The Double Dark Theory of Our Universe

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Years ago, when I was taking one of my first memoir workshops, I remember a classmate reading aloud to the class what she had written. She was very excited about her project—a book about her cancer diagnosis and subsequent treatment. What she read aloud to us was her reaction in the moments after finding out her cancer had returned. Specifically what I remember is a long sentence that went something like this: “I cried, I was angry, I was sad, I was scared, I was confused, I was distraught,” and the sentence went on to include a greater list of difficult emotions.

As a listener, I understood her emotions on a mental level, but I didn’t actually feel any of the things that I knew as a writer she was hoping her readers would feel.

Fast-forward to a couple of weeks ago, when I was preparing an author talk to a group of writers: the Lost State Writers Guild. Because I am usually speaking to a group of readers (who aren't typically writers), my author talk centers around life lessons I have been given, but because this time I was speaking to writers, I also wanted to give more insights into the writing lessons I have learned over the years. 

This meant opening my talk with a new poem. As I mentioned in an earlier blog post, I always start my author talks with a poem I love, written by someone else, that has inspired me. The one I chose for this particular talk to Lost State was one I had come across by Chloe Clark on Twitter back in April.

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When I first read this poem, it broke my heart open. In the weeks that followed, I read it many times, both silently and aloud, and I began to study it more, to look at how the poet had taken something very emotional and never once used a word of emotion—like “sad,” “disappointed,” or “despairing”—to convey to the reader what was being felt. (Okay, yes, the word “happy” is used, but not to tell the reader that anyone in the poem is happy.)

The writerly lesson is this: when emotions run high (or what some people call “hot”), write cool, meaning don’t describe anger or sadness or crying. Instead, have some distance and coolness in how you convey these.

You can thank Anton Chekhov for this advice, by the way, not me. He wrote, “When you describe the miserable and unfortunate, and want to make the reader feel pity, try to be somewhat colder—that seems to give a kind of background to another’s grief, against which it stands out more clearly.” He also added, “The more objective you are, the stronger will be the impression you make.”

(Yes, I learned that in school. Thank you, Queens University MFA.)

Thank you, Chloe Clark, for allowing me to read it at my talk and to post it on my blog. This poem is quite a beauty.

And thank you, Lost State, for asking me to speak to your group. 


"The Double Dark Theory of Our Universe" is part of Chloe Clark's book, The Science of Unvanishing Objects: Poems (Finishing Line Press, 2018).

The red flower pictured is from the lovely geranium that the Lost State Writers Guild gave me as a thank you. It is gracing my living room window as I type this.

 

 

 

My Survival Guide to AWP

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Last week, I went to my very first AWP Conference & Bookfair—the annual gathering of writers, writing programs, publishers, presses, magazines, journals, and basically word nerds from all over. 

Everyone warned me: “It’s overwhelming.”

More than 12,000 people attend this conference (eek!), and over 2,000 people present, plus there are over 500 readings, panels, and lectures on the craft of writing. Them’s a lot o’ numbers! But the conference was in Tampa, which, when I booked my plane ticket many months ago, didn’t seem that hard to navigate. Right? I got a hotel down the street from the convention center, paid my conference registration and relaxed until about two months ago. Then I got overwhelmed, not at anything in particular, but just the idea of it all. Which is basically the root of a lot of my anxiety: Don’t have anything specific to worry about? That’s okay. You can worry about it all!

Okay, I did have a few particular concerns, which my husband made me list off so he could dismantle each one. I am gratefut to be married to someone logical and level-headed. I relaxed enough that I was actually looking forward to it by the time I started packing (two and a half days before my flight). I decided I needed a strategy not to get overwhelmed once there: Instead of trying to race to a bunch of panels throughout the day, I would focus on the bookfair, talk to presses and magazines and find out what I didn’t know.

I’m happy to report that this strategy served me well, and I got to see and meet people I never would have if I hadn’t spent that time. 

Here are a few highlights:

First up, the editor at Press 53: Kevin Morgan Watson. Two years ago, when I was trying to find a publisher for my memoir, I contacted him for advice. Years before, I had heard him speak at the Antioch Writers’ Workshop, and even though he didn’t remember me (he couldn’t have—I was just one small face in a big audience), he gave me great advice, looked over the contract of a prospective publisher, and basically made a big difference to my book’s future. I wanted to thank Kevin again in person for his generosity and time, and I did that. I also knew some of his writers already (I've read their books!), so I got to talk to them, and I met some new ones, including an author who runs a website (Bookfox) with tons of writer resources. Yay!

Next, the booth for The Ohio State University, the school where I slogged my way through a journalism master’s degree (and only made it through by taking as many electives as I could in creative writing). The OSU Press has a literary trade imprint, Mad Creek Books, and I loved talking to the editor about the press and all the new initiatives, and about my hometown, and my beloved state of Ohio. It made me nostalgic but proud. 

I spent quite a bit of time talking to staff members of Superstition Review, an online literary magazine I had never heard of until then, but their enthusiasm got me excited. Maybe I could have my poems published there, too, I thought. “What kind of poetry do you like?” I asked. They talked about what they liked, and what they didn’t like: narrative poetry, which is pretty much what I write. Undeterred, I researched the magazine later, read a bunch of what they published (and found many poets I admire), and decided to go for it even though my work doesn’t fit perfectly with what they love. Thats what AWP does! It makes you gutsy!

I also had a long conversation with the managing editor of CavanKerry Press and learned about Poetry Out Loud, a program for high school students in which they compete for the best recitation of a poem. (And oh serendipity—on my flight home, I read a feature article about Poetry Out Loud that just happened to be in the magazine I had brought with me. I felt like the universe was telling me, pay attention, chica!) I’ve already contacted the organization to see if I can get something going in my local high school (though the high school doesn’t know it yet).

And last but not least: I spent a bit of time gabbing with Southern Fried Karma, a new press that has begun with a bang. The publisher, Steve McCondichie, and his associate publisher, April Ford, both went to the same creative writing master's program where I went, and their weekly zine, New Southern Fugitives, published two of my poems this year and a review of my memoir. I wanted to say hello, but mostly I wanted to go to their table because I just really like them both. Good people, as they say in these parts.

And my friends, my dear writing friends! They were the best part of the conference. On my last night, Robert McCready made us go traipsing around downtown in search of ice cream. (None of us were exactly protesting.) I made them stop outside the Taco Bus to snap a pic.

These people keep me sane in the writing world. They make me laugh. They make this word nerd feel like when she’s with them, she’s found a writerly home. I can't thank them enough for making my first AWP a great one.


Next month is National Poetry Month! I’ve lined up some great poems from some great poets to share with you on my blog. I've also partnered with Robert McCready, who will be reciting them on YouTube. If you haven’t checked out his poetry series on YouTube, you must. (Here is Robert reading one of my poems published in New Southern Fugitives.

Until next time, happy reading, happy writing, happy life.

Cold Feet on a Hot June Morning

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What’s a wedding without cold feet? Some stories did not make into my memoir, but sometimes an interview will bring one out, which is what happened in the interview I did with Michael Brantley.

Michael was one of the first people I met in my MFA program at Queens University. He was in his fourth and last semester when I was just beginning, and he was one of two peers I studied with at the start of the two-year program. I learned not only from Michael's critiques of my work but also from his strategies and successes of becoming a published author soon after he graduated. (Here’s a link to his first book.)

Thank you, Michael, for this interview, and for being a part of my Queens family.

Here is the first part of the interview: 

MB: How did your book come about?

SC: When I was 29, on a June Sunday morning in a hotel in Cincinnati, I said goodbye to my college friends at the end of my bridal shower weekend. I was standing in the lobby, and as each of my friends left to drive away and back to their own lives, I made my way to a payphone to call my  fiancé—my own future life. That’s when I felt a panic wash over me. The feeling didn't leave me for a couple of hours, but I chose to ignore it the entire time that it stained my mood and thoughts. It took me many years (and a wedding and a divorce) to understand what my body had been trying to tell me that I dismissed. (Back then, I was good at dismissing.) My memoir doesn't really begin there, but that's one of the first things I wrote down. Eventually, the memoir became much bigger than that part of my life, and it forced me to explore what I believed about love, destiny, fear, and faith and how those things had informed the many choices I made and shaped who I am today.

MB: How long have you been writing and publishing and what brought you to it?

You can read my answer and the rest of the interview here.