Sudden Burst of words

These beautiful days are lost, buried
in the dark, fertile earth along side
the bones of our ancestors.  Peel back
the sky's black curtain, revealing
the watercolor smudges of everything
which remains: The holy and profane,
the dark and the terrible, storm and peace.

NaPoWriMo

It has been years since I tried writing a poem a day for NaPoWriMo.  This isn't a confession because I don't feel guilty about it in the slightest.  I am proud of my past efforts and I am thrilled to see so many people attempt to write a poem a day for an entire month.  And it isn't like there hasn't been a whole lot of material /fodder/pop culture happenings to inspire poetry, but this isn't my yea . . . again.

I am coming down off the tail end of completing a manuscript which hopefully will be out in the world by summer, and I am not writing poems.  I haven't written a poem in months.  Still not a confession---just a statement.  This is just my pattern.  I write steadily until I have a project in mind, then everything turns to that project.  After I turn my writing attentions to that project, everything else dies.  I write and write and re-write and write more towards that one thing.  After it's over, I have no writing energy left.  I literally have to re-learn how to write poems of a different voice, subject matter, and/or reflection.  It happens every time.  What has taken me years to learn is to ignore this particular kind of emptiness and silence. 

I used to panic.  I used to scare myself into writing terrible poems because I thought if I didn't keep writing I would lose what little talent I had and I would never write another good poem.  I am not saying my "good" poems are really that great.  I am just saying my poems during those times were/are particularly bad.  Well, it has finally started to stick.  I have learned to accept the fact I am not a consistent writer of poems.  I do not write on a steady schedule.  I am not an aggregate poet, in that  I have a batting average when it comes to poems.  I love all my finished poems even if editors hate them all.  I have come to accept that I have forgotten how to write new poems, and it will be some time before that happens.

What's more, with every passing day I am learning to live with the sort of poet I am and the kind of poet I will never be.  Rather than going into any of that, I will simply provide you a poem to read.  It's a poem I like, which means it's good enough to share.


Spring rain---
This cold morning
lasting forever

Book Review: Shaindel Beers The Children's War and Other Poems

The Children's War and Other Poems

Shaindel Beers
72 pp., Salt Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-84471-930-3
$15.95


Having read Shaindel Beers' first book of poetry and identified with it on a personal level, I was excited to read this book.  From the moment I heard the title, I knew I was in for something special and meaningful.  The title certainly is up-front and honest.  There is no subterfuge.  The world Beers brings forth in this book is daunting and relentless . . . and worth every minute you spend engaged in it.

Beginning with stunning first person narratives of war and violence, Shaindel Beers begins to discuss the things we know of but would much rather forget.  That in itself is an easy statement to make, because we would all rather forget about war and violence, but there is a deeper indictment going on here.  The unsettling truth these poems begin to reveal is that we would much rather forget the violence, pretending it doesn’t exist, than actually doing something to stop it.  This is a bitter pill to take, but swallow it we must.  At times we would like to believe we are as impotent as the children as they recount their tales, but in the backs of our minds always lingers the truth that we are not only culpable for the violence, we remain ever capable to make the world a better place yet unwilling on so many levels.

Walking into the title poem, Beers gives us little respite from the heartbreak, but one kindness she bestows is breaking the poem into smaller, separate sections.  In this we are able to take on manageable fragments, digest as we like the compelling stories and images.  Slowly, the poems begin to expand in scope and emotional landscape.  With each passing section, a larger picture is formed and the reader can’t help but be drawn into a higher level of consciousness, more in tune with the larger world.

One such passage, the opening lines from “After Martija’s Watercolor, Croatia” gives us this:

There are things that can happen that you can’t draw.

A soldier ripping off a baby’s diaper and slamming him

into the wall because it will be easier if the baby

cannot cry. Your mother without a head. You paint splotches.

Of course the shock is intentional.  To hide this sort of thing from the reader might let us get away clean.  Like any responsible artist, Beers knows some things are absolutes.

In the second, longer section, we are graduated to the more complex understandings of war, violence and pain.  It is a testament to Beers’ ability to know where that line is because I will be honest and tell you it took me going back into the book to realize that divide.  It is this second section which begins anew, serves to show in some ways how pervasive the epidemic of violence has become— how much of the culture of war we have internalized into our own lives.  Here there are poems which highlight the war each of us wages with other people, our lives, our past, and families.

My favorite poem from this section is probably a strange choice. “Dark-haired girl in the park—” shies away from the weightier structure of most the other poems and presents a war of almost the mildest sort, the conflict between parent and child as the child comes of age.  Using that struggle, we see there is some necessity in struggle.  A young girl sees herself as a sexual being much to the dismay of her parents.  Her need to tear herself away from them is not based in hatred, but rather the need to be desired.  The girl is young, innocent to what may result in her defiance.  We are reminded that for many of us, especially in the privileged first world, our first struggles are mild in comparison to the reality most children in the world face.  We look back to our adolescence with nostalgia, a sweetened pain which is often savored.  Most of the world’s children are not so lucky.  Most of the world’s children could teach us all about real pain and suffering.

Ultimately this is an important book on many levels.  The Children’s War and Other Poems is a sharp departure from Shaindel’s first book, A Brief History of Time.  I do not like making comparisons between two different works of art so I will simply restate this book is a bold and sobering step away from her first book.  The Children's War and Other Poems carries with it a wonderful voice, weighty ideas, and an unflinching eye for our darker expressions.  It is a book which you will want to return to again and again.
her first book.

Book Review: Jeff Newberry's Brackish

Brackish

Jeff Newberry

101 pp., Aldrich Press

ISBN: 978-0615705637

$14

Opening up Jeff Newberry’s first book of poems, Brackish, is a daunting task if all you are looking for is a casual glance at contemporary poetry.  Newberry both draws you into the biography of a young boy and that of a small, factory town seemingly on the verge of collapse.  It is the poet’s ability to demonstrate how he draws on the peculiarity of family and ride the fine line between sorrow and acceptance which makes this collection of poetry work, and in working, the thing which allows us to see far more than we thought possible.

The book opens with a section of poems which defines both place and character—that of the narrator.  In this first section, titled ‘His Father’s Son,’ Newberry lays out for the reader what it is to come of age in a small Florida community past its prime.  Here there is no Southern, Capote-like reminiscence, no nostalgia for a bygone age.  These first poems set the stage for an unflinching look at the world as it really was.  Take the opening lines to “The Butcher’s Son”:

The Butcher’s son stays out late

because the butcher’s dead—

five years tonight.

There is no softening, no holding back.  The world is alive and moves on, with or without us.  This section also provides a series of portraits of the father which defy easy explanation.  They contradict in the best way poems can by being both specific to the narrator’s world and yet immediately recognizable to the reader.

After establishing a presence in the first section, most poets would transition to other themes and other venues, but Jeff, in his later sections, takes on the difficult task of  staying with the same ideas and themes of his first section, reinforcing in the reader’s mind how important place can be in the development of the individual psyche.  Here is where Jeff Newberry shines for me as a poet.  He writes poetry in such a way I almost immediately forget he is a poet writing poetry.  I start reading and his poems become a natural, vibrant part of the whole. I forget about the technical aspects of poetry and I am swept up into the moment of reading for the sake of reading. 

Newberry’s poems take on a narrative quality in the later sections of his book, and begin to weave tales and stories, of which I can only hope some are true and others are complete fabrications.  Drawing on the power of Richard Hugo, Newberry begins to write poems for specific places and towns, helping us to define another generic part of the map we make of the world.  At the center of this new map is the poet’s home town, Port St. Joe, but we are audience to many other specific places.  The book ends with a section called, ‘Autobiography,’ and if we are to believe any of it, we must accept everything.  There is no middle ground for this, our journey into the world Brackish creates.  Take these beautiful lines from this last section about coming home:

Each time I crest the Apalachicola

causeway, bay oysters sing

in a blistered hymn, promise

me if I plunge my palms

deep into the surf, edge fingers

down deep through sand & scallop,

I’ll find a pearl left just for me.

It’s the beguiling song of nostalgia which always comes up short.  Even while singing of his home and early life, Newberry is compelled to reveal the empty promises of those places we have left.  The reader knows of such promises already, and knows there are no easy answers.  In this, the poet adds to our understanding.

You should go buy Brackish.  It is a lovely book and deserves your patronage.

Book Review: Collin Kelley's Render

Render

Collin Kelley

76 pp., Sibling Rivalry Press

ISBN: 978-1-937420-34-5

$14.95

Collin Kelley’s latest collection, Render, is a masterful stroke of both political and socially relevant poems, where the poet uses his own life as a pop-culture touchstone for his generation’s most meaningful, shared experiences.  Among the plethora of significant events hit upon in this book are: First love, parents, infidelity, nostalgia, the movies, sexual icons of puberty, post-puberty, and the inherent confusion which lies within. And while I would say most people will find something to love within these pages, this book speaks directly to anyone who is part of the generation born between the late 1960’s up through 1974.   One poem after another breaks through the barrier of fuzzy memory and brings the reader immediately into the world of the poet.  Each poem strengthens its grip upon the reader and will not let go.  These poems will stay with you long after you have finished the book.

Collin Kelley is a genius when it comes to confession.  He teases you with brilliant titles and amazing opening lines.  Once he has you hooked, he delivers sucker punches and body blows like a prize fighter.  What is amazing is even after you are dumbstruck by a series of poems, your first instinct will be to read another poem, and another. 

Using the disillusion (and seeming dissolution) of the American Family, Collin Kelly presents a world so many of us from his generation know all too well.  We are the Post Atomic Age children, born of parents who participated or did not participate in the counter-culture of the 1960’s.  We are the first artificial, non-organic generation, and Kelley drives that point home by exposing the hidden narrative of his own family in some strange quiet crisis.

It’s difficult for me to choose any one poem to demonstrate the building of this narrative.  I can tell you there are no weak poems here, no filler.  Each and every poem is essential and I cannot imagine the book any other way than how Collin has constructed it.  Each poem captures with exacting precision not only the poet’s memory, the thing he must share, but the details of the world at large, making each accessible in the best way possible.  I do not mean accessible as in simple, because there will never be anything simple about Collin’s poetry.  No, accessible in the way everyone can relate to the stories he tells, because we all have memories tied to the events Collin ties his memories to. 

When Collin talks about his summer at the movies while his mother is having an affair, I immediately remember my adolescent movie experiences, but also the dysfunction of my own parents’ marriage.  When he talks about the Bicentennial in his poem, “Freedom Train,” it’s his details which jar a thousand memories loose from my past, causing me to wonder why I have lost so many.  When Collin talks about his early sexual encounters, especially with those boys who feel shame for their behavior, I am reminded of my own fumbled experiences early in my adolescence.

Collin Kelley succeeds with his poems because he is willing to face the truth of his past, confront the seeds which were sewn, resulting in the person he is today.  He succeeds because he does this when so many of us are too afraid to do these things for ourselves.  But even more so, Render is a tremendous book because it does not condemn in its confession.  It lays out the reality of the world without trying to make anyone feel guilty for their past.  It allows us to take from it and only wants us to share.

Antici . . . (Say it!) . . . pation

Because I am so awesome, I have decided to explore my future path to becoming the poetry world's next big thing, its new darling, the flavor of the month if you will.  It's inevitable, so all I have to do, according to my worn out copy of The Secret, is visualize each tiny step on the way to being the poetry world's next craze, where I am certain to join the ranks of Schomburg, Zapruder, Hicok, Meitner, Beasley, Dickman (Team Michael), and ____________________.  Come along with me as I lay out the road map to the respect and adulation of which I am imminently deserving.  Be warned, however; this is my road map.  If I catch any of you plagiarizing my pathway to celebrity, I will hunt you down and destroy everything you love.


Step one:  Write a manuscript.  No matter how distasteful it might seem, one must actually produce poetry in order to receive the praise of the poetry community.  Well, this rule applies for those as of yet to be inducted into the club.  Once established as a member of The Little Darling's Society, you can pretty much write your own ticket. where this is concerned, writing as little as is necessary to publish a 'New & Selected' book every five or six years.

Said manuscript earns extra points if you are a member of any of the following subsets of demographics:  Woman, Gay, Latino/a, any combination of non-Caucasian hyphenated American, live in NYC, came to poetry after earning or simultaneously earning a non-poetry professional degree, identify as a feminist (2nd or 3rd generation preferred), own exotic animals, once worked in a non-traditional occupation or career (see the year code for the approved list of non-traditional jobs), or lives with modified behavioral patters as displayed by three distinct personality quirks.

Status:  Done.


Step two:  Find a publisher.  Because my manuscript hits all of the hot-topic issues (19th Century Agrarian Mormon Landscape Meditation), finding a publisher was not really a huge concern of mine.  My biggest worry was how I was going to let down some of the publishing companies while still making them feel good about themselves.  I mean, Copper Canyon Press, in the wake of Sam Hammill's departure tends to get their feelings hurt when one turns them down.  Knopf and Harper Collins do keep up appearances, but etiquette dictates kindness and understanding.  Some might say go the contest route, but I have two reservations.  Contests are so 2007, and bidding wars can be really nasty.  the publisher one chooses must be humble enough to be outside of the box, yet a true work horse.  After all, they are going to carry one all the way to the top.

Said press earns extra points if it has an paradoxical, or whimsical name.  My Big Fat Poetry Press, Flat Line Trajectory Press, Socialist Tractor Press, Self Immolating Monk Press, etc., etc.  You get the idea, right?

Status: Done.


Step Three: Promotion.  As attention whores, most poets will find this step the most easy to perform.  However, there are a few guidelines.  A poet must never speak about his or her own manuscript.  Instead, enlist the help of friends and former mentors to create a buzz about the poet as much as the manuscript.  Promoting the poet is important because most poets are genuinely boring.  Most poets are for lack of a better definition, sloven, one track minded bores.  If you are going to be the poetry world's next big thing, you need to stand out, be seen as unique, wear one of the secondary colors for an entire year.  Mere blurbs, blogging and Facebook just don't cut it any more.  You need to get former professors, imminent poets, and previous flavors of the month to sing your praise in blurbs, on their blogs, and on Facebook.

Said promotion will go further if you can get any of the following poets to sing your praise:  W.S. Merwin, John Ashbery, Philip Levine, Mark Doty, Maxine Kumin, Marie Howe, Dorian Laux, Marvin Bell, or Naomi Shihab Nye.

Status: Done.


Step Four:  Video Trailers.  Do them yourself or have a friend do them, but by god, they work.  Nothing says "Too Cool for School" better than  a video trailer of your book processed with scratches and sepia tone to make it look all retro.  And if one is good, then fifteen must be better.  Go hog wild.  Well, go tofu wild because a lot of poets are vegan. 

Said video trailers will have more of an impact if they are contrary while remaining true to the overall thesis of your manuscript.  How do you do that?  Two words: Trailer. Park.

Status: In the works.


Step Five: Swag.  I know swag is on its way out, but that's why you need to use it.  You need to demonstrate your non-conformist tendencies by displaying your adherence to barely out of fashion trends within the poetry community.  The best swag will of course be ironic.  Now you have a decision to make.  Do you want to express irony with your swag in a "I know swag is out of style and that's why I am so awesome by giving you swag which is silly and funny" or, do you want to express your irony by saying "I know swag is out of style and as such, I will be making a commentary on swag itself by giving you authentic and genuinely nice swag"?

Said swag should never, under any circumstances, be an expression of the poets genuine investiture regarding the emotional state of the readers.  In fact, it is considered a plus if the poet demonstrates a continual state of mild irritation regarding the reader.

Status: Done.


Step Six: Wait.  After having followed every "rule" for becoming the next big superstar of the poetry world, simply sit back and wait for greatness to be thrust upon you.  Remember the cardinal rule of this phase of the game:  Let those around you do all of the worrying and so-called heavy lifting.  Poetry is about standing on the shoulders of giants and taking all of the credit.  No poet ever gets to be canonized by being a nice guy and being genuinely in love with poetry.  It's a poet-eat-poet  world out there, and poetry has taught us anything (and it hasn't) you owe the world nothing.  It's the world who owes you everything.

Status:  About to start.

* * *

You know, I am so close on so many of these things.  Boy, this fame thing is going to be a good move for me.  I am so happy I decided to be a poet.

Every Word My Last

Just now I was reading a book of poems by the late Ken Brewer, and I stumbled upon a strange thought.  Ken passed away when this book was about to be published, dying from pancreatic cancer.  While sad, that isn't my stranger thought.  My strange thought was wondering how long he knew this was most likely going to be his last book.  I have this thought on occasion.  The first time I listened to John Coltrane's Giant Steps, I wondered if he knew his death was 11 years away, what I would be doing 11 years before I died---if I had already done that.  Probably not, but that isn't my point.

I have always had a fatalistic approach to my writing.  As a young poet I am sure that helped to write many of the dark and teen-angst filled dreck I was writing at the time, but later it still serves me.  With every writing project I complete, I literally believe for a short while what I have just completed will be the last thing I ever write.  I don't mean to think so, and I hope I am not looking at the issue from a this is my legacy perspective, but I do.  I look at what I have completed and I cannot imagine anything ever coming to me with the same sense of renewal as my last project brought along.  I cannot perceive of anything being interesting enough to ever write a poem about.  In fact, for weeks and sometimes months after, I find writing poetry distasteful, too much effort, and quite boring.

That's not the model.  I am supposed to be passionate about writing, but in the wake of completing a manuscript, my writing suffers.  Even this blog suffers.  I lose interest and I become obsessed with seeing the final product of my efforts even though I don't have the energy I am supposed to have to work on it any longer.  Many of the poets I admire are writing two or three different manuscript at once.  Others have a slower pace to writing and simply write a few poems every year.  Still others write furiously every day as if their lives depended on finishing a draft or two every day.

Here's what I am wondering:  Do we share a fatalism only to express it in a variety of ways?  A friend of mine once said, "I have written thousands of poems, and I would give them all up to write another one."  That's devotion, as are the other habits I listed above.  I wonder if my fatalism is my way of making what I write count for something more. 

Some day I will want to write more poetry, but right now I am feeling a little ambivalent about not wanting to write.  I almost feel like a traitor, a liar, and a fraud all wrapped into one because I am not writing poetry.  Having been through this several times before, I know I really won't be interested in writing poetry until I become genuinely afraid I have written my last poem.  Even then it will be a struggle to get back up on the horse.

Getting This Started

My book is supposed to be coming out this summer, so now is the time to stat setting these things up.  I do not find this work tasteful, but I see both its worth and its effectiveness, so on to the publicity.  I want to do this book release the right way.  I am finished hiding my light under a bushel.

I am looking for anyone who might be interested in having me come out to a classroom to do a reading and workshop.  I am also looking for people who might be willing to conduct interviews with me.  Primarily I am looking to make readings happen within Utah and Nevada, and interviews anywhere I can.  Why Utah and Nevada?  Because there is a much stronger possibility I can make this happen money-wise if such events are local.  So if you, or anyone you know needs a guest reader/poet for a class or two, please get in contact with me or pass along this information.

To be honest, I am more than just new to this sort of thing, I am a newborn infant in this world.  This is my second full length book, but I have never tried to schedule this sort of thing, and that's why I am asking all of you for help.  I need to get out there and get past my fear of asking for help when it comes to promoting my work and my value as an artist.

Places I can get to in Utah within a day or two:

In Utah, I can get anywhere along the Wasatch Front same or next day, guaranteed.  I can go as far as Cedar City and St. George by the next day, and I am willing to do the reading and workshop for what essentially amounts to gas money.  I have the ability to take days off from work (with over a semester's worth of sick leave) and I am willing to do so.

I must admit I fantasize about somebody wanting me to fly across the nation to participate in a reading and run a workshop.  I know that is as likely to happen as winning the lottery, but I need to put it all out on the table.  If anyone knows a guy who knows a girl who has a professor friend who is coordinating a reading series, I am interested in hearing about it.  Again, without any university affiliation of my own, I know this is not very likely.  Here then are some things about me to keep in mind.

My strengths:

Poetry of place.  Haibun and haiku.  Landscape meditation.

Where I would like to do my thing:

Anywhere, really.  I am willing to read and conduct a workshop from colleges all the way to middle schools.  Historical Societies and community workshops are right up my alley.

When:

Ideally I would like to get things set up in the Fall, but I am willing to get going to non-academic settings in the summer as well.

____________

How is this supposed to work?  On the contact page you will find my e-mail.  Simply pass on my information to who you know, or pass on their information to me.

Easy.

Rebel Rebel

Today's mini-rant is all about being a rebel.  As a high school teacher, I see kids trying to express their individuality on a daily basis, and with a very few exceptions, they are all miserable failures.  When I point this out to them I almost always immediately get a quizzical look, revealing they don't understand what it is to be a rebel.  Next, they give me that defiant look that says, "Hey!  I'm unique.  I am a rebel."  That's when I finish their sentence with: "Just like all of your friends."  It takes a few seconds, but most catch on to the strange predicament they have walked themselves into in the attempt to set themselves apart from the crowd.

The poetry community is much the same.  Yes it is.  Think for a moment.  Most of us, while many have their own voice, still fit within the confines of the cliched box.  We are terrified of that box, and many of us believe being poets sets us apart from the crowd, but we are in fact, simply trying to be different, just like all of our poet friends.  I don't excuse myself from this distinction.  I want to be perfectly clear what I am going to be talking about for the next few paragraphs in no way excuses me from the status of sheep or lemming, or mindless poetry zombie---pick your image.  I am different, just like all of my poet friends.

Thin about it.  On Facebook, how many of your so-called friends are poets?  How many of those poets talk about being published and talk about writing issues and being rejected over and over?  How many of them (us) toot our horn when we get a really good acceptance, or have a book taken by a publisher?  How many of us play the same corporate game of poetry we see everyone else playing?  More?  How many poets out there do you know of who are true rebels?  I mean the kind who truly go against the grain.  I can think of a couple.  Bill Knott comes to mind, and I am certain if I was to put a few minutes of serious thought to it I could name a hand-full more. 

Now put that in terms of how we support poetry.  How many people talk about how difficult the contest system is in the poetry world, but day after day and week after week, keep sending in their manuscripts to contests because of some secret desire they have to be able to put that in their bio?  I know I struggle with it every day, or most every day.  Hardly a day passes where I don't wonder what it would be like to be the poetry world's little darling or flavor of the month, to have my poetry accepted by some of the name journals, to have "winner of the ________________ contest for emerging poets.  I am being sincere.  I want these things and I am not certain how to feel about them or the fact I want them.

For years I have been urging people to support poetry presses by other means than entering contests.  Contests are so limiting.  It is my belief they literally stifle the creativity in poetry.  The entire poetry community is homogenous if your sample pool is wide enough, but I am not speaking of all of us fitting into a mold we can all recognize.  I am talking about expectations.  If all we do is envision the contest system as our means of book publication, we begin to move towards that which we think will win contests.  Isn't it already bad enough inside our heads as poets?  In my head I am constantly hearing my own little private radio station, passages and lines continually drifting in and out of earshot, and I ignore most of them, waiting for me to focus in on what I think poetry is.  It's my own little censor, but what if the poetry I ignore or am perhaps too fearful to write down is a new direction calling to me?  I think it's the same with poetry at large.  For the most part, too many poets are shaping their language to their perceptions of what they see going on, allowing what has come before to have too much of an imprint on their own poetry. 

I don't mean this to be a condemnation, just an acknowledgement, an idea of what I see happening.  I am continually blown away with the beautiful words from so many poets.  But if I am truthful, I see a lot of poetry that is trying to be the same thing, even if that same thing is trying to be different like all the other poems out there.  I certainly am not free from this reality.  I still write to please too many people.  That is, too much of what I write is written trying to please more than myself.  I just happen to think if more poets would go around the contest system, we would see a lot more diversity in poetry---even more than we see now. 

Of course, that diversity comes at a cost, because we poets need to support presses by buying books, and not just books written by our friends.  We need to buy books which constitute a risk.  I have bought many books I do not like.  I have purchased books by poets who write in a voice and/or style I will never write in, and I do so willingly.  I have said it before, but one of the things I admire most about Ron Silliman, even though we write nothing alike, is his willingness to read almost everything and anything.  He buys books and reads.  He rarely gives out praise and that's fine, but I respect his opinion because he reads the poetry I like, and he reads the kind of poetry I write.  he may not ever like any poem of mine, but he dares to take up the banner and march forward.

So, rock on with your poetry, but let your wallet do the heavy lifting and make a real change.  Be a rebel.  Be like me.

post-Acceptance Daze & a hot topic issue

For the past few days, I have been floating around in a little bit of a fog.  Having my manuscript taken and the contract mailed off, I feel as if I have very little I want to accomplish.  A lot of my writing, in this blog and elsewhere, seems to have tapered off.  I wrote one series of haiku, which might make an interesting chapbook project if developed, but other than that, I have been is a slight state of bliss.

I think my post title is appropriate, if for no other reason than it happens to be accurate.  I feel floaty and light headed knowing my manuscript is going to be a book.  I feel a little weak in the knees because I really believe I and my manuscript are a good fit with Aldrich Press and Kelsay Books (previously linked).  I am not empty or void of inspiration, but I cannot see myself writing right now, and I think my good mood is responsible.  I am not saying I write when I am miserable, but rather, my happiness is blocking my view.  I cannot see the things I want to write because I am content.

* * *

Lately, I have been spending my time on Facebook dealing  with conservative reactionaries, regarding gun control.  They paint all liberals as demagogues trying to take away their guns, and they use post hoc ergo propter hoc to try and frighten people into agreeing with their perspective regarding gun rights.  For the record, and I try to make this every time I respond to them, I am a President Obama lovin' liberal, a gun owner, and a supporter of the 2nd Amendment.  Do I think we as a nation need to re-think our position on gun control? Absolutely.  I think we need to have more individual registrations and criminal/psychiatric background checks.  Want to own a gun?  Then get licensed by the state, and be required to have it renewed every four years.  Make that license have classes, just like a driver's license, which states what kind of firearms a person can own.  Be required to take courses and proof of gun liability insurance.  Require gun dealers to confirm, with photo ID and background checks that they are selling guns to responsible, sane people.  Eliminate undocumented straw sales at gun shows, and make those selling at gun shows be licensed dealers or register for a special permit to sell firearms at gun shows.

What I think we don't need:

Guns in schools.  There are simply too many unanswerable questions and too many issues of liability to think having more guns in schools is the proper answer.

Hobble Creek Almanac Accepted for Publication

It is with great pleasure I announce my manuscript, Hobble Creek Almanac, has been accepted for publication by Aldrich Press, and imprint of Kelsay Books.  I don't have any specific information as to when the book will be available for sale, but I can tell you I have received, reviewed, and signed the contract for publication.  HCA will be my second full length book, and the third full length manuscript I have written. 

To be sure, I was thrilled to hear the news because of all my books, this one felt the most difficult to defend as a manuscript.  Not on a poem to poem basis, as I know all of the poems from the book are what I want them to be, but on the level of manuscript, the subject matter is a hard sell.  To refresh your memory, the book begins in 1850, with the settlement of Springville, Utah.  The book's first third concerns itself with the establishment of a Mormon Community.  The second section takes as its subject the life of a real resident of Springville, who lived from 1886-1969.  In this section I create a series of persona poems.  The third section is a first person narrative of the important ideas and places within the same town.  Where my book Town for the Trees was pure elegy, this section attempts to give explanation, some sense of why Springville is important to me.  Having a press take it so early on removes a giant weight from my shoulders.

That the book was taken is also evidence of doing my leg work.  I knew this book would not, could not win any contest.  Well, unless there happened to be a poetry contest for a collection of poetry written about the settlement of the west and/or Mormon pioneer history/19th Century Utah inspired pastoral poetry.I had four places to submit this manuscript (a fifth one would not respond to any of my queries) before this book would have to be shelved.  I am not exaggerating.  I knew going into this project the chances were slim at best this manuscript would ever become a book.  In other words, I got lucky.

Some things I do know ahead of time:

1.  The book will be available on Amazon

2.  The book will be $14.

3.  If you want a copy, I would prefer you buy it from me or through Aldrich Press (though if you buy it through me you are sure to have the book signed and get some extra goodies).

4.  This is only the beginning.

Writing in 2013

I never thought I was one to write prose, but with the completion of my latest manuscript (Hobble Creek Almanac) and beginning the submission process, I really don't want to expend my energy trying to write new poetry right away.  So, instead of trying to turn off my need to write altogether, I decided to redirect my writing energy into a prose project.

I had a choice when it came to choosing something new to write, and I certainly did not want to simply try to write about poetry.  Not only is that cheating in some ways, literary criticism is exhausting work for me.  Besides, there are plenty of poets out there willing to talk about poetry, telling the world why one poem succeeds and why another fails.  So I chose the other area of competence in my professional life to write about.  I am in the beginning stages of writing a book for prospective and new teachers.

The book I have envisioned and have started to write is one of an informal, conversational tone.  Too many books in my opinion within the education community talk from a place f authority.  Sort of Listen to me because I have a doctorate in education.  Well, one of the things I never really liked about the people teaching me in my master's program was the amount of time they actually spent in a classroom (either at the elementary or secondary level) before moving on to teach college and prospective teachers.  Many of them were only classroom teachers for 4-5 years, and by the time they begin to teach new teachers, they have been out of the classroom for another 4-5 years.  Still, they act as if nothing ever changes and for the rest of their careers, they are teaching as if time has stopped.

You see, I have a few ideas about teacher ed programs.

1.  Universities should encourage their education departments to be filled with a faculty who have taught at least 15-20 years in the public school classroom.  Instead, they require only 3 years experience.  Instead, they are worried about their terminal degree percentages.  A few things:  Teachers who want to get out of the classroom after three years are the teachers you don't want teaching prospective teachers.  Teachers who have 15 years experience in the classroom are vastly more suited to teach prospective teachers, regardless of a Ph.D.  They are the teachers who will tell the next generation of teachers what to realistically expect.

2.  Universities should work with content area departments to teach the methods courses, first locating teachers with real life classroom experience.  It always amazed me the man who taught me methods of teaching social studies was a professor who was brilliant, but had never actually taught high school.  That's right.  A professor of English, or history, or biology, can actually teach the methods course without actually having any teaching experience in the public schools system.  As yourself what method do most professors use to teach.  If you answered "lecture" you are absolutely right.  The fact is while lecture has it's place, and I use it a lot, it cannot be the extent of the method a teacher uses in the classroom.

3.  The majority of focus education programs have in fostering new teachers should be in the areas of classroom management, varied instructional  methods, and effective lesson planning.  I don't know where I would have been if I had not been in the army before I became  teacher.  My university gave me one classroom management class, and I know they have a lot of ground to cover, but my course focused on seating charts, creating a syllabus, and time management.  We read a chapter or two about different theories of discipline, but it was little preparation for the vast array of issues a new teacher faces in the classroom.

4.  University Education faculty should be forced to co-teach with a classroom teacher one semester every five or so years to refresh themselves with the realities of the classroom.  And I don't mean mentor a new teacher in the classroom or supervise a teacher.  I mean co-teach.  Plan lessons, lecture, create learning activities, write and grade assignments.  Everything.

* * *

I have written just under 10,000 words so far, and I plan to write between 40-50,000 word in total.  Right now I am writing the framework of the chapters.  I am going to insert anecdotal evidence in the various chapters and do my best to reinforce the conversational tone.  I envision a short book prospective teachers can read as part of their own curiosity rather than as part of some kind of curriculum.  I want to eventually set it up as a Kindle Edition through Amazon and sell it really cheap.  I want new and prospective teachers to hear about what really happens in a high school without theory getting in the way.  I want new teachers to be able to have some advice as o what will help them to avoid many of the pitfalls which are waiting for them as they enter the schools.

That's what I am doing right now.