Tag Archives: writing

Carbs

Posted on January 11, 2012 by admin| Leave a comment

Today I feel much clearer and much more positive. So my eating is out of control right now. Well, it could be worse. I could be eating meat and cheese and terrible things but I’m not. I’m sticking to my vegan path and that’s something to be proud of. So I’m patting myself on the back for that. It’s winter and of course I’m wanting heavier foods. Who doesn’t? It’s okay if my eating is all out of whack. I’m not smoking, so that is another thing to be proud of. And at least I haven’t gained back all the weight I lost, and I lost weight last week, so things aren’t so terrible. And as for exercising, I didn’t work out this week until today, but last week I worked out six out of seven days. So I’m a little derailed, but I just started back to work and there’s always an adjustment period. And that’s okay. It’s all okay. There’s a lot of stress all around me and I’m holding my own. Good for me.

So I just have to cut myself all the slack I need right now. I didn’t write yesterday and that’s okay. I may write today and I may not and that’s okay as well. I’m not working under some looming deadline or something. I can do what I want. And I intend to. I will write when I write and I will live my life and all is well, everything is actually okay.

James has a cardiac MRI on Friday. I must simply breathe in and out. The procedure is on the 23rd. I must simply breathe in and out and keep it in the road. So far my classes have gone very well. I am a good teacher. I need to keep reminding myself of that just now. I can do this, I can do all this, I really, really can. All is well in this corner.

I just ate and had coffee and I’m in my workout clothes and I have some reading to do before class and it’s thundering outside and today it will hit sixty degrees but tomorrow it will be in the thirties by the afternoon with maybe a dusting of snow and what is a person supposed to wear in this crazy weather?

Now I will do some things.

~r.

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Trapped

Posted on January 10, 2012 by admin| Leave a comment

Today I have been useless and I don’t even care. It’s no wonder that I can’t sleep at night when I sleep so much during the day when I can, when I want to, though I wouldn’t really call it sleep. It’s more like hiding out in the bed with the covers pulled up hoping no one will find me. Of course people kept calling me, calling me, calling me. I had to schedule an MRI for James’ heart and that’s all I’ve done all day. I ate too much cereal and feel sickly. I never really got to enjoy my morning coffee what with being on the phone with hospitals. I am feeling a bit surly and do not want to go to class tonight. But I will and I’m sure I’ll enjoy myself, have a fine time, I always do.

So this new book, this new idea. I wrote some yesterday, but not today so far. If I can do it, if it’s even possible. I let Dale read what I had and he said it was lovely but wondered what I could possibly do with it, i.e. how would I ever sustain it for the long haul? That’s a very difficult question to answer because I certainly have no idea at this point. But I figure, if I can write one page, I can write another page. That seems like faith or some sort of twelve step program, one page at a time. But that’s all I know so far.

I hate SEROQUEL. That’s why I feel so stupid today. I had to take some last night and I am just dumb as a rock today. Of course, I wouldn’t feel this way if I had gotten up and got to it, if I had forced myself to move and get some energy going. But I was stubborn and unwilling to do that and now I’ve wasted the day, just because I could.

And the thing is, I’m in an eating nightmare. It feels like addiction. I can’t stop eating hash browns and bagels and grits and soft, bland foods. I am force feeding myself, just as I’ve done in the past. Why am I doing this? Why? Because I’m not smoking? That could be it but this was going on before I quit. Is it because I’m worried about James? That could be it, but once again, this was going on before I started worrying about James. Or was it? I’m just not sure. All I know is it would be easier to just not eat at all. This must be why folks go on systems like Jenny and Nutri System. The food is already made for you. Balls. I am having a really hard time and I swear I’ve been manic a couple of times, or at least been something that feels awfully like mania. I must be careful and maybe now is not the time to try to do everything at once—stop smoking, eat right, lose weight, exercise, write a book, work full time, take care of my family and pets and house and friends. Yes, it’s a lot. No wonder I’ve been hiding out. The thing to do now is get in the shower, change my state, and move forward. Just because I had a bad day doesn’t mean that the next day has to be bad. And that’s the hardest thing about food. Just because I blew with the cereal, doesn’t mean I should, SHOULD just blow the rest of the day. That’s the rub. I feel like I SHOULD eat shitty food because I just keep EATING shitty food. It’s a trap. I need to bust out of it. But how to do that? Effort.

So here’s to the shower and the hope that tomorrow will be a better day.

~r.

 

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Bubbles

Posted on January 8, 2012 by admin| Leave a comment

So I’ve started the new book and it’s going to be so difficult to write that I think I’ll settle for a page a day. Even if that’s all I write, I’ll still have many pages this time next year. And this book truly will be all about language and playing and hanging out with myself and listening to the words on the air. I thought that CLICK was about language, but now I realize that that was only partly true. This book, this book will be all about language. So maybe it will be a really long book of poems. Or maybe it will be a backwards memoir. I don’t know what it will be but it will blow many bubbles and swim on its back down a lazy river. It will sleep inside a fluffy cloud and float across the sky toward heaven. I am so excited.

Tomorrow I go back to work, back to school. As always, I have a new schedule to get used to. I will go in at 2:00 on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. I will work until 8:00 on Monday and Tuesday nights and until 5:00 on Wednesday. That’s it, that’s my new schedule and I can’t wait. But I will have to get used to it, which usually takes at least a couple of weeks.

Tomorrow I will work out and get ready for classes and maybe blog at bit. I want to do interesting writing exercises in my classes. My brain is churning with ideas, but I don’t have a lot of time now. This semester I am giving my CNF students more time to work on small scenes. Learning to write scenes is the hardest thing for many of them to get, as it was for me, so this will be a good thing. Whatever happens, I need to calm down and get a good night’s sleep. I am getting more and more excited. Yesterday and today I spent hours and hours reading the poetry journals. I had no idea they would take so long to comment on. Now I know what to expect this semester.

Yesterday I got a rejection from Rattle, for poems. They are really funny. They go to great lengths to let you down easy:

 

 

This is a form letter–necessary with a tiny staff and all these submissions–but what I’m about to say is sincere: Unlike most literary magazines, we don’t solicit work from famous poets; we feel that practice isn’t fair, and doesn’t make for a good magazine. Every single poem we publish started out as a submission, and 90% of the submissions we receive are from people who’ve submitted before. If you add those two facts together, you’ll see how much we rely on your persistence and generosity. We really do hope you’ll keep sending new work as it’s ready.

Also, it should go without saying that our decision to return this submission doesn’t mean much. We’re just fans of poetry ourselves, and all tastes are subjective. Moreover, we’re always looking to make the magazine as eclectic as possible–often we end up turning down submissions that we enjoy, simply because they’re similar in tone or content to other pieces we’ve published.

 

 

Isn’t that awesome? And funny, I think. Sometimes I get the desire to start a literary magazine and I seriously doubt that I would have such a generous rejection letter.

Now I think I’ll write just a bit, on something, then I’ll go to sleep. Or maybe I’ll read, or blow pink bubbles.

~r.

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Biography

Posted on January 6, 2012 by admin| 2 Comments

So over at The Artist’s Road, I commented on a post about creative nonfiction and fractured storytelling. I really like the term “fractured” because when I know that a story that I’ve written needs an overhaul I usually “fracture” it, which is to say I disjoint the language, loosen it up, put more of my stamp on it. I basically make it more lyrical and poetic. But the thing about the post that really intrigued me was the author’s comment that the lyric essay is on one end of the CNF spectrum and biography is on the other end. Which is interesting because I haven’t considered biography, at least in its traditional sense, to be CNF at all. Now I am rethinking my stance on this. I would have to say that if the biography uses the techniques of fiction and/or poetry to tell the story of someone else, then it IS CNF. But there are so many biographies that are not CNF. It’s just difficult to say. Is an essay CNF? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. As I always tell my students, CNF is a slippery, new genre.

Even though yesterday was a seriously lazy day, I did get some things done. I took care of the flexible benefits forms and got them in the mail. I paid a bill. I watched Project Runway All Stars. And I suffered with a terrible sinus headache. This same thing happened to me the last time I quit smoking. My doctor told me that it’s not uncommon. Smoking keeps stuffed burned off and then when you quit, shit starts to grow. And how. I hope I don’t have to go to the doctor for this.

Today, or tomorrow, or Sunday, I have to get to the poetry portfolios, which is a little frustrating because how many students will even bother to get them back? But oh well. I also need to finish reading these Polish poets that Jackson wants me to read. He is on an ongoing mission to educate me on all things poetry. This process will take a long, long time.

I got a rejection for poems yesterday. It’s funny. I send poems to a place like the Cortland Review with no real hope of getting in, then I get an acceptance. I send poems to a small place like Sierra Nevada College Review and I get rejected. Funny. I felt the same way when I got rejected by Rosebud last week. I haven’t submitted to them in years and years, but I felt certain they would take something. But they didn’t, though the rejection was good. But that’s just now it goes. You never know what’s going to happen with submissions. I have a lot of hope right now because I have so many submissions out there—57. And the really good thing is that it has once again became a game to me, something fun that I can do for myself. Before the book contract there was such a sense of desperation. Plus it had been so LONG since I’d published anything except the translations of my work. Now, because I have a book coming out, and several other pieces of work, I’m back in my playful, it’s-just-a-game mood that I was in before the career bit raised its ugly head. This is the place to be.

So I’m not sure what I’ll do today. Maybe work out, maybe not. Maybe, maybe do something productive. The world is full of these maybes.

~r.

 

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Winter Days

Posted on January 5, 2012 by admin| Leave a comment

I am so lazy today, I’m bug-eyed with my own laziness. My workout partner canceled on me and of course I’m taking that as an opportunity to do absolutely nothing. I am chock full of nothingness. I have never done anything in my life. Every day has been spread out like a blanket under the blue October sky and I have lain there every day and stared up at the yellow leaves. I am a princess full of cream puffs and marmalade. I am a six year old with missing front teeth. I can still feel that, exactly what it feels like to run my tongue over the places my teeth once were.

I wrote the new poem yesterday and let me tell you, it’s going to be terrific. I LOVE it. It’s the best thing I’ve written in a while. Well, it’s the only thing I’ve written in a while. But it’s blue and vicious in its blueness. It has many tiny milk teeth. And the book idea. It is marvelous but who knows if I can even write it. It would be so large and fluffy like a down pillow, like a cloud. It would be unwieldy, difficult to control. Why the verbs alone will be a terrible thing, a terrible marvelous thing all those wild, wild, futuresque verbs. I have a first line. That’s how Click started, with a first line and a short story. Now I have a poem and a first line. What should I do? I can’t work on everything at once, can I? Can I juggle three swirly balls full of all the colors? Can I juggle all these words at once? I know I can work and write, teach and write, live and write all at the same time. I know I can do that. So it’s time to get down to it I guess. I just need to pull it from the closet and fluff it up, spread it out on the winter grass.

Mentioning winter. It was cold on Tuesday and Wednesday, in the 30s, but today it’s in the 50s, and tomorrow it will get up to 60. Ridiculous. Will it ever be cold enough for me to wear my new clothes to work? Winter. One must have a mind of winter, one must have a mind of writing, one must put one’s ear to the ground and listen to the sound of the horse coming across the moor. One must believe in moors and white horses. One must believe that one is beautiful and brilliant and full of blue scales that glisten in the sun. There is a fish swimming toward me, as cold as cold, dead eyes and twisty fins. She will guide me up the stream to the place where the fairies bathe. There is moss everywhere I look, green-blue water up to my thighs. I am going in. I am going under. It’s a blue-green day full of winter skies. I think I’ll read some poems.

~r.

 

 

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Acceptance

Posted on January 4, 2012 by admin| Leave a comment

I just got an acceptance for a poem, “Red Number One,” from Cortland Review. I think this may be a big deal. And acceptance is always good, especially on a day like today. Over the next few weeks I expect to get lots of responses to submissions as folks return from the break. Fingers crossed everywhere for more acceptances. Just grab a pole and hold on!

Now I have three pieces of CNF and one poem forthcoming in serious journals. Whoopee!

~r.

 

 

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And that’s what the doctor said….

Posted on January 4, 2012 by admin| 4 Comments

So we took James to Nashville and saw the specialist. They have scheduled a procedure for the 23rd. This will be an electrophysiology study that will last most likely around six hours. This doctor said that James’ condition is definitely affecting quality of life and he feared, if not properly treated, it could affect quantity of life. So there it is. James could die from this. What they may eventually do is insert a defibrillator, which just scares me to death. The way this would work is that it would shock his heart if it got into a dangerous rhythm. This sounds awful and the doctor said that it can be scary and that’s one reason they are so reluctant to do it at James’ age. But that’s what may have to happen. And I guess that means no more twirly rides at Lake Winnie or Disney World. This is awful for me to think about. And of course I’m worried about Alex, too. And myself to some degree. But those worries are most likely unfounded. But who knows? This is mighty dark territory I’m in. Mighty dark.

I was supposed to get up and go to the gym this morning but I bailed. Just didn’t want to wake up. Monday night I hardly slept, and on the way to Nashville I slept, then I slept in the waiting room, then I slept while the nurse talked to us. I woke up when the doctor came in, then I slept again on the way home. Then I got into bed and slept. I slept okay last night, but I guess it’s not that weird that I’m just wanting to lie around. But I will work out, either at the gym, or here at home. I simply must.

Monday night when I couldn’t sleep, I got the idea for a poem, and goddabit, for a whole book! That’s just what I need, another book idea. But this one is a doozy and could be awesome if I could figure out how to do it. And it’s just possible that it’s original. I would have to really trust myself and the ether, but I may just take the plunge. One thing is for certain. I need to write and write and write, but I haven’t been doing it. That’s the nature of the beast, the just not doing it. Everything worth doing takes gumption, get up and go. I need a good kick in my get up and go.

School starts Monday. I am eager to return, but I have, it seems, stopped smoking again and it’s being at school that makes it so easy to slip backwards down the slide. I hope it gets cold and stays cold so the desire won’t be so strong. I have some work to do between now and then. I got my student evaluations back yesterday. This was the first time that we’ve had students do them on the internet and lots of students didn’t even bother. But I did get some interesting feedback, nothing that really surprised me though. Seems someone is always put off by my potty mouth and someone usually says something about my lack of organization skills or the difficulty in understanding the grading scheme. I have already taken steps to address the grading thing, but there’s probably no hope for the potty mouth, though I swear, I do try. But with so few students responding, the overall scores were lower, which always makes me feel bad, but it’s much less painful seeing it on the screen instead of on a paper that I’m holding in my hands.

So it’s time to get some things done. I seem determined to keep the house cleaner now that it’s put back together. We will see what we see.

Keep your fingers crossed and your thoughts positive for James, and keep him in your prayers if you have such things in your life. All things work for good.

~r.

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The Crow

Posted on December 28, 2011 by admin| Leave a comment

“She knew she was the bird, of that she was certain…”  That is the first phrase of the first line of CLICK, except that the “the” was originally an “a” and I fretted over changing it, but I think it helps with clarity and it’s such a small change really. I am happy to report that this line is the line that first popped into my head when I was at Bread Loaf in 2009. The same line–it has survived the revision process. Actually, most everything survived, and I am happy about that. There is only one bit in the book that I’m not entirely sure about and, fitting enough, it’s a completely autobiographical bit. Perhaps it shouldn’t be there? But no one who read the book pointed it out, so maybe it’s okay. And to be honest, I haven’t looked at the book in so long…..it’s almost like it’s a dream I had. And part of me has always felt that I don’t know the book well enough, that I haven’t worked hard enough, that I don’t know it inside and out. Perhaps I will know it inside and out when I’ve worked on it with the editor. Or perhaps it will always be slightly mysterious to me.

In this dead time between Xmas and New Year’s I have mustered up the gumption to get some things done. Last night I did my syllabi, so that’s one thing done. With James’ situation, I need to have everything nailed down and ready to go when the semester starts. I hope I hope I hope that I won’t be having to go to Nashville too much. I hope I hope I hope I won’t miss AWP. That is a selfish hope, but there it is.

I just got back from the gym where I worked out HARD for the first time in a long time. I have gained back much of the weight I had lost. That’s what’s so frustrating about being on Weight Watchers. If I stop watching, I gain. I don’t maintain. I GAIN. A Lot. I have to watch and watch and watch. I have to remain accountable. But I must say that I am proud of the fact that I have still been weighing in. I haven’t been hiding out. At least there’s that.

I think that I may try to write this afternoon, see what happens, see what’s up. The new story has a shape in my head. I know things about it that I didn’t know before. Something is stirring. And that is a very apt way of describing what writing is like for me–it’s a stirring, a ruffle of feathers. She knew she was a bird. She knew that words would come. She knew that there wouldn’t always be bars on the windows.

I know a girl like an elf. She has a pointed nose and little ears and a tattoo of a swirly lady on her right side. She is the girl with the tattoo. She has wild hair that goes every which a way every day. She has two pet rats and a butterfly in a jar. This is the girl for the poems. This is the Megan of the stories. Watch her fly from the first grade swing. Megan is flying through the air, the wind is knocked out of her chest, her brain goes bump against her skull and she wakes up with many kids staring down at her, crunched up in the gravel.

Maybe today is a day for poems, for words all flying up toward the sun. Today I will send some words winging south toward Florida. Or tomorrow. Some time soon. I will send Jane a care package, a box of writing.

I have decided to write some real letters and put them in the real mail. I used to do that, long ago. Maybe if I mail letters to people, they will mail letters to me.

~r.

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