So my editor is working on the formatting of my book, MY book. I have not allowed myself to get excited about this. I have held my excitement dangling over a muddy creek. But now, it is beginning to lift, a brightness in my chest, June bugs all around.
Most of the poems are good, solid. There are a couple I’m going to poke around in, see what happens. There is one in particular that has lines that I will cut. So many of these poems came from random words that Annette gave to me. She jumpstarted me. I had put off writing poems for two semesters, then I had to write a bunch very quickly. So I did. Then I took those poems and added in a couple of older poems here and there and it’s a story, like I think books should be, a self-centered mess of girl coming out the other side—I Will Not Give Over.
Here are my blurbs:
The greatest quality of the prose poems in I Will Not Give Over is the one quality a writer can’t beg, borrow, or steal: they are genuine. They are disquieting, beautiful, upsetting, and exacting. Here, “Love shows up first dressed in fear.” These are poems playing for keeps. –Sue William Silverman, author of Hieroglyphics in Neon, Lovesick, and Because I Remember Terror, Father, I Remember You
A sort of Southern-fried Follain, Rebecca Cook, in I Will Not Give Over, has taken up the splendors of that often overlooked poet’s Canisy, his fond and mysterious song of childhood that remains a touchstone (along with his Transparence of the World, and A World Rich in Anniversaries). Ms. Cook’s memory is a thing of wonder — and finds its expression in these gorgeous poems, reminiscent of the master’s elegance: the just-so detail, the evocative image. And, believe me, when I invoke Follain, something very good is going on here.–Danny Lawless, editor of Plume
I think they’re cool. Of course, I had to look things up to see exactly what Danny is referring to, but that’s okay. And who knows? Maybe the book will be translated into French.
The very best thing is that Sue wrote “exacting” and Danny wrote “the just-so detail.” Those words are the best praise I could ever get.
The artist who did the cover for my chapbook, is also doing this cover. I can’t wait to see what she comes up with. There is no budget for cover art, but I am paying her two hundred, much, much lower than what she’s worth, but much, much higher than what she asked for.
So excitement is creeping up the edges of the pond. My father had it dug. The water bubbled up from a hidden spring in the ground. Alesia and I watched it bubble and bubble up and up and then, it slowly started filling up the pond.
Good things always happen. Even though Ed is dead, even though James is sick, even though my brother has to move from his halfway house, good things keep happening. I thank this is what’s called being thankful, or blessed. How odd and appropriate that the sun is yellow.