Showing posts with label Virtual Artists Collective. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Virtual Artists Collective. Show all posts
To Katia Mitova's Dream Diary
Thank you for the door into night.
You have cut it with heavy scissors
and we bend it to open it.
Night on one side
and night on the other.
Red Riding Hood's Sister finalist for Oklahoma book Award
I'll be going back up to Oklahoma after 3 days at home for the Oklahoma Book Awards. Red Riding Hood's Sister is a finalist for the award in poetry. I'll found out at the banquet this Friday if it made it past finalist. Finalist is pretty good if it stops there, but fingers crossed!
Post Script to Writing to Heal Workshop
Sunday I taught a Writing to Heal workshop at the Will Rogers Activity Center in Oklahoma City, through the Parks and Recreation Department. I enjoyed it a lot, not only the teaching and sharing but also meeting the people who came to learn and write.
A few things I've been thinking about--
1--Remember to protect your writing by being careful about sharing, particularly those who wrote on topics that were troubling to them.
If you came more to find a way into writing (several of you in the workshop), you can share your early efforts or not. If you do, pick people who are supportive. That matters when you begin to write because sometimes people shut you down without realizing it. They think you want a critique when all you really want to do is let them see what you are doing. Over time you develop a thicker skin and you don't take it so seriously when somebody doesn't understand what you were trying to do. (There will always be some who don't "get it" and others who do). You can always say, "I'm not looking for feedback. I'm just sharing something I'm enjoying doing."
If you came with family members or friends (at least three sets of you), don't ask to see their writing.
2--On writing your story for children and grandchildren, of course you will share. Some suggestions on getting ideas--
--Look at old photos. Write who was in the photo and what was happening then.
-- If you have old letters, write down extra details.
-- Tell stories about your childhood. What was life like?
-- Write about major decisions you made. What did you do? Why? What happened then?
--Think--what do you want the children to understand? For them to understand, what do they need to know?
3--A question came up afterwards of where to hide writing if you really need to keep it secret. I suggested to the two writers who asked: 1) you can destroy it (remember, it's writing it that heals, not so much reading it later), 2) you can find a place hidden away (mine was way back behind the water bed, though it was not as great a place as I thought).
I'd like to add to those,
idea 3) Give it to a good friend to keep for you and ask them to find a hidden place for it. You might want it later to make sense of a confusing time.
Any other ideas?
You are welcome to follow this blog. If I see that some of you are, I will write some posts that I think would be helpful to you.
A few things I've been thinking about--
1--Remember to protect your writing by being careful about sharing, particularly those who wrote on topics that were troubling to them.
If you came more to find a way into writing (several of you in the workshop), you can share your early efforts or not. If you do, pick people who are supportive. That matters when you begin to write because sometimes people shut you down without realizing it. They think you want a critique when all you really want to do is let them see what you are doing. Over time you develop a thicker skin and you don't take it so seriously when somebody doesn't understand what you were trying to do. (There will always be some who don't "get it" and others who do). You can always say, "I'm not looking for feedback. I'm just sharing something I'm enjoying doing."
If you came with family members or friends (at least three sets of you), don't ask to see their writing.
2--On writing your story for children and grandchildren, of course you will share. Some suggestions on getting ideas--
--Look at old photos. Write who was in the photo and what was happening then.
-- If you have old letters, write down extra details.
-- Tell stories about your childhood. What was life like?
-- Write about major decisions you made. What did you do? Why? What happened then?
--Think--what do you want the children to understand? For them to understand, what do they need to know?
3--A question came up afterwards of where to hide writing if you really need to keep it secret. I suggested to the two writers who asked: 1) you can destroy it (remember, it's writing it that heals, not so much reading it later), 2) you can find a place hidden away (mine was way back behind the water bed, though it was not as great a place as I thought).
I'd like to add to those,
idea 3) Give it to a good friend to keep for you and ask them to find a hidden place for it. You might want it later to make sense of a confusing time.
Any other ideas?
You are welcome to follow this blog. If I see that some of you are, I will write some posts that I think would be helpful to you.
Red Riding Hood's Sister accepted for publication
I just heard from Steven Schroeder at Virtual Artists Collective that their press is going to publish my second poetry collection, Red Riding Hood's Sister. So that's exciting!
Now I need to start thinking about places to read it. Festivals, book stores, women's centers. My summer trip next year is going to be more about going places to read than hanging out in the forest!
And workshops, I've got some workshop ideas too. Lots of things to think about.
Here's a poem from it. (It was published this last winter in Rat's Ass Review)
Carny
Why these memories
of punk mermaids
at the all night carnival,
copper nipple rings
turning green from corrosive air?
The barker rasped the night with insults,
the Stones blared eight track
static fizzy on car
radio, shaggy heads
bounced to the music bingo
and she said no and no and no.
But she must have said yes
sometime, some spring
break, some wild
party night
yes to Jack Daniels and crawfish
red on carny sticks, yes
to lying down under bleachers
yes to her torn heart.
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