Most of the time, I feel like the pursuit of my MFA in Creative Writing was nothing more than an indulgence. A hollow activity that became anti-climatic the minute I had achieved it. Don't get me wrong, I know that sounds so #firstworldproblems. I honestly appreciate the fact that I was able to attend graduate school, and that I worked like hell to finish a degree, but it was certainly one of those instances where you realize the journey was more important than the ultimate destination. The anti-climatic-ness of the whole thing left me wanting. So I almost immediately enrolled in another Masters program. A glutton for punishment. A glutton for knowledge. A glutton for something akin to validation. I felt like the MFA was too easy. Like I didn't suffer enough to get it (forget the twenty plus years it took me to get my BA and then the MFA). Like I didn't deserve it. Like it didn't matter.
Fast forward three years. I have done nothing with my MFA. I really haven't even written much of anything other than occasional blog posts. I've signed up for two poetry workshops and haven't written anything. I have attended exactly one reading (last month), but other than that I have been completely enmeshed in anything *but* the poetry community. So when I came across an email with the subject line of "Poet Wanted" yesterday morning, my eyes saw it, but my brain really didn't register it. And then it did. It was an email to the general "arts community" of Tacoma. I subscribe to the list, so the email popped up into my inbox. Intriguing to say the least.
I quickly replied to the email, unsure of what the initiator wanted. He is a photographer, that much I already knew. But in a little bit of correspondence yesterday, I discovered that he wants to collaborate with a poet, for a book that would contain poetry and photos. How perfect is that? While I'm not sure that the "theme" is exactly up my alley, I could sooo make it work. And just the excitement I got in thinking about it, told me that it was an opportunity I needed to pursue. So I might. Depending on the timeline and what he wants, and if he finds me suitable for his needs, it might be something workable. And that is exciting. That has caused my poetry blood to course just a bit. We will see what happens. And if it doesn't work out, at least it got me thinking, inspired and re-ignited. And that is always a good thing.
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Word-filled Wednesday
It may be that I am just a geek when it comes to word-related things, but when I really want to spend time doing something just for me, it is either scrapbooking or writing. Lately, I have been slacking on my writing. Mostly because it was required for school, and it was the less-fun technical stuff that you have to dredge up for a thesis. But we are on the precipice of National Poetry Month which happens every April. I know that the majority of people aren’t into poetry, but I think that it is because if it is taught in school, it is the old serious classic poetry that is hard to understand or really stiff and uptight sounding. But there is a lot of fun poetry out there… and there would be more if YOU would write some.
It is simple. I promise. You can just pick a prompt and go. It doesn’t have to be something earth-shattering or life-changing. It can just be some playful words on a page. It is no more complicated than any other writing you may do. Do you ever have trouble writing a whole blog post? Just poetry-ize it and keep it simple, loose and moving. Margie Romney-Aslett's blog has that sort of poetic feeling as you read through it. If you are in need of a prompt, check out…
- http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/ (he lists prompts on Wednesdays and will have a prompt-a-day during April)
- http://bigtentpoetry.org/2011/03/monday-prompts-march-28/ (they list a prompt every Monday and people return to share their poems on Fridays… they are also doing multiple prompts [one for each day] in April).
- http://rachelmckibbens.blogspot.com/ (she doesn’t update her blog with prompts regularly, but her prompts are always interesting, thought-provoking and can be intense [like her poems])
- Susan G Wooldridge’s book Poemcrazy is probably the best resource for someone who wants to play with writing poetry. She talks about different ways of looking at things, creating a “word pool” of your favorites, and other simple things to do to start writing. I have almost worn out my copy of this book. The other nice thing about it is that you can read from any section. You don’t have to start at the beginning and read through. It is great to pick up and read a chapter here or there as time permits.
- And of course, there is LOLCat poetry. One of my personal favorites. There is even a poetry magnet kit you could get to inspire you. My friend, Dana, has a great example on her blog My Gorgeous Somewhere. Just write something from a cat’s point-of-view and you can use the online translator to change it into LOLcat language. I have a couple poems from the archives, that I did in conjunction with Dana’s now-defunct website Read Write Poem.
- Or if you want to go low-tech, just have a friend or family member give you three random words… use them in a poem. Simple Simon.
Do you have any experience with writing or reading poetry? Was your last attempt at creating a poem during some point of your junior high career? It is not too late to try again. And if you have experienced writing poetry… are you still doing it? Now is your chance. Grab any scrap of paper and something to write with. Jot down a quick poem. Less than five minutes. You can do it. Have I tempted you yet? C’mon… you know you are dying to have fun and write a little poem. I double-dog dare you.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Confession Tuesday
- I thought that after a couple of weeks off of work, I would miss my job and feel empty or possibly even depressed. That hasn’t happened, and I am now wondering if it ever will.
- Sometimes friends are far better and cause waaaaay less stress than family. I hung out with my friend Stephanie yesterday. We’ve known each other since 4th grade. Every time I get together with her, it is like a huge warm fuzzy and a jolt of inspiration in life. We talked about art and she showed me her work (I just love it). Jessica worked on some sketches, Steph worked on a piece, I painted a background canvas and was imagining circus tents. Here is a glimpse of one of Stephanie's pieces...
- I feel like a bad stepmother. Against my better judgment, I’ve acquiesced to the “hands-off” approach subscribed to by my husband and his ex. Now I feel like that was a mistake.
- This is so yummy and inspiring… from Michelle Clement’s blog…
- And then look at this goodness. I’m so envious of her creativity and cuteness. Gotta love Lolly at Lollychops.com.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Crush
I have a crush. Yes, I am admitting to it today. I am a married woman, but I have a crush. I know what you must be thinking, but let me assure you, this is not typical. A mutual acquaintance introduced us, and at first, I wasn’t sure that it was going to be a good match. You never can tell with these things. I was surprised by how quickly things happened. Lean in, and I will tell you about it. Now just a little bit closer…
It was a rainy pre-spring day, and my husband was out of town for work. I’d returned home after a grueling day and was looking forward to some quiet time. I quickly scanned the mail and found a mid-sized manila envelope addressed to me. Inside the dim confines of the wrapping was Underlife by January Gill O’Neil. I flipped through the first few pages and instantly wanted more. My plans for the evening shifted. Instead of watching tv and going to bed early, I ended up eating take out and reading through the book from cover to cover.
The tone of the book first captured my attention. It felt like sitting down with a friend and sharing her stories. The poetry world is full of confessional poetry, but a lot of it comes across as whiny or laden with blame. That is definitely not the case with O’Neil’s writing.
The language in Underlife is intentional and direct “I am from hush puppies and barbeque” is the opening line of “Nothing Fancy” the first poem in the book. From the beginning, the reader is able to discern that the speaker is not going to beat around the bush. The straight-forward language does not detract from the complexity of the work. Instead, it invites readers who may not think of themselves as poetry readers into the poetry world nonetheless.
It was a rainy pre-spring day, and my husband was out of town for work. I’d returned home after a grueling day and was looking forward to some quiet time. I quickly scanned the mail and found a mid-sized manila envelope addressed to me. Inside the dim confines of the wrapping was Underlife by January Gill O’Neil. I flipped through the first few pages and instantly wanted more. My plans for the evening shifted. Instead of watching tv and going to bed early, I ended up eating take out and reading through the book from cover to cover.
The tone of the book first captured my attention. It felt like sitting down with a friend and sharing her stories. The poetry world is full of confessional poetry, but a lot of it comes across as whiny or laden with blame. That is definitely not the case with O’Neil’s writing.
The language in Underlife is intentional and direct “I am from hush puppies and barbeque” is the opening line of “Nothing Fancy” the first poem in the book. From the beginning, the reader is able to discern that the speaker is not going to beat around the bush. The straight-forward language does not detract from the complexity of the work. Instead, it invites readers who may not think of themselves as poetry readers into the poetry world nonetheless.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Confession Tuesday
- Sometimes I dislike people immensely. Not all people. Just some.
- This is my last Tuesday at the “job.” My soul is singing.
- I’m craving KFC like a minx. I don’t know why. It reminds me of “So I Married an Axe Murderer” though because the dad goes on a tirade about conspiracies and KFC putting a secret chemical in that makes you “crave it fortnightly.” Probably true. It scares me that I want it.
- I am dreading the day when Jessica will move out on her own and take Kennedy. For some reason, that just hit me today. I don’t know what I will do. I mean… I do, but it will leave a big emotional gap. How do grandparents handle it when they don’t see their grandkids all of the time?
- It is the last Tuesday of April and my goal to write a poem a day was stalled by the first Tuesday of April. Sad. At least I have a lot of good ideas and a note or two and plan to work on them once I have the time and am more focused on writing/school (aka after my last day of work).
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Confession Tuesday
This is going to be a quick one…
- I am thoroughly excited about the fact that Law & Order: Criminal Intent is back on the air tonight. I’m a little disgruntled over the fact that Goren and Eames are going to be out as characters this season, but I am trying to maintain an open mind.
- I am also excited that national poetry month is just days away. :D I’m going to participate in FaBoStaMe tomorrow at 5:00 pm. I believe it stands for “Facebook status message” but FaBoStaMe is a poetry-writing challenge in which participants write one poem every minute for 30 consecutive minutes, posting the poems as their status messages.
- This morning I was listening to Sage Cohen on the Inkwell. I was in a workshop with her back in October. Now I can’t stop daydreaming about poetry. I am also thinking a lot about how words are power and we need to choose them carefully.
- With that said, I totally want to create a vision board. We were supposed to do that at a Speakeasy meeting, and I’d taken supplies to do it, but there were too many “business” items so we didn’t get to it. I need to get that on the calendar.
- And speaking of calendars, I’m totally tired of physical therapy. I feel soooo much better now, and I really don’t like to take the time to go and submit myself to torture. I’m trying to figure out how I can just stop going without having them get on my case about it. Isn’t it stupid to be afraid to tell your PT that you don’t want to come back? I just feel like they would have me come forever if I don’t stop soon.
- I’ve been on a garlic kick the past week and a half. It is kind of scary. Last night, I even ate some fries just so I had a vehicle for eating the raw garlic. It seems crazy. I’m sure Tim is quite tired of it at this point.
- Readwritepoem is going to be having a prompt a day during the month of April. Get your poem on!
- I love being a “gran” and snuggling with Kennedy on a daily basis. *sigh* He’s growing and changing every day. Totally amazing.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Barbaric Yawp
Could I be more excited?
On tap for tomorrow....
Barbaric Yawp
This is a generative workshop, designed to stimulate the spontaneous creation of new poems. The session will begin with the distribution and discussion of model poems, followed by a writing exercise and sharing of new work (to thunderous applause). We may write poems of unheeded prophecy, speak in the voices of the dead at the cemetery, explore the landscape of our own names, curse our enemies (real or imagined), declaim odes to our socks or apologize for things that we’re secretly glad that we did. In the process, we may even build a sense of community and solidarity among poets.
Instructor: Martin Espada
On tap for tomorrow....
Barbaric Yawp
This is a generative workshop, designed to stimulate the spontaneous creation of new poems. The session will begin with the distribution and discussion of model poems, followed by a writing exercise and sharing of new work (to thunderous applause). We may write poems of unheeded prophecy, speak in the voices of the dead at the cemetery, explore the landscape of our own names, curse our enemies (real or imagined), declaim odes to our socks or apologize for things that we’re secretly glad that we did. In the process, we may even build a sense of community and solidarity among poets.
Instructor: Martin Espada
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Virtual Book Tour - Apologies to an Apple
For some reason... Blogger didn't post my scheduled post earlier in the day (was supposed to post shortly after midnight), and the blog police at work blocked our access to Blogger so I couldn't tell until just now. Grrrr. Without further ado...
Reading the introduction to Maya Ganesan’s book Apologies to an Apple, I am impressed and amazed by the fact that so many adults supported and encouraged a young girl’s dream of publication. From Maya’s parents to Katherine Grace Bond, adults were willing to listen, read, and embrace her words. This is huge.
Parents generally tend to be over-protective of their children. They want to keep them from negative comments or criticism. They want them to pursue sensible activities or athletics that could propel them to the NBA or the Major Leagues where they could make millions of dollars (ha-ha). Not many parents push their children to write poetry. And, if you are lucky enough to run across parents who are supportive and encourage their children to pursue dreams of publishing poetry, you would still be hard-pressed to find other adults willing to jump on that bandwagon. Writing is a competitive world. It is hard to find support. But Maya had a wonderfully caring mentor and then found publishers willing to take a chance on a kid. Amazing. It is all amazing. And because these adults believed in Maya, we were able to share in her words, her imagination, her life music.
“We tasted quarrel
Till our hearts burned into fire.”
“… and drinking a hundred vowels each”
Reading those snippets, it is hard to believe those words/phrases came from a 10-11 year old, but she has been writing since she was four! It is hard to believe Maya could have felt such complexities at a young age, but her skills of observation are obviously tuned in to the world around her. It will be interesting to watch her work as she progresses into her teen years and then adulthood. Maya's work runs the gamut from conversational to abstract and dreamlike, full of adult-speak and internal wisdom . She includes lot of rich details and shares interesting observations.
The poems throughout this book treat us to a glimpse into a different perspective. They also serve as reminders to us all. Read them, then think… are you a parent? A grandparent? An aunt? An uncle? A teacher? A neighbor? A friend? A writer? Look around you. Who can you encourage today? How would that impact the world?
Reading the introduction to Maya Ganesan’s book Apologies to an Apple, I am impressed and amazed by the fact that so many adults supported and encouraged a young girl’s dream of publication. From Maya’s parents to Katherine Grace Bond, adults were willing to listen, read, and embrace her words. This is huge.
Parents generally tend to be over-protective of their children. They want to keep them from negative comments or criticism. They want them to pursue sensible activities or athletics that could propel them to the NBA or the Major Leagues where they could make millions of dollars (ha-ha). Not many parents push their children to write poetry. And, if you are lucky enough to run across parents who are supportive and encourage their children to pursue dreams of publishing poetry, you would still be hard-pressed to find other adults willing to jump on that bandwagon. Writing is a competitive world. It is hard to find support. But Maya had a wonderfully caring mentor and then found publishers willing to take a chance on a kid. Amazing. It is all amazing. And because these adults believed in Maya, we were able to share in her words, her imagination, her life music.
“We tasted quarrel
Till our hearts burned into fire.”
“… and drinking a hundred vowels each”
Reading those snippets, it is hard to believe those words/phrases came from a 10-11 year old, but she has been writing since she was four! It is hard to believe Maya could have felt such complexities at a young age, but her skills of observation are obviously tuned in to the world around her. It will be interesting to watch her work as she progresses into her teen years and then adulthood. Maya's work runs the gamut from conversational to abstract and dreamlike, full of adult-speak and internal wisdom . She includes lot of rich details and shares interesting observations.
The poems throughout this book treat us to a glimpse into a different perspective. They also serve as reminders to us all. Read them, then think… are you a parent? A grandparent? An aunt? An uncle? A teacher? A neighbor? A friend? A writer? Look around you. Who can you encourage today? How would that impact the world?
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Quiet Time
I am on the verge. On the verge of what? I am not quite sure. All this week, I thought that it was going to be a nervous breakdown or a dismembered tongue (from biting through it) because I was trying to hold it together at work. Is the universe telling me to get out of my current job? I think so. Maybe I will listen. It is just a whisper, and I'm straining to hear it. But it is there.
This weekend, I'm excited and looking forward to some quiet time. If Jessica reads this, she will undoubtedly throw a fit because I am a wee bit happy over this alone time, but she will understand in the not-too-distant future when she has her own child and has no free time. Tim is going to visit the kids over in Walla Walla. I can't go because there is no one to watch the dogs and if we took them along, I'd just be stuck inside a hotel room with them anyway. Jessica is going down to Oregon to baby-sit her five cousins (she's so crazy!), and I will be basking in the relative quiet of the house. I'm sure Kate & Bobby will keep me distracted, and there will be barking because of the Fair traffic down our street, but I won't *have to* do anything I don't want to do. Joy.
Tonight, is dinner with Eileen, and then I may hit Target for the necessities. Tomorrow, I plan to sleep in (YES!) and do everything in my power to refrain from cooking/cleaning. I'm going to work on writing and then tackle schoolwork. I might take a nap with the dogs. At some point, I am going to whip out my Pottery Barn book of style/design and try to configure the pictures we need to hang on our office wall. I need to create a big ol' collage and throw my big black G up there. The book I have gives lots o' ideas and I've got the laser level and am ready to try it. I also picked up a template at Michael's for like $1.99, but it seems that it may be more trouble than it is worth trying to use that. I don't know. We shall see. But this weekend is all about me. I never say that… and I never get to say that… but today I am saying it.
Fall crispness is in the air, and for some reason, when that hits me, I get in the mood to write. I just read a blog post talking about how it is hard to write when it is sunny in the PNW. I never really consciously thought of it that way, but I think she's onto something there. To me, Fall is all about back to school and time to get serious about getting things done. I'm most productive in the fall. Weird. Hopefully that will be the case with my technical craft & form paper and also in getting some of my creative stuff taken care of. I need to come up with a batch of new material for the upcoming module. Eek!
Hopefully I will have accomplished everything I need to accomplish and can feel rested and ready for the week ahead.
Shhhhhh…
This weekend, I'm excited and looking forward to some quiet time. If Jessica reads this, she will undoubtedly throw a fit because I am a wee bit happy over this alone time, but she will understand in the not-too-distant future when she has her own child and has no free time. Tim is going to visit the kids over in Walla Walla. I can't go because there is no one to watch the dogs and if we took them along, I'd just be stuck inside a hotel room with them anyway. Jessica is going down to Oregon to baby-sit her five cousins (she's so crazy!), and I will be basking in the relative quiet of the house. I'm sure Kate & Bobby will keep me distracted, and there will be barking because of the Fair traffic down our street, but I won't *have to* do anything I don't want to do. Joy.
Tonight, is dinner with Eileen, and then I may hit Target for the necessities. Tomorrow, I plan to sleep in (YES!) and do everything in my power to refrain from cooking/cleaning. I'm going to work on writing and then tackle schoolwork. I might take a nap with the dogs. At some point, I am going to whip out my Pottery Barn book of style/design and try to configure the pictures we need to hang on our office wall. I need to create a big ol' collage and throw my big black G up there. The book I have gives lots o' ideas and I've got the laser level and am ready to try it. I also picked up a template at Michael's for like $1.99, but it seems that it may be more trouble than it is worth trying to use that. I don't know. We shall see. But this weekend is all about me. I never say that… and I never get to say that… but today I am saying it.
Fall crispness is in the air, and for some reason, when that hits me, I get in the mood to write. I just read a blog post talking about how it is hard to write when it is sunny in the PNW. I never really consciously thought of it that way, but I think she's onto something there. To me, Fall is all about back to school and time to get serious about getting things done. I'm most productive in the fall. Weird. Hopefully that will be the case with my technical craft & form paper and also in getting some of my creative stuff taken care of. I need to come up with a batch of new material for the upcoming module. Eek!
Hopefully I will have accomplished everything I need to accomplish and can feel rested and ready for the week ahead.
Shhhhhh…
Friday, April 03, 2009
Random Sestina Generator?
It is National Poetry Month. Most people don't give a damn about that fact, but since I'm a poet, I'll play along and celebrate throughout April. There are many websites and groups with events and challenges taking place. I stumbled across one (I think it was via Facebook) where they are working on a collaborative sestina. Since I've never written one, I had to look it up to remember how it works. I stumbled upon a random sestina generator... which is kind of fun to play with. It doesn't give you the actual full sestina, but will place the end words in the order they need to be in which is kind of amusing in itself. I was thinking that this might be what I need to get me back to writing. A highly structured format leaves far less wiggle room and may help me to get beyond my mental block.
Readwritepoem.org has some interesting exercises, so I'm going to keep my eye on them and hope to try a few out. I'm also going to try my hand at the poem prompts on the Poetic Asides blogs. So many options, so little time.
Write away.
Readwritepoem.org has some interesting exercises, so I'm going to keep my eye on them and hope to try a few out. I'm also going to try my hand at the poem prompts on the Poetic Asides blogs. So many options, so little time.
Write away.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Writing
I've determined that the last three months sucked the life out of me as far as my writing is concerned. I haven't been doing any writing for fun, and not even as much as I needed to do for actual requirements.
Being the head of a writing group, it makes me feel tremendously guilty at times. But... on the flip side, I had the wonderful opportunity to have Beth (a member from the group) step up to lead a mini-workshop on writing outside of the box. She gave us a great exercise and some time (along with the pressure) to write.
This is what I came up with as a rough rough rough draft.
Watching
Inside a brown house on
Bumpalump Road
catch a blonde glimpse
through darkened
window glass.
Hair painted
soft-boiled yellow
smelling of sunshine,
ponytail bobbed
moved by the invisible beat
of kitchen music.
Twitterpated chatter
clatters over
a lumbering
pile of dishes stacked
miles high
and wide
double-sinked.
Scrawny pale arms
- elbows deep -
springboard into suds.
Bubbles soap
the air with
ivory scent while
dishes submerge
with a bloop.
She discusses her day
over a rush of water.
Her smile cures cancer.
Being the head of a writing group, it makes me feel tremendously guilty at times. But... on the flip side, I had the wonderful opportunity to have Beth (a member from the group) step up to lead a mini-workshop on writing outside of the box. She gave us a great exercise and some time (along with the pressure) to write.
This is what I came up with as a rough rough rough draft.
Watching
Inside a brown house on
Bumpalump Road
catch a blonde glimpse
through darkened
window glass.
Hair painted
soft-boiled yellow
smelling of sunshine,
ponytail bobbed
moved by the invisible beat
of kitchen music.
Twitterpated chatter
clatters over
a lumbering
pile of dishes stacked
miles high
and wide
double-sinked.
Scrawny pale arms
- elbows deep -
springboard into suds.
Bubbles soap
the air with
ivory scent while
dishes submerge
with a bloop.
She discusses her day
over a rush of water.
Her smile cures cancer.
