Day 1 wrap up

Revised three poems today. Or rather, turned three crappy drafts into poems. I'd call my first day in the country a success.

I also laid out in the sun, got a little color (sorry sun-screen fanatics, I'm all about tan lines) and read a romance novel. But don't tell. I should have been reading Ted Hughes or Karl Marx.

By the way, Nora Roberts circa 1983 is phenomenally bad. I mean, way, way worse than Nora Roberts circa 2003. Apparently, even romance novelists have room for improvement.

Went to the MCA yesterday and was wholly underwhelmed. I'd been there once before to see the Jenny Holzer exhibit (which was very cool) but didn't go upstairs to see any of the other exhibits. Well, the thing is, I didn't ever really need to go upstairs. They have like 3, 4 artists featured and I didn't really "get" any of them. The biggest exhibit upstairs was very engineering/physics heavy, and frankly, I have no interest in that sort of thing. I think they swap out the exhibits pretty regularly, so I guess I'll try again on another free Tuesday.

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I also went to look at an apartment yesterday and I am getting pretty sick of people lying about what neighborhood their properties are in. There was nothing Logan Square-ish about this place--the sidewalks were crumbling, the yards overgrown with weeds, and I'm pretty sure if I was there after dark there would be hookers and drug dealers on the corner. The agent called while I was on my way there and had to cancel, but I didn't get the message until I was standing outside of this building looking up and down the street in complete horror. If these are my options, I'll stay where I'm at.

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I didn't finish my ms revisions or get them to Jay yet. My new deadline is today at 12:00. I've got 4 hours to get this thing in shape.

One of the things I'm trying to do (I've almost decided which poems are staying and which are going) is to re-order the book without relying on chronology--primarily because I don't want a chunk of childhood poems right at the beginning. But they've been in a certain order for so long, I'm having a hard time imagining them as separate pieces again. What a strange process this is.

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Canceling netflix may have been a bad idea. Requesting movies from the Chicago Public Library is painfully slow. And now that all my TV shows are done for the summer, there are no good free episodes to watch online.

Maybe I'm just not a hard-core enough writer, but there are only so many hours a day that I can use my brain, and after that, I just want to stare at a flashing screen.

In Praise of Deadlines (I hope)

Today is the day that I will finish a draft of my manuscript--individual poem revisions, reordering, the whole deal. Why is today the day? Because I made a deal with Jay. We're trading. Tomorrow.

I can't procrastinate any longer. I can't hem and haw about which poems belong in the ms. I just have to decide. Hallelujah.

There just aren't enough deadlines in my poetry life now that I don't have a thesis committee to please. And it'll be three years before I have a new committee, so I guess I'm going to have to start recruiting friends to be deadline givers more often.

I'm feeling pleasantly frantic and urgent. Good for creativity.

Manuscript Madness

Yesterday, I sat down with my manuscript plus the 40 poems that aren't currently in it (mostly new, but some are from my MFA workshops that didn't make the cut for my thesis), and started to do some shuffling. And then I just got frustrated.

When I was ordering my thesis, I had three sub-projects that I was trying to weave together: childhood/family poems, Donny & Stella, and waitressing/working class poems. It all worked well because Stella was "my" cousin and she was a waitress, and I wrote some Donny childhood poems and he was a working class guy...at the time, it all made perfect sense.

But when I look at the manuscript now, there are about 5-10 childhood/family poems that don't fit and I'm anxious about the Stella stuff because of the chapbook--literally half of the full-length manuscript is in Flood Year. I feel like I need to do more with Stella so that folks who read the chapbook have something new to learn about her if/when In the Weeds goes out into the world. But that's a minor concern. I know that lots of poets' first chapbooks land directly in their first books. It's the poems I want to take out--they're going to need to be replaced or the ms is too short (and way too Stella-centric at that point). So, then there's those 40 unaccounted-for poems. Do they (some of them) end up in ITW? Or are they for a new manuscript(s)?

What I ended up with yesterday were three piles--which could turn out to be 3 manuscripts. And it would feel really, really nice to have a sense of the trajectory of my first three books. But I wonder if I'm drawing these lines in the sand that don't need to be drawn. Some of the poems in pile three could easily be integrated into ITW. I could even slap Donny's or Stella's names on some of them and add a few identifying details and *poof*--they're persona poems.

Right now, I wish that I wrote with more purpose. For the last year or so, I've been writing always with my thesis in the back of my mind--I knew when I turned it in that it didn't feel done to me, but everyone who read it at the time told me it was ready--so half of me thought the poems I wrote were for my second project, and half of me thought they were for ITW. I wish I'd been more deciscive, because now I'm just confused.

I've pushed back my personal deadline/goal for getting this manuscript in the mail 100 times (okay, maybe more like 10 times) and I don't know if it is truly for artistic reasons or just because I'm chicken shit. Then again, I knew my chapbook was ready and only had to send it out twice. If I know this manuscript is ready, will I have the same good luck? If I send it out when I'm still unsure, will I be wasting my postage and my reading fees?

And then there's the problem of revision--previously my favorite part of the writing process. But lately, I haven't been able to see beyond the first draft of a poem. What's missing, where is it going, how can I blow out the walls? These questions used to inspire a writing frenzy, now they just cause me to stare out the window listlessly. Eh, I think, this poem's pretty okay as is. I don't really know what else to do with it, so I guess it's done. That's not who I am as a writer! At least, it's not who I want to be. But I've lost my knack for re-visioning. How do I get it back?

Spring Break Randomness

I found this post card at the coffee shop the other day and absolutely love it. The photographer is Brian M. Heiser, and I might just have to beg him to do my cover art some day. The post card is just about the exact visual representation of my poem "The Orchard".


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Speaking of cover art reminds me of that lonely manuscript that I've been neglecting. Hoping spring break affords me some time to hammer away at it. If not, I will at least do some serious submitting. It's hard to get published when you only send work out once every six months.

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Twilight is at the top of my netflix list. I only get one movie at a time and two a month (which is often more than I have time for) so I'm trying to figure out when the best time to send back the movie I already have will be. If I mail it today, they might get it before Twilight is released. If I wait...all the teenie boppers might get it and start holding it hostage and I won't get it until next month. I'm pretty anxious to see if Edward is more charming on screen than he is in the book (I thought he was kind of a douche-bag, to be honest).

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I don't know if I've ever really blogged about this, but I'm pretty obsessed with my Italian heritage. I'm almost as obsessed with the Bulgarian side of the family (and the suspicion that we might have been gypsies), but that's not the point right now. When I was a kid, I was bummed that I didn't have a cool Italian last name (my mom's maiden name is Morelli, her mother's maiden name is Bentivegna). I was also bummed that I didn't get as good of a tan as my mother, and that my hair wasn't as curly as my sister's. Who knows genetically how "Italian" these things are, but in my mind, there was a one-to-one connection. Vanity aside, I've always loved all things Italian and all things Italian-American (although I admit, I'm not much of a mobster movie buff, and that doesn't quite make sense to me) and recently, Facebook has introduced me to someone who shares my obsessions (Hi Joey!). This is perhaps one of the first Facebook connections with someone I didn't already know that might be somehow productive. We're going to be chatting Italian-American poetry and whatnot and I'm really excited.

I've also decided (almost decided) that I want Italian to be my language requirement for my PhD. I took 4 semesters of Spanish in college, but they don't count because I got a C my 4th semester. I could take a placement test and hopefully remember enough to place me in that 4th semester again, but I think I'd rather start fresh (besides, then I'll be a tiny bit tri-lingual). Now my super-undeveloped plan is to take 2 semesters of Italian next year, then go to Italy next summer (maybe some intensive classes) and start checking out the contemporary poetry scene over there. Maybe do a little translation. Ah, pipe dreams. And credit card debt.

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I'm heading back to Ohio next week for a few days and am worried that I'm not going to get enough work done. I have to take my car to the dealership, go to the dentist, do a bunch of other errands that I can only do in Ohio because I haven't fully transitioned to being an Illinois resident, plus see friends and family...but I have about 18 books to read (that's only a slight exaggeration. It's more like 9), two paper drafts to write, a stack of papers to grade, and all the po-biz stuff I was talking about earlier. Whatever happened to relaxing?

Post-breakdown post

After a nice, long weekend with my family and my bf, I'm back in Chicago and freezing my butt off. But more importantly, I am feeling a lot better about life in general and have realized that I just need regular doses of home in order to manage my new life and circumstances. I'm close enough to Ohio that a weekend trip is manageable, so I don't know why I was exiling myself for the last two months. That won't happen again...especially since I'm going home 8 days from now and again for Thanksgiving. And after Thanksgiving, only 2 weeks left in the semester.

Despite my recent emotional instability, this semester has been flying by. We're more than half-way done and it's time to start writing papers and revising workshop poems, which are two of my favorite tasks. It's weird...writing term papers is kind of agonizing, but it's the kind of agony I enjoy. Over-caffeinating, running high-lighters out of ink, sitting in my un-ergonomic desk chair for so long I can't walk when I get up, showing up to turn in my paper with a bandanna and grungy sweats... I'll hate myself for a couple of days because I procrastinated too long, and then the adrenaline will kick in and that's when I love being an academic the most. Remind me of this a month from now when I'm panicking, okay?

When I'm done here, I'll be starting on the revisions because one is due tomorrow. I love when revisions are required during the semester and not just for the final portfolio--gives me more motivation to do more than 2 drafts, which is necessary most of the time anyway. It'll be interesting to see where these revisions take me. I've written about five/six new drafts this semester and turned in a couple of older, but not polished, poems for workshop, so there's a combination of Stella manuscript-ish stuff and stuff that doesn't fit into a project yet. Maybe, as I'm revising, I'll see that they're all about Stella & co., or maybe I'll start to see a new trajectory developing. Either way, I'm looking forward to envisioning these poems as part of a series. I've found that I don't like writing poems that don't belong to something larger. They feel shapeless and meandering.

Speaking of shapeless and meandering...my blog is definitely suffering, and has been since I went on the road back in May. I certainly haven't stuck to my resolution about doing more po-biz here, and my site meter is showing that people are tired of me whining. Alas, I struggle to find something more thought-provoking to write about because my brain is just tired lately. When I'm emotionally unstable, I don't do much serious thinking, except about me-me-me. Sorry, folks. Hopefully soon. I'm regaining balance.

Love Letter to A. Van Jordan

Dear Van,
Akron loves you.
Signed,
a fan
Photo courtesy of The Word Cage.

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Seriously, though. The reading on Tuesday was great, but talking with Van in workshop yesterday was awesome. I said I wasn't the question asking type, but after finally reading M-A-C-N-O-L-I-A, I had to ask him about sequencing. When I was ordering my thesis, I didn't want to put things in chronological order, but I couldn't see any other way. M-A-C-N-O-L-I-A is in reverse order--sort of; the sections are in reverse order, but within the sections, the poems don't necessarily move chronologically. Yet it all made perfect sense. Van said he had to ask what the central question of the book was and then he ordered the poems so they would move toward the moment of MacNolia's greatest potential. I've thought about the "central question" a lot with non-fiction thanks to Varley, but I didn't think of it that way with my thesis. Now I'm thinking about it...and I'm not even sure what the central question is. I have to go back.

It's crazy to say, but I think I was waiting for this conversation to finish my manuscript. I got so many ideas about new poems and a new order for In the Weeds that I can't wait to have the time to sit down with it and tear it apart. It's going to be so much fun!

I was just telling my students yesterday that revision is my favorite part of writing. Something to look forward to when the grading is finished. 2 weeks left in the semester (I don't have much going on during exam week) and then I can get back into poetry mode. Thank God!

By the way...the weather is freaking fantastic. Finally, it's spring! I'm totally wearing a skirt without tights today.

More good news

I'm also going to have work (multiple poems!) in the winter issue of FRiGG. That makes my acceptance to rejection ratio since returning from Arizona 1:1. That, my friends, is my best ratio yet.

Even more exciting is that they're taking one of my favorite poems, one that has been read by no less than 17 different editors with at least 2 of them writing "almost" notes. Needless to say, I'm feeling pretty darn good right now. If there was any wine in this apartment, I'd be opening a bottle to celebrate. Unfortunately all that's here is bud light and that doesn't feel like much of a celebration to me.

I spent aaaalllll day today working on my AZ homework assignment - 10 new pages. I finished the requirement and realized I didn't even scratch the surface of all the notes and journal entries I made while traveling. I would love to continue dumping the contents of my brain on to paper, unfortunately, a girl has to sleep every now and then. Also, I have poems for both classes to revise this week because both portfolios are due within the next seven days. That leaves 3 weeks of summer to write more new stuff.

I'm dreading/anxiously anticipating the revision process because I don't normally produce drafts quite this quickly, which means the drafts are probably less polished than I'm used to. It will be interesting to see how it goes.

Okay, kids. I think it's time for me to wrap things up.

I haven't unpacked anything yet. Nor have I done any laundry. I may be going to class tomorrow in an entirley inappropriate outfit. (Nothing like dress pants and a graphic tee, right? Or a wool skirt and tank top?)

Stuff n' things

An interesting way of re-visioning over at Peter's. CP talks about two sides of poetry, the first side consisting of music, imagination, and disorder; the second side: form, story, order. He claims, if you balance both sides, your poem's working. Well, I think we all know that I'm doing fine on the form, story, order side of things. Just sometimes I don't get the imagination and music like I want. I'm trying to work on this. I'm trying to find other revision ideas/strategies until I find one that clicks with me, because nothing has just yet.

Tonight, I'll be hanging out at Mary's with Amy and Jana to talk thesis. Freaking thesis! I am so not ready to graduate. Or maybe I am ready to graduate, but I don't feel like I have time to finish everything I wanted to do while I was in this program.

Mona was talking about how much she loves Washington and now I'm wishing I had the money to fly out and sleep in my friend Brad's barn again. He lives out in the middle of no where, in an old barn that's been converted into an apartment. It's smack in the middle of a sheep farm. With grape vines and all kinds of good stuff, see:

This makes me think about place, about calling a place "home." I've never lived anywhere but here. I've never been more than an hour from Mom and Dad and my hometown. When I was in high school, I desperately wanted to get out. But that desire has faded over the years and I deeply love this little corner of the world that I occupy. But what else is there? Am I missing something by not leaving the proverbial nest? As I think about PhDs, I think a lot about location. Climate. Population density. Cost of living. Comfort. How on earth do you choose?

Third time's the charm

Lots of blogging today...turns out I have a hard time focusing on one thing for 8 hours straight. Go figure.

I've also realized today that I prefer to revise poems on paper. Didn't know that before. I suppose usually my revision process entails fixing line breaks and changing a word here or there, but the poems I'm working on right now require major surgery, which is easier to do on paper for some reason. Sadly, this means that I haven't gotten too much done. (Because I don't have access to a printer here)

Also sad is the fact that I've decided about 12 of my rough poems will never be anything more than they are right now. So much for 100 poems. Between combining rough drafts that were too similar or dealing with the same subject and junking some others, I'm down to 81 lines on my spreadsheet. : (

And finally, a random question. How come I get a temp job the same week that all my friends and family are in from out of town, and how come they all want to see me on the same day?

Wait, that wasn't final. I also want to know, is "how come" an Ohio thing? or worse, a Tracey thing? I was picking on my mom the other day for asking me to "go down the basement." Not "go downstairs," or "go down to the basement." This is another linguistic picadillo that I can't identify. I'm okay with regional things (unlike Bailey, who seems to be offended by her own Ohio-ness) but I don't like it when my family butchers the English language and rubs off on me.