Season of Productivity

This weekend, the family and I went up to spend time with BW's parents in Akron. It had been a while since we were all up there together, and the kids hadn't seen Rhonda for several weeks (an unusually long stretch of time). I had a very productive writing weekend because of it-- when we're in Akron, it's almost a mini-vacation for me. We lounge about, the kids have two extra sets of eyes on them almost constantly, and all of the normal distractions are absent. It's a real delight!

Adding to the mini-vacation is my attempt to fast from Facebook for lent. I've never made a serious effort to sacrifice something during the season of lent in an effort to turn my heart and mind to the things of God. When I began to think about the value of this exercise, Facebook came to mind immediately. Beyond the lexulous playing and photo uploads, I am a loiterer. I hang out on Facebook. When I feel the slightest twinge of boredom or distraction coming on, I indulge, and of all things, it was the highest on the list of personal indulgences or addictions. Like many shakings-free of addictive substances, it is a painful, difficult divorce, but also a fruitful one. Prune, prune, prune, and watch the new growth. Already I'm seeing some of the value of my abstaining from Facebook and focusing on God and other quality endeavors. Take out the space filler and fill it with something worthy of occupancy!

All of that to say, I'll probably return to Facebook at the end of this season, hopefully with a firm grasp on self-control and resistance. :)

I've read several good books lately and finished up two this weekend (no Facebook...). Over on Finding Gemstones, I blogged about The Red Tent by Anita Diamant. Great story. Our book discussion group at church met to talk about it last night, and I thought the conversation was excellent. I just finished Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell, too, and found it to be a very refreshing, easy read. While it wasn't earth-shattering for me, I could see how some folks would find it revolutionary. Probably because I've read a lot of books like it, I'm not as blown away, but nevertheless it was a good read, and I'm glad I picked it up (for free on Kindle).

Ever since Key West, I don't think I've read much in the way of published poetry, so at the urging of my pal Michael, I went to the library on Friday and took out the collected poems of Theodore Roethke and The Wild Iris by Louise Gluck: a Pulitzer prize-winning collection. I read Gluck this weekend, and wow, I am sorry I haven't read her earlier. She was fantastic. Lyrical and haunting and inspirational and inquisitive and accusatory (is that a word?)... all fantastic. I read it all the way through once and now look forward to sampling poems here and there, really absorbing her work.

Besides some real good reading, I got a lot of real good writing time in as well. Besides doing some revisioning, I wrote a couple new pieces and pulled together another manuscript for a chapbook competition. We'll see what comes of it-- maybe nothing, right? But at least it is going out. I revised the full-length manuscript too, adding in some of my newer poems and doing a little reordering. It is a good, and healthy, feeling to not be in a terrible rush to publish a book. I am not too impatient (though always a little) for results.

I continue to roll over the ideas from a few months ago about the purpose of writing and the "why I write" question, and I think I've settled somewhere in the middle. I write for my own personal exploration of truth and circumstances (not quite pomp and circumstance), and after that, if the external world wants to read what I've written, I want to put it out there. So along those lines of thinking, I am wondering if there are those who would want to receive poems I've written or am working on, and if so, drop me an email or leave a comment with your email address, and I'll start a little list for those who like my work and want to read my work in progress. I can't promise brilliance. Because I don't have it. But maybe something I write will move you in some way. Or at least leave you with a feeling. Or a thought. Or a frown. Or confusion. Hopefully not confusion.

On that happy note, I'll conclude the night. Time to sleep!

Haiti and Home from Key West

Back from Key West, but it's hard to relay how wonderful a trip it was in light of the tragedy in Haiti. Brandon and I can hardly turn off the TV. We feel so helpless this far away, as I'm sure many people feel. Even before the earthquake, there were 1.6 million orphans in Haiti... now? So heartbreaking. Our prayers are fervent for the nation and people of Haiti.

The vast need, patience and hope of these people is amazing.

I did have a fantastic experience in Key West. I am grateful for the opportunity that was provided for me, both by family and the seminar itself. My workshop with Billy Collins was excellent, my roommate and I had great conversation, the panels and readings were once-in-a-lifetime experiences, and Richard Wilbur was phenomenal. Did I use enough inflated words for you? But really, what an experience. I met a lot of wonderful poets and made several new friendships I hope to continue nurturing in the future. I also savored every minute of solitude and reflection - there were few distractions all week, and while I did miss my family, of course, this retreat was much-needed spiritually and intellectually. I wrote seven poems this week, even!

Now to bring the energy and inspiration back into the "real world," writing when able. When I came home, I was welcomed by a lovely dinner cooked by my husband. Besides dinner, Brandon really took care of things while I was gone - laundry was done, house was clean, all was in order... I am so fortunate to have such a supportive husband. Really. And my kids - they were so excited to see me - I'm so glad I took the day off following my trip to fill them back up with attention and love. We must've put together half a dozen puzzles, played five rounds of Candy Land, and imagined Barbie's daily ongoings for several hours.

It's hard to concentrate on this blog right now - we're watching the footage on CNN of the earthquakes - so I'm going to go ahead and sign off. Sleep well, and pray for Haiti!

Key West Bound and Lydia-isms

Happy new year, bloggers! I knew it would be a while before I wrote again, and I don't even have time to do the Christmas roundup, but I just had to blog about Lydia tonight. I told the kids that I would be going out of town for a week - on my way to Key West for the Key West Literary Seminar - and perhaps that means something to Lydia now. After we prayed and sang before bed, Lydia accused me of forgetting more words to Jingle Bells. I don't know the third verse, I admit it, but neither does she. I told her I thought there were more words but I didn't remember them, and she said, "I think God knows the rest of the words!" I said he certainly does, which brought visions of God singing anything -- maybe, "Tonight's gonna be a good night" by Black Eyed Peas, or "I am a man of constant sorrow." I wonder if more than just choirs of angels sing in heaven - maybe God joins in. Maybe he sings his own praise. Why not? If we get so much joy out of singing, couldn't God too?

Anyway, the second Lydia-moment that was just awesome: "I love you SO MUCH. I love you even when you spank me." To which I responded, "I love you SO MUCH too! Even when I have to spank you, I love you." What a moment. I am very blessed to have such amazing kids. Even when I have to spank them.

I have to get up REALLY early, so it is time to sign off, finish packing, make sure the kids are asleep and then go to sleep myself. 2 a.m. is going to come very quickly.

Christmas Cookies

Christmas Cookies

This baking is taking

the fruit of some body

and mixing it with the fruit

of the earth, birthing

harmony in each small cookie,

Mary’s sowing, reaping, crushing, sifting,

the cow with milk to give, hen with eggs to fold in,

substance of life and life-giving blending.

Isn’t this season about celebrating

the melding of spirit

with flesh? Remember

our miracles blossom from trauma

and this baking is beating

ingredients, dividing

dough in heaping spoonfuls,

elements indivisible – egg and sugar,

wheat and water.

Bite in, lick the crumb from your upper lip…

Partake in this communion of saints

while the miracle still warms the wafer.

And now we are all here: laborer,

consumer, life-giver, hovering over a tray

of peace on Earth.


I'm not sold on the ending. I'm not sold on the whole poem, even, but I needed to write about this. I was baking cookies and thinking about baking cookies, so a poem needed to be born. Hope you enjoy your cookies this holiday.

The Holidays

It is the season of Christmas music, Christmas lights, Christmas cookies, Christmas parties, Christmas shopping, and Christmas. Christmas. Just the word lifts my spirits. Merry Christmas to you. And you. And you over there, too!

I'd like to give a shout out to the folks over at Kodak Gallery. I ordered *stuff* from them on Saturday, and UPS says it is on its way to my house today - Wednesday - just four days after I ordered it. That's amazing! Santa Claus and his elves don't have nuthin' on these people. My order wasn't just pictures, either. I won't tell you everything I ordered, but I did order a 40 page bound photo book of my family. If I had gone the old-fashioned route and scrapbooked this baby, it would've taken me at least a year, but Captain Kodak Efficiency is delivering it, bound and glossy, to my doorstep in just four days. Wow. So, if you are looking to create a unique and attractive Christmas gift this holiday season for some well-deserving grandparents or aunts, check it out.

BW and I battled back and forth for a few weeks about Christmas shopping this year (to spend or not to spend - that is always the question), but finally settled on a maximum dollar figure for the year. We're on a mission to become debt-free - a mission that will take at least several years, just for plastic debt - so any outside spending feels like we're slowing down the payoff. But it is Christmas! Spread good cheer! Be generous even with little! Some of you will smirk at our budgeted funds - $200 - but you'd be surprised how far we stretched that money. By the way, we finished our shopping. Insert triumphant laugh.

With the holiday break only seven work days away, I've taken out a stack of books by almost all of the poets who will be attending the Key West Literary Seminar and hope to read something by all of them before I go in January. It's a hefty stack.

I just finished reading two excellent books, very different in subject matter - Still Alice by Lisa Genova and The Host by Stephanie Meyer. Still Alice was a heartbreaking story about a woman (Alice) who is diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's disease. The book is written from a third-person limited omniscient point-of-view from Alice's perspective and follows Alice from her thriving career as a Harvard professor through the stages of degeneration. The author does a magnificent job of bringing the reader into each scene. Alice's relationships with her husband and children change and evolve throughout the book in a very real and powerful way. The author writes with truth and compassion about her characters. It is a beautiful story.

The Host by Stephanie Meyer is almost impossible to summarize without sounding wacky. Like the Twilight series, The Host is a sci-fi book that incorporates many themes I care about - love, sacrifice, reconciliation, forgiveness - into a strange and futuristic world. It seems evident to me that the author is modeling her main character after Jesus, incorporating powerful parallels. "He came into the world, but the world rejected him," could be an opening epigram for this book. While this book did not capture my attention as intensely as the Twilight series, I found myself much more engaged and not hating the main character or feeling annoyed by any one perspective. This is a much more well-rounded book with very few lag moments.

I have really enjoyed this dive back into fiction. I missed plot and character development, extended narratives, and dialogue. I missed not having to figure out what the story is really about, although I did do that anyway.

Poetry writing has come to a bit of a standstill for the time being. I have a few ideas but just haven't had the time to write. As usual, much of the drafting might have to be done in my brain before I ever sit down for the writing. I need to figure out what I want to take to Key West for workshopping. I want to bring mostly new material to see where I could go from here. I'm excited for Key West. It is hard to think about it now in the face of this great season (see beginning of this post).

It seems we have come full circle! Time to sign off - have a blessed holiday if I don't sign back on in a while!

What Is This Really About?

Over the course of the last six months (!), I've been working on shaping my collection of poems. It has gone through a number of transformations and two title changes, and right now I have six stacks of paper in the kitchen - one stack for each "theme" I think my book has. (Six. Hm. Maybe this is where I need to start - too many themes?)

I do believe that there is a thread running through all of these poems... perhaps several. The trouble is finding the thread and discovering how all of the poems are connected to it. So as an exercise tonight, I've decided to try to explain what I hope my poetry collection as a whole accomplishes, what all of the poems add up to. Wish me luck.

I have titled my manuscript, "Pruning Burning Bushes." The poem titled this is the first poem I had selected for publication, by my good friends over at Relief. The poem is based off of the passage in John 15 that talks about bearing good fruit and being pruned. Pruning removes the dead and broken branches so that new and healthy growth can be formed. The pruning in this poem is rather extreme - the shrubs are cut back very far, and then the gardener stands back and waits to see where the calluses will form -- calluses on trees are the scars left once a branch has healed over the cut.

The other side to this is that I am pruning "burning bushes" - an obvious glance back at the Old Testament appearance of God in the burning bush. So what does it mean to prune a burning bush? I'm not sure - that's why I'm writing this. Here's some ideas for what I think this could mean. First, Moses was a classical whiner. He tried his very best to get out of the mission to save the Jews from bondage. He kept trying to defer responsibility and calling on to other people. He was talking to a bush that was burning but not being consumed! I mean, come on, talk about guts and cowardice crashing against one another simultaneously. You would think Moses would have been terrified to disagree with God given his self-doubt, but he questions the God of the universe's plan at least three times. Silly, silly Moses.

So maybe pruning the burning bush is our attempt to cut back the calling, slim it down to something more manageable and less miraculous.

That's one idea.

But I don't think that's what this is about. I think this is more oriented around the idea for the poem in the first place, the idea that we ourselves are being pruned and shaped, not only so that we can bear more fruit but also so that God's calling, plan and purpose can be evident in our lives. Perhaps we ought to embody the burning bush, so to speak. We are supposed to "let our lights shine," aren't we? What light is that? Why, the light of the Holy Spirit! *bells and whistles*

This really does relate to my book because in general, the poems are all either personal or thematically applicable to this pruning and shaping idea. The shape that feels natural for this is almost chronological - it feels as if the book should move from the innocence and delight of childhood into the heavy pruning, to healing, to rejoicing, to teaching. Maybe that's it.

Right now, the "arch" of the book is close to this. I have family/cycle of life poems in the first section, darker struggling poems in the second, rejoicing/marriage poems in the third, and seeds/planting poems in the fourth. It kind of follows the movements I'm hoping to accomplish. Kind of. I'd like to think more about where the "circle of life" poems belong. Do they belong in the first section with the other poems of place and family? hm.

The best and most frustrating part about this is that lots of people don't care. Poets and non-poets alike are completely uninterested in whether the book hangs together as an aesthetic whole. Are the poems good? Do they have the same voice? That's enough. For some. I can't decide if I'm one of those people. I want the poems to make sense together - there are poems I've written that are not in the same voice and simply don't belong in this book - but I also want variation and modulation (as the boss would say). Should the book move somewhere? Does the reader end up somewhere other than where they began? Hmmmm.

I think I'll go and fiddle with the order some more now that I've unloaded all of those blatherings.

That Crazy Thang Called "Plans"

It's the end of another week, and I have a bit of a headache that I'm calling sinus because if I scrunch up my nose and squint my eyes, the pressure seems to be relieved a little bit. It's kind of hard to type like this and I think all of the undergraduates wandering by my door think I'm crazy, but at least there's some relief!

I failed to report on Warren-Wilson. I don't really remember whether I mentioned on here that I applied to this elite low-res MFA program, but I did. It was the only school I applied to, figuring that since I'm not in any major rush to start working on a degree I might as well only apply to the #1 place I'd like to be. So I applied, and the WW website said that I'd hear somewhere between three and six weeks after their application deadline. Once that time period rolled around, I started to experience this serious anxiety about being accepted. With Brandon starting school and the two of us being on this kick to eliminate debt, financing a second graduate degree at this point would be rather cost-prohibitive. And the program doesn't offer any tuition reduction or scholarships. But I applied anyway, and here I am chewing my lip through trying to decide what to do if I'm accepted.

Imagine my surprise when I was absolutely relieved to be rejected! Ahhh, thank you, door of opportunity slammed shut! There's nothing quite like receiving a strong NO when you have anxiety about a situation.

I have to pull a quick quote from back in March that I stumbled upon this afternoon. It made me giggle and sigh at my own stupidity.

In many ways I don't know what to do next, in regards to poetry. I am working on a draft of my first full-length manuscript right now, getting feedback from poet friends on order and arc and what-not, but what I don't know is whether I should be thinking about going for my graduate degree, either MFA or something else, or whether I am right where I need to be. Another thing my friend said on Thursday that really struck a chord with me is that often, once we've found our niche and begin to succeed, we have a tendency to be rewarded or promoted straight out of that place that God put us - the sweet spot where we are most productive. Even though some pursuits may seem like good ideas, they might not be God's idea, or God's timing. This is something I've been thinking a lot about with my career as a poet (if you can call being a poet any sort of "career"). Is going for a higher degree right now or in the near future a good idea, God's idea, both, or neither?

When I think about it in terms of my family, I think going back to school right now would be putting myself before every other member in my family. It would be a seriously selfish move - especially since Brandon has been planning to go back to school for a few years now. I don't think it is right or fair to him or my children to take on yet another project, especially when I am already over-committed with work, church, and my poetry as it is. I think in a few years, once the kids are in school and the husband is almost done or finished with his master's, the timing will be better. And who knows where we will be a few more years down the road? I certainly never predicted we'd be here.

So how about that? Why didn't I stick to my guns, you ask? Because I am like every other human being on this planet - ambitious, big-headed, and over-eager - and don't like to pay attention to any still, small voices of reason. That's why. Have you ever been excited about rejection like this? I was thrilled! I still am thrilled! I don't have to make any difficult decisions!

In other exciting news, guess who's going to Key West in January? Oh yeah, baby, that's me, hangin' with my poet homies... you know, all those people who won't know me but I sure know them! At least through their writing... Richard Wilbur, Rita Dove, Maxine Kumin, Billy Collins and a whole host of other poets. It's going to be so fabulous.

I've also had some publication news come streaming in lately. In the last month or so, I've had three poems accepted - Christianity & Literature, JAMA: The Journal of the American Medical Association, and just today, Windhover: A Journal of Christian Literature. It's been an exciting month! It just goes to show that even if you've received 120 rejections in the last year, acceptance might just be right around the corner. The publications are such an affirmation, but as I mentioned in my last post, this is not why I write. In fact, if that becomes why I'm writing, I think all inspiration and authenticity about my work will go flying away. I can't write for publication. Then it is not true. Sometimes I feel myself leaning in that direction, thinking, "I bet what they'd like to read is something more like this..." and then I start to put the pen to the paper and panic because there's nothing there. No inspiration whatsoever.

Be true to your voice. Be true to your subject matter. And never think, "Oh, they won't like that subject/topic/form/word/theme/punctuation mark." They shouldn't be a thought in your mind until far beyond the first draft and multiple revisions of the poem. But it's easy to lose that focus.

I'm excited about a few poem ideas I have floating around in my brain right now. All I need to do is find the time to write. It sounds so simple...

Happy weekend!