Moving on...

Starting today, 1/1/2012, I'll be blogging at the stanza: a little room for poetry & the writing life. I hope to see you there.

Reading and Retrospective

First, Reading.
Those of you who have been reading here for a while may remember that I always post a list of books read in each year. Although I have lower than usual confidence in my record-keeping for the wild and crazy 2011, here's the list (and please forgive me for not properly formatting titles):

At Home: A Brief History of Private Life by Bill Bryson
Adam and Eve a novel by Sena Jeter Naslund
A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson
Blood Almanac poems by Sandy Longhorn
Threshold poems by Jennifer Richter
Rookery poems by Traci Brimhall
The First Four Books poems by Louise Gluck
Gilead a novel by Marilynne Robinson
Housekeeping a novel by Marilynne Robinson
The Forgotten Garden a novel by Kate Morton
Wuthering Heights a novel by Emily Bronte
A Room with a View a novel by E.M. Forster
Pearl of China a novel by Anchee Min
Rebecca a novel by Daphne duMaurier
The House at Riverton a novel by Kate Morton
Sacred Hearts a novel by Sarah Dunant
A Gate at the Stair a novel by Lorrie Moore
Private Life a novel by Jane Smiley
Queen Bee Moms and King Pin Dads by Rosalind Wiseman
Heart's West: True Stories of Mail-Order Brides on the Frontier by Chris Enss
The Beekeeper's Apprentice a novel by Laurie King
Today's Special Dish poems by Nina Lindsay
A Reliable Wife a novel by Robert Goolrick
The Price of Privilege by Madeline Levine
WAIT poems by Alison Stine
The Everything Tween Book by Linda Sonna
Selected Poems by H.D.
Colosseum poems by Katie Ford
When Will There Be Good News? a novel by Kate Atkinson
The Stone Diaries by Carol Shields

up next:

No Eden poems by Sally Rosen Kindred, and
Death Comes to Pemberley a novel by P.D. James

And now, Retrospective.
Reader, Both Fires is almost three years old. My how time flies.

In those three years of my life as mother, we've gone from little ones, to big-ish ones; from the bird theater to exclamations of "Epic fail!" and "Whatever." (Oh, how I detest 'whatever.').

In those three years of my life as writer, we've gone from the fledgling poet just trying to connect to the world of poetry a bit, to the still-fledgling poet who is now sending out her work on a regular basis and sometimes even getting acceptances; from the mom who felt guilty taking time off to write, to the writer who knows her children will be better and stronger because she pursues her own creative life without apology.

In those three years of my life as person, we've gone from the teeny tiny woman (who, I'm glad to tell you, doesn't live here anymore) to a gal who, yes, has a chronic illness but who now has the right meds and a clearer diagnosis, and who can see her illness more as a sculpting life force than an invisible box.

I've enjoyed writing here, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading.

Starting tomorrow, I invite you to join me at the stanza, where the story of mother, of writer, of person, poet and pilgrim, will continue. I hope to see you there.

Reader, I wish you peace, joy, and everything wonderful in 2012 and beyond.

Takin' This Show on the Road

at our friendly neighborhood CalTrain station

I'm considering a new tag line for my life: "have poems, will travel" (other contenders: "all times approximate" and "warning: introvert - approach at your own risk." This last one is my favorite for Kinder pick-up time).

Lately, I've been putting some feelers out into the Bay Area poetry scene, hoping to find other poets and make some connections. Because I'm naturally shy, and thanks to the librarian voice in my head that keeps saying, 'but you're not a REAL poet,' I have had to put on my brave heart in order to enter these waters.

But, gladly, my efforts have panned out.

The first connection I made was with Laura E. Davis who blogs at Dear Outer Space. I first crossed paths (virtually speaking) with Laura when I came across Weave Magazine, the literary journal she founded (how cool is that, by the way!? She started her own journal!). I bought an issue or two of Weave, and really liked what I read there. Then, last summer, I was reading through Adanna where one of my poems had landed, and came across another poem I really liked, noted that the author's name sounded familiar, but I wasn't sure why. Enter the rabbit hole of poetry blogs..... a month later, I came across a link to Laura's blog on another poetry blog, and finally put the puzzle together: this was the Laura E. Davis of Weave, and she had just moved to the Bay Area, too! Coincidence? I'd like to think not. Anyway, long story longer, Laura and I exchanged e-mails and decided to work together, exchanging poems and information, etc. Our first meeting was last month; our second will be this Sunday. We meet at The Creamery near the CalTrain station in San Francisco. I'm thrilled to have found a poetry pal, and excited to work with Laura, whose writing is beautiful and exciting, and whose journal you should read.

Another connection came to me through a class I'm taking from Molly Fisk (the class, by the way, is called "Getting Your Work Out" and it has really helped me to commit to a more regular practice of submitting my work to journals). Molly forwarded me an e-mail that had been circulating through poetry circles about a group in Berkeley that was looking for a new member. I decided to send my work to the group to see if I might have a shot at joining them. Last week, they invited me to come to the next meeting to see if we're a good fit (me for them and them for me). Berkeley is a bit of a hike from our little peninsula town, but I'm hoping it will all work out, and if not, at least I've made a tentative connection with a few more Bay Area poets.

And speaking of taking the show on the road, I wanted to let you in on a little secret: For the past few months I've been working on building a new blog -- one that's a bit more dedicated to poetry, out of respect for my kids' growing sense of self and privacy. I'll be making the transition in the next few weeks, and will definitely let you know when my new blog is live. Meanwhile, the Mom Trying to Write still has a few things to say about motherhood, so I'll be blogging here for at least a little while longer. I hope that you'll follow me over to the stanza: a little room for poetry & the writing life when I make the switch. Feel free to take a sneak peek now, if you like (not that there's much to peek at).

And now, I must take another show on the road. There is a "Cultural Heritage Luncheon" for Sister's Kinder class today (gripemumblemumblegripemumblemumble). When I asked her what kind of food she wanted me to bring, I was filled with fear. We are Scottish and Irish. Would I have to learn how to cook haggis or mutton stew? You just have to love a little girl whose answer was, "Hot dogs and beans, Mama! Hot dogs and beans!" That, I can handle. In less than an hour, I'll be pulling the hot dogs and beans down the block in our little red wagon.

Happy trails to you today, Reader.

Nine O'Clock Missive, Sunday Night

Dear Reader,

This is just to say: I am still here.

I am reading your blogs, you who have blogs, but saying little.

I am jotting short phrases in my notebook, like: "furta sacra -- the theft of sacred things"

I am reading the smallest of poems: haiku by Basho, Buson and Issa.

I am pondering permanence and transience.

I am paddling a canoe full of kids across a wide river. We are wearing life preservers and mostly smiling.

The fire is banked. The embers promise to glow and burn again when they meet with the breath of time and space.

Thanks for reading and for waiting. In peace,

Molly

Waiting to Exhale

Reader, I took my first deep breath in five days at 10:39 this morning when I got a text from Husband saying he was at the airport waiting for me to pick him up.  He had been in India for business and became ill, so spent an extra three days there during which I was never quite sure how well or ill he was.  Between this small worry on the homefront and the terrible news from Japan and other quarters of the world, my brain has been complete mush.  I've been doing things like forgetting my own phone number and boiling my teakettle dry.  And ignoring the po-world and this blog.

I confess, I am not so very impressed with my ability (or lack thereof) to remain calm, centered, and clear-headed in times of worry.  But, I've just finished screwing my brain back in its socket.  Now give me a couple more days of deep breathing and I think I'll be back to normal.

As for now, it's Husband's birthday and I'm off to cook someone's favorite dinner and dessert... . (By the way, he's weak and weary but he's going to be fine).

Does Anybody Really Know What Day It Is?

The poet is *not* at work.

(Don't think about that too hard or you might find yourself feeling extremely philosophical.  I'm just sayin'.)

Reader, it has been a jumble this week.  Every day has felt like Tuesday (cue Morrissey for all the 80's kids:  "Every day is like Sunday....").  You might have noticed I was a little wordy on Wednesday, but it didn't dawn on me until last night when I was lying awake thinking about household tales, revisions, and aubades.

The germ of the week has been cycling through around here.  Yesterday afternoon, I finally gave in and took Sister to the doctor after a gentle push from an older, wiser woman in my life (thank you, you know who you are).  After having sent Sis to nursery in the morning, I learned that she has a sinus infection.  I feel like the Mother-of-the-Year, and I am here to tell you that, yes, it does take a village to raise a child.

Friday has been my drafting day of late, but today once I figured out it was Friday and also discovered we seem to be completely out of food, it quickly became menu-plan and grocery-order day.  With Sister at home recuperating, I wouldn't have a long stretch for drafting anyway.  I still struggle when the realities of family life run into what I think of as MY TIME, but I am getting better at being flexible and rearranging things so that I can get my writing done another day.  Right now, Sunday looks like my best shot.

Also changed are my reading plans.  Yesterday morning Traci Brimhall's Rookery arrived in the mail.  Because I know I need to sit down with Jennifer Richter's Threshold (mentioned Wednesday) when I have a calm and quiet mind I'm still a little afraid to read Threshold, I went right to Rookery while Sister slept yesterday afternoon.  Having read the first section, I can say I'm loving it so far: vivid images, surprising turns, and interesting entanglements of our humanness and creatureliness (is that a word?).  Lately, I've taken to doing the first read of a book with pencil in hand to capture my immediate, visceral, and unconsidered responses to a poem.  I think this helps me to "learn" a book better.

Lastly, I want to share a few thoughts I've been having about this blog.  When I started writing here, my kids were all quite small and they lived their lives freely and unselfconsciously as all young children do.  Now they are older and, especially for the Bean and AJ, life has become larger than our little family.  They have lives and public personae of their own.  They are growing out of the free and unconsidered existence of early childhood,  as we all must.  As this unfolds, I feel less and less comfortable about sharing what have become their stories on this blog.  Even the harmless "cute kid stories," and the funny things they say, take on another light when I think of how they would feel if they knew I had written about it in a public forum.

I think I've mentioned this before, and I don't know exactly what this means for this blog going forward.  Maybe for now it just means there will be more Writer Raising Kids than Mom Trying to Write, and more general musings on motherhood than particular anecdotes.  I just wanted to let you know things might be shifting a bit, and to thank you for reading thus far.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I've been invited to a tea party in the front room.  Happy weekend, everyone!

On Hiatus

Reader, everywhere I look schools are closing for the long President's Day weekend. One school (Sister's preschool) even closed when I wasn't looking -- oops! To add to the fun we have house guests this weekend -- people we love very much who have come to us from the Motherland, er, Michigan. Needless to say, I'm away from my desk for a few days (but was able to get a few good revisions done this week).  Have a wonderful weekend!

Glad Tidings

Reader,

I am signing off for the next week or so.  I will be drifting in snowflakes and shoreline, sifting through pages and favorite lines, driving through drumlins, and drawing near to people I love.  Also, rumor has it my mom is going to make my favorite dinner.  Whatever this holiday season, this world-on-pause for a week or so, has in store for you, I wish you comfort and joy.  And I hope someone cooks your favorite dinner for you, too.

Thanks for reading,

Molly

In Which the Poet Adds Notes

A couple readers reminded me of how I used to add Poet's Notes at the end of poems back in the early days of this blog, and of how they liked them.  I went back and added notes to yesterday's post for those who are interested.  Just an FYI... .

This Blog & Summer Vacation

Well, Reader, it's only a matter of time before Summer Vacation happens. Sister is already finished with nursery school for the year (goodbye to those six hours per week of time to self), and The Bean and AJ finish a week from Friday.

I know I'll have less time to blog during the summer months when I am All Mama All the Time (well..... except during my predawn poetry moments), so I'm going to try something new for the summer: Wordless Wednesdays.

This concept is, of course, stolen from other bloggers out there in the world. The idea is to post only an image or photo on Wednesdays -- hopefully an image/photo that speaks for itself. Being a writer and lover of words, the challenge for me will be keeping it wordless. And here's a disclaimer: I am not a photographer by any stretch of the imagination. So the images/photos may not be stellar in terms of artistic value, but will be little views into the days of the Mom Trying to Write/Writer Raising Kids.

Sometimes it's fun to try something new. I hope you enjoy the Wordless Wednesdays to come.

Spread the Poems: A Giveaway

THIS GIVEAWAY IS NOW CLOSED
I'm joining the group of poet-bloggers over at Book of Kells who are giving away free books of poems to celebrate National Poetry Month in April. To have a chance at winning one or more books of good poems, just comment on this post before April 30 letting me know you want 'in' (or - for those of you who don't want to comment in a public forum, feel free to send me an e-mail to say you want 'in'). Regardless of how you throw your hat in the ring, make sure I have a way to contact you in case you are the lucky winner of the books I'm giving away, which are:

1. (this will surprise no one who has been reading this blog lately) Selected Poems by Denise Levertov, who I know doesn't really need any more fame than she earned for herself during her lifetime, but who wrote stunning poems and is an important poetry Foremother. Jacket text:

"... I have read her poems for their subtle music, for their imagination, for their author's dignity and integrity and grace; and most of all, for the indomitable and humble spirit that hungers there." - Sam Hammill, The American Poetry Review

And one of my favorites:

To Speak

To speak of sorrow
works upon it
            moves it from its
crouched place barring
the way to and from the soul's hall --

out in the light it
shows clear, whether
shrunken or known as
a giant wrath--
           discrete
at least, where before

its great shadow joined
the walls and roof and seemed
to uphold the hall like a beam.

2. A suite of three books from The Laurel Poetry Collective. The Laurels are a group of local poets and artists, some of whom have reached regional and even national audiences, who joined together in 2002 to create "beautiful, affordable books chapbooks and broadsides" (I quote from their website). For the last five years, I've had the pleasure of studying with Tom Ruud, a member of the Laurels, in his Monday night poetry group. Tom's book, Unable For the World to Sleep, along with two volumes yet to be chosen (depending on what I can get my hands on) will comprise the suite of books for the giveaway. Here's what other poets have said about Tom's work:

"This is a poet who reveres language, and loves our beautiful, broken world." - Deborah Keenan, author of Willow Room, Green Door

"It seems impossible for Tom Ruud to write a line of poetry that doesn't sing with intelligence." - Jim Moore, author of Lightning At Dinner

Here are some of Tom's singing lines:

Who Knew
for Sylvia

I'm sure the park bench knew,
feeling our heat
on cool evening planks;
and the darkening bushes, too,

I'm sure they knew,
joining their hands in their secret way,
feeling quite protective, in fact,
now they had a job to do;

and the grass knew everything,
as the wise dusk crept in
to cup the flame
without a word.


On May 1, I will randomly choose two entries and, shortly after, will send the books to the lucky winners. Full disclosure: Winners may receive a used copy of the book(s) above, but in that case, the book will be very gently used. Chances are, all books will be new, but I haven't done the shopping yet.

Spread the word to anyone you know who might enjoy reading some new (or old favorite) poems this spring. April is poetry month, and this is my little effort to spread some poems around. Good luck and thanks for playing. (And for a longer list of poetry book giveaways that you can enter, visit Book of Kells; the list is in the left-hand margin).

Blog-o-versary

One year ago today, I christened this blog and began to write regular posts (I had posted a few poems prior to that, partly for practice, partly so that there was more than just one thing to read). My reasons for wanting to blog were twofold: First, I saw it as a way to share my poems. Second, I hoped it would inspire me to do different kinds of writing (that is, not poetry) and stretch myself a bit as a writer. I remember feeling quite shy about it at the beginning. I confess, I still do feel shy about it. Blogging sometimes feels like writing a letter to someone, and instead of putting it in the mail, posting it on the bulletin board at the neighborhood coffee shop. One wonders who will read it, and if they will find anything in it that touches them, makes them think, or makes them laugh.

Or will it just be tacked over by one of the babysitting or yoga fliers?

That strangeness aside, today seems like a good day to say thank you, Reader (whoever you are) for showing up. Believe me, there was a part of me that thought you wouldn't (show up, that is). I hope there has been something for you to enjoy here, something to think about, something to laugh about, something to take you away from the daily grind for a few minutes. That's what this blog does for me, and I'm grateful for that.

Over the next year, I'm hoping (hoping! hoping!) to have a little more time to devote to writing pieces on living with chronic illness; social/political trends that interest me; essays on spirituality, belief and nature; memories and what we can learn from them; and of course, more on books, parenthood, and the writing life.

I expect to be posting fewer and fewer poems, and probably will begin removing those that are here. I'm finding that more and more publications will not accept work published ANYWHERE (emphasis theirs) on the Internet. Despite my philosophical quarrel with considering personal blogs as "published" material, I feel I must give way to this trend. My great goal in life, aside from being a Good Enough Mother, is to be a Big Girl Poet. That means fewer poems posted here, and more poems submitted somewhere-out-there. If all of you keep your fingers crossed for me, and if I work really hard, maybe someday you can read my poems in a real live book. A girl's gotta have a dream, after all.

Sweet dreams to you, Reader, and thanks for coming along for the ride.


(Image is Dictionary Through Lens by "booksworm" - public domain through Wikipedia Commons under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License).

We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties

For those of you receiving e-mail notifications of new posts:

Something fishy's going on. I'm not sure if it's me, or Blogger, or Feedburner, but some of you have received e-mail updates with random old posts attached to the new post, and/or posts with HTML tags embedded in the text.

Let's do an old-fashioned work-around, shall we? If your e-mail notification seems funky, try visiting the blog site directly (which seems to be working fine). My tech support guy is off this week.

Thanks & happy evening to you.

A Little Light Blog-Keeping

(which is like "a little light housekeeping" but different, and more fun)

With heavy heart, I am removing a few poems here and there so that they might be considered by The Journal That Does Not Accept Submissions Published Elsewhere Including Personal Websites. I'm sure I will miss having the poems here more than you will. I'm especially sad to say goodbye to Wendy, because I think she really fits in on this blog. Ah, well...... they tell me if I'm going to be a Big Girl Poet, I really must submit from time to time.

Also, I'm fiddling a bit with labels as the body of work (that's a writerly term, to be pronounced with mucho gravitas, followed by giggles) develops here, so you might see a few changes over there in the left-hand margin from time to time.

And that's really all I've got for you tonight, sad to say. My wingman, known also as Husband, hasn't been seen much in these parts lately (he has a good excuse: employment) and I'm scrambling to keep up.