the trouble with late nights, is that it really gives way to over-thought. thinking of all the things i should be doing, or should have had the time to do during the day, but didn't. late nights give you the space to plan all the things for tomorrow. add a little andrew belle or boxcar rebellion and it truly makes one think: what can i do tomorrow? what will affect change in both my writing and personal life?
i have only made a few submissions to literary journals this year. life has happened. time for those has gotten pushed off time and again. doubt has crept up. apathy waxes and wanes. so, what is it that makes "hitting the send button" so hard? i read for two literary journals. i recently read for a poetry contest. i am always thrilled to see the submissions rolling in. they inspire me. to read more. to learn. to be a better writer myself. to be proactive. but somehow, i am still staring at the growing stack of my work that needs a home (or at least an attempt at adoption) and the growing list of places i would love to submit.
what moves us to continually put ourselves out there? what moves us, at all? here is to tomorrow: and the hope and motivation it may bring. where do you find your push?
To praise the sun is to praise your own eyes.
Praise, the ocean. What we say, a little ship.
So the sea-journey goes on, and who know where!
Just to be held by the ocean is the best luck
we could have.
---Rumi, from Buoyancy
Monday, October 24, 2011
Thursday, October 20, 2011
erica reed: designer to watch
beyond thrilled i got to write a piece this month for moxy about two things i love: fashion and inspiring creatives. erica reed, is a perfect combination. check out my interview with her here.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
colrain makes the poet grow stronger
this last weekend was remarkable. and by remarkable i mean, i had the outstanding good fortune to attend the colrain poetry manuscript conference when it traveled west (because everyone needs a respite from new england now and then).
and by outstanding good fortune i mean, whoa: to workshop in a locale that i had forgotten i loved so very much (move away from the place you have always known, and when you return, wait for it to take your breath away in a completely unexpected way). and to actually remember why it is that i write poetry: to harness my imagination, to have the space to tell my story.
truth be told, it has been months since i have had to space to write a poem. life happens. trying to freelance happens (the blessing and curse of having liberal arts degrees: paying for them). what was missing, that euphoria after finishing a piece that you didn't know was there, behind all the worries, and feeding of dogs, and blah blah (or joys!) of the day-to-day.
but this weekend, i remembered. what i want, and why, to really write.
the faculty, poets and editors jeffrey levine, ellen dore watson, and joan houlihan, carmen giménez smith, and richard greenfield, were brilliant, receptive, and basically well, just so integral in reminding all of us what we have the tools to do. why we want to carry on. how to write and write and write well (whether we believe in ourselves or not).
here is what i think recent mfa graduates: if you are in a slump, or feel like you are just slothing about without a way to recall the words you loved so much, treat yourself. go to a day class, a local workshop, an area retreat or conference. even a reading. find a way back to the fire.
when was the last time you wrote something you loved, in a space that you loved?
and by outstanding good fortune i mean, whoa: to workshop in a locale that i had forgotten i loved so very much (move away from the place you have always known, and when you return, wait for it to take your breath away in a completely unexpected way). and to actually remember why it is that i write poetry: to harness my imagination, to have the space to tell my story.
truth be told, it has been months since i have had to space to write a poem. life happens. trying to freelance happens (the blessing and curse of having liberal arts degrees: paying for them). what was missing, that euphoria after finishing a piece that you didn't know was there, behind all the worries, and feeding of dogs, and blah blah (or joys!) of the day-to-day.
but this weekend, i remembered. what i want, and why, to really write.
the faculty, poets and editors jeffrey levine, ellen dore watson, and joan houlihan, carmen giménez smith, and richard greenfield, were brilliant, receptive, and basically well, just so integral in reminding all of us what we have the tools to do. why we want to carry on. how to write and write and write well (whether we believe in ourselves or not).
here is what i think recent mfa graduates: if you are in a slump, or feel like you are just slothing about without a way to recall the words you loved so much, treat yourself. go to a day class, a local workshop, an area retreat or conference. even a reading. find a way back to the fire.
when was the last time you wrote something you loved, in a space that you loved?
Monday, August 29, 2011
always two hours ahead: the imprint of place
i don't know about how most people transition during moves, but when i left the east coast mid-summer, i decided i wasn't going to change the clock on my mac to match my new time zone. why? not forgetful, but indeed, still creatively and heart-linked to that coast i thought this was one way to keep myself metaphorically tethered to the part of the country i have found most affecting in both my writing and personal life. and you know what: it really works. this little digital glory gives me an instant connection, (and a little pick me up on days when i feel particularly disconnected from that part of the world).
this all begs to question: how much does place play a role in our writing? for me, an immense amount. so much so that when i was applying to graduate schools, chatham university's travel writing program won my attentions, simply because i know how moved i am (always) by place. and while i inevitably didn't elect to attend that program, i couldn't have asked for a better city to begin to fuel my writing then of course first, nyc, and second boston.
when i was living in the east, i found myself romanticizing and ruminating over the climate and landscape of the west. i daydreamed about my mountains back home, the way the dry heat felt on summer mornings, and the smell of chile and incense during the fall. and while i grew up among this landscape, it was another climate that brought all that inspiration into focus. does long-worn place have to steep before it finds us? i guess so. now that i am back, i see much with fresh eyes, but am not driven to write and think about it the way i was when removed. meanwhile i find the east in all i write.
what places inspire you? what place has the biggest imprint in your writing (or regular) life?
this all begs to question: how much does place play a role in our writing? for me, an immense amount. so much so that when i was applying to graduate schools, chatham university's travel writing program won my attentions, simply because i know how moved i am (always) by place. and while i inevitably didn't elect to attend that program, i couldn't have asked for a better city to begin to fuel my writing then of course first, nyc, and second boston.
when i was living in the east, i found myself romanticizing and ruminating over the climate and landscape of the west. i daydreamed about my mountains back home, the way the dry heat felt on summer mornings, and the smell of chile and incense during the fall. and while i grew up among this landscape, it was another climate that brought all that inspiration into focus. does long-worn place have to steep before it finds us? i guess so. now that i am back, i see much with fresh eyes, but am not driven to write and think about it the way i was when removed. meanwhile i find the east in all i write.
what places inspire you? what place has the biggest imprint in your writing (or regular) life?
Friday, July 15, 2011
big booty bread company
how can you not love a city with bakeries like this: big booty bread company.
for those of you who know me well, you will understand when i tell you: ny is always with me. here now, pretty much my favorite thing to do is walk and walk (and walk some more). because you never know what kind of poems are going to be formed through the streets. oh, and the bakeries! nothing to do with words, except maybe: unexplainably delicious, heavenly, earth-shattering. you know, words that tingle in your mouth.
bottom line: every time i visit i am moved to write in a way that cannot be explained. every moment feels the need to be captured, and truth be told, my favorite poems were written here. the ones i kind of want to carry, so they are always close. the ones that i want to farm out to the avett brothers so they will mold them into song.
brooklyn just, feels like home.
and, check out this: 826 NYC.
their writing space for young people fronts as a the brooklyn superhero supply company. if you are in the area, and love writing and teaching, stop by. or better yet, volunteer.
for those of you who know me well, you will understand when i tell you: ny is always with me. here now, pretty much my favorite thing to do is walk and walk (and walk some more). because you never know what kind of poems are going to be formed through the streets. oh, and the bakeries! nothing to do with words, except maybe: unexplainably delicious, heavenly, earth-shattering. you know, words that tingle in your mouth.
bottom line: every time i visit i am moved to write in a way that cannot be explained. every moment feels the need to be captured, and truth be told, my favorite poems were written here. the ones i kind of want to carry, so they are always close. the ones that i want to farm out to the avett brothers so they will mold them into song.
brooklyn just, feels like home.
and, check out this: 826 NYC.
their writing space for young people fronts as a the brooklyn superhero supply company. if you are in the area, and love writing and teaching, stop by. or better yet, volunteer.
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