NaPoWriMo 2017, Day 4

Message in a Bottle

Rescue me from the tyranny of water
Rescue me from water all around
Rescue me from calculus, both kinds
Rescue me before this island sinks
Rescue me until you're rescued too
Rescue me when you think I'm okay
Rescue me from fear--I'm trapped and grounded
Rescue me above the time - the time
Rescue me from this time and this place
Rescue me from a blank bulletin board
Rescue me from solitary hashmarks
Rescue me in case of flood or fire
Rescue me break glass but remain clam
Rescue me and I meant "clam" not "calm"
Rescue me - tornadoes in my dreams
Rescue me - in quicksand ever sinking
Rescue me - running always running
Rescue me - the water heats to steam

Written with students and colleagues @ FIT in Traveling Through Language presentation and workshop with Anca Cristofovici

Another Saturday Night

Here's a poem I drafted with my Tuesday morning Poetry Writing class after the September 17 explosion on 23rd Street (and unexploded device found on 27th Street). Dan Shefelman heard me read it at FIT's Academic Open Mic, and we ended up having some of our words included in the ChalkFIT exhibit.

Another Saturday Night

and I got nobody never

never no how no way

no day do I wake up 

in the green of a Sunday

next to a body that is not me.

No, sirree, I'm F-R-E-E

and blowin' in the wind

no sin    no ramifications

of our stepping out, stepping in

with someone who may or may not

have our best interests at heart

no tart horning in, no spin

no twisting to look thin

no morning-breath grin

and gee-willikers it's been

a mighty long time since

the lane was clear for me to pass,

keep sass, and break the fast

in the L-A-S-T gasp of a blast--

Ahem. That was it, the time we had

no alternative but had to walk past

the site, the fright of shrapnel, and we might

glaze over it's been so long

since we felt safe—

we are never safe, never safe 

never safe wind up for the throw

and place your javelin dart,

arrow, expert archery will

get you nowhere, whether or no

and I solemnly swear I will    I will

I will    I will    I will care

every time I see another news

report of the dead, stripping us bare

and elemental it’s elementary

welcome to the Twenty-First

Century where everything happens twice—

in real time and online and over

and over and over and over

it rhymes these men    these men

and boys these guns used like toys

these cries not tears of joy and when was

the last time you heard a politician

who was not a ploy? The brazen brazier

of the plain plaisir another Saturday night

and the ladies are feeling right,

the car gave us an awful fright,

the first responders are outta sight

and that is what and where and when we

must begin and end

the ever-loving better-living fight.

Poetry Jump-Starts (for my classes and whoever else needs them)

It's Wednesday, which means that Mary Biddinger is tweeting a new Summer Poetry Prompt, as she is doing every Wednesday this summer. I thought I would post the prompts I give to my FIT students here, too.

Poetry Jump-Starts

Here are some prompts to get you started on a poem! 

·      Write a poem in the voice of another person, a creature, or an object, using first person (dramatic monologue).

·      Write a letter in verse form to a famous person.

·      Write a verse letter to someone you know very well.

·      Is there a piece of art or music that you admire, or even dislike?  Write about it—describe it, but try to say something beyond the mere description.

·      Look out your window at the scene you see every day.  Observe it for some length of time.  Try to imagine you’re seeing it for the first time.  Do you see anything new?  Use your imagination.  Then write.

·      Go somewhere you’ve never been before, and write about what you see there.

·      Write about an image from a dream. Describe it as specifically as possible, just as you remember it, without interpreting or explaining it.

·      Write about a specific, detailed memory.  Using sensory detail and/or figurative language, try to “show” the significance of that memory to your reader, rather than “telling” it. (Try to use all five senses—sight, sound, smell, touch, taste)

·      Take two lines from poems by someone else.  Write one at the top of the page, and one at the bottom. Write your way from the first line to the last.

#NeverForget: My 9/11 Poem

A few days late, I know, but I feel like sharing. On 9/11/01 I was 8 months pregnant and teaching a 9am English Composition class at the Fashion Institute of Technology. Before class, my students and I could see the towers from a hallway window--black smoke coming from one of them. We'd heard a plane had crashed into it--pictured a small plane, an accident. Numbly, I gathered the students in for class. On our break an hour later, one young man went outside and ran back in: "They're GONE!" The classroom next door had the TV tuned to CNN with the diptych of the WTC site and the Pentagon. We were told to go to the main lobby of campus. First, I went to my office, called my husband, sent emails to my family.

I've written more about that morning here. What I think about now is my students, all of them freshmen, most of them new to FIT and NYC. I think of the young man whose cousin "went missing in the towers," according to an email. He disappeared and dropped out of class. A couple others, from my honors writing class, left FIT and went home at their parents' insistence. The city seemed suddenly too dangerous for them.

A few years later, I drafted this poem based on a prompt given by George Bilgere at the Antioch Writers' Workshop. I worked on it from time to time, and recently it was selected by Kathleen Ossip  for the "Child" issue of WSQ.  Never forget.

Ah, Summer! Taking the Virtual Blog Tour...

Summer is half over already (or something like that), and all of the "real work" I was gonna do has yet to be done. Instead, I have been teaching (2 online classes in June), parenting (more on that later), and plunging into a healthy new lifestyle of plant-based food and regular exercise. Oh, and recovering from one heck of an academic year, both for myself and my kids. As I have learned many times over the years, I really need a deadline, and a metaphorical cattle prod, to get words down on the page and out in the world.

So I was delighted to be invited by a dear and long-time friend, April Lindner, to participate in a "virtual blog tour," aimed at giving more exposure to blogs that readers may not have seen before. It's been quite awhile since I've posted (yikes!), so I figured this would be a perfect opportunity to get Saint Nobody up and running again--in hopes of revving up my own writing. This is the first in a series on various subjects I've saved up since my last post--time to put it out there.

First, meet April, the author of two poetry collections, This Bed Our Bodies Shaped from Able Muse Press and Skin from Texas Tech University Press.  She also has written three young adult novels—Jane, Catherine, and the forthcoming Love, Lucy, all published by Poppy. With R. S. Gwynn, she co-edited Contemporary American Poetry, in Longman’s Penguin Academics series.  A professor of English at Saint Joseph’s University, she lives in Havertown, Pennsylvania.

April and I were classmates in the PhD program in Creative Writing at the University of Cincinnati many moons ago. We read drafts of each others' poems in workshops, were roomies at my first-ever AWP Conference (Pittsburgh '95), and walked together for our doctoral hooding ceremony in 1998. It's been wonderful to see April from time to time at AWP and the West Chester Poetry Conference near her home in the Philly area. I've been a fan of her poetry for years, and have watched her career as a YA novelist with admiration ever since my niece, Mary, devoured the signed copy of Jane I gave her in 2012. I'll be posting a poem of April's, which I've used often in my classes, later in the week.

The next component of the blog tour meme is a quick "self-interview." Because this post is already fairly long, I will answer briefly here, and elaborate a bit in future posts.

1. What am I currently working on?

my creative brain ?

Needless to say, when you are recovering from a trauma it messes with your mind. In my honors class, Creative Imagination: Theory and Process, we study some of the research about the brain and how it's used while you're making art, solving a problem or coming up with innovative ideas. Our main text for the past few times I've taught it is Nancy Andreasen's The Creative Brain, which is a readable, manageable little paperback that digests some of the theories of creativity over the centuries, and presents the author's own research in neuroscience. We also look at a number of "case studies" of creative achievers in the arts, sciences, and business--from Michelangelo and Leonardo to Maurice Sendak and Maya Angelou.

I'm so grateful to be teaching this class right now--as usual, I feel that it's benefitting the teacher at least as much as the students. It's been two years since it was offered, and this semester I've been discovering some new publications on the subject. Not only do they give some important information (including new research in the social sciences), but I am finding them helpful to me on a personal level, as I struggle to try to write (always a struggle, but now more than usual).

One of the topics we focus on is what I used to term "Creativity and Mental Illness." Andreasen has a chapter called "Genius and Insanity," and the link between the artistic ability or exceptional intellect and psychiatric disorders has been oft-debated. After reading the introduction to Ruth Richards's Everyday Creativity and New Views of Human Nature, I was very encouraged: Richard and colleagues have found in their research that the exercise of creativity (including writing, art-making, and other activities) can actually alleviate some of the symptoms of disorders like bipolar and depression.

Meanwhile, I was in the middle of Heather Sellers' amazing new memoir, You Don't Look Like Anyone I Know, which is about Heather's recovery of and from a difficult childhood, and the discovery that she has a rare neurological condition called prosopagnosia ("face-blindness"). Heather has been one of my favorite writers for a long time, and her books Page After Page and Chapter After Chapter are lifelines for me when I need to pull myself out of the waters of procrastination and writers' block. In the memoir, Heather describes reading about schizophrenia (which she suspects her mother has been suffering from), and discovers that some of the uses of language that are "symptoms" of the disease sound a lot like things she tries to get her creative writing students to do! It's a fine line....

I was also thrilled to see that interviews with creative people who have been on Studio 360 (one of my favorite radio shows)  have been compiled in Spark: How Creativity Works. When my copy arrived from Amazon I stayed up much later than I should have because I couldn't stop reading it!

By far the most exciting of the new "creativity handbooks," though is Your Creative Brain: Seven Steps to Maximize Imagination, Productivity, and Innovation in Your Life. The author, Shelley Carson, has taken all of the research I've seen here and there and framed it in a usable, practicable, even "fun" way. I'm determined to read it cover to cover ASAP and put it into practice in my life!

everyday creativity: a way of healing

I've been doing some research for the honors course I am teaching this semester, Creative Imagination: Theory and Process. Our main text is The Creative Brain by Nancy Andreasen, and we have a number of handouts and a lot of books on reserve.

When I first started looking into this subject while I was working on the course proposal, I discovered that much of the research of creativity has come from the social sciences--mainly, psychology and education. (This was also at a time when "creativity" was a highly charged buzzword in the business world--every CEO apparently wanted to know how to make employees more "creative.")

that can't-do attitude

It happens every semester. The Overload. The Swamp. The crush of student writing to respond to, all of it deserving of careful time and attention. I don't want to let them down, which adds to the sense of impossibility. But it does always get done somehow...

Now, though, it's a battle against the forces of Can't. The militia of What Were You Thinking? The special forces of Here We Go Again.

Reinforcements welcome!

back to school

It's the first day of classes for spring semester at FIT, and I'm starting right at 9 a.m. with Creative Writing. I'm excited to meet my new students and get into the swing, but it's been a real challenge to prepare amid some pretty serious personal tumult. Among other things, Bob has been out of town for over two weeks (he returns Friday), which means that I have truly been a single mom with all that entails. (Jenn M. et al., I don't know how you do it!)

Stella's sleep patterns have been even more erratic than usual (and there have been numerous poopie incidents), and it has taken both kids awhile to adjust to their dad's absence. But so far we're surviving and have even managed to have a little fun, like when we went into the city to get Stella's hair cut at Cozy's (the only place that can actually cut her hair) and afterwards to Patsy's for pizza. The spiritual work I have been doing has really made it possible for me to handle everything, along with the support of my parents and a couple of extraordinary friends. OK, time to finish the syllabus and head to class!

random catchup

I've been trying to be all literary/philosophical/witty/artsy/heartfelt/introspective/creative lately in my postings. And the result is that I have a bunch of fairly self-absorbed, occasionally cryptic pieces of prose that don't necessarily tell the story of what's going on in my life.

While I can't really talk about EVERYTHING, you know, I do want to give some various thoughts and updates.

How are the kids? They're pretty good. Really. Bobby had a flu this past week he caught in PA (thanks, David!)--it started on his birthday :( and he was home from school three days, which made for some scrabbling around so Mom and Dad could work. We're having a party for him and 6 or 7 of his closest friends tomorrow at the apartment (Lord help us). My baby boy is nine. Unbelievable. Stella is her strong-willed yet adorable self. Well, the strong-willed part is asserting itself quite a bit more than usual lately. Yesterday I got a call from her teacher expressing concerns that Stella has been having tantrums and crying fits, mainly around "transition" times. Everyone keeps asking, "Is something different at home?" but it really isn't--Mom and Dad each spend about the same amount of time with her, and the routine, other than the holiday, is pretty normal. I'm wondering if it connected to a cognitive growth phase--she is able to understand thing in more complex ways, but is still not able to articulate her own thoughts and wants and needs. I can't imagine how frustrating that must be. She can still be a lovey, though, despite her bursts of temper. And she has a fetching new haircut.

How's work? Oh, don't ask. It's the end of the term, and I'm facing the usual pile (physical and digital) of student work to comment on. This semester I'm teaching an extra class for some extra bread, and it's just about killed me. Fortunately, my students are great--they never cease to amaze me with their insights and energy. I really do love teaching at FIT.

How's your writing? While my participation in the actual process of writing has been limited to therapeutic journal pages and comments on student papers (and emails, text messages, and the occasion blog post), things are definitely a-brewing on the literary front. Last week I got the page proofs and cover design for Saint Nobody. Just sent in the corrections yesterday. After all the years and tears and fears, it's really, really going to be published. And thanks to Red Hen Press, it looks marvelous. And it looks as if Denise and I may have a publisher for our chapbook of collaboratively written ABBA poems--stay tuned on that. I'm hoping to get back to the memoir in January. We'll see.

How are you? Hmmm. That's a tough one. OK. Surviving. Praying a lot. Running and doing yoga when I can. Trying not to be too much of a drama queen (and you know how hard that is for me)--sometimes succeeding at that. Grateful for friends--amazing people I have leaned on this past year, listening ears and sage advisors and fun socializers and cool and smart and solid and trustworthy. I'm so lucky. I only hope I can be as good a friend to them as they have to me. And grateful for my mom, whose birthday is tomorrow.

welcoming the godfather

It's been years in the making. Lee Gutkind, dubbed "the Godfather behind Creative Nonfiction" by Vanity Fair, is our writer-in-residence this week at FIT. I've had the pleasure to welcome Lee to two of my classes and introduce a lecture he gave yesterday on the public and private voices in creative nonfiction.

Tomorrow, he's reading from his own new work:

Room D211
Fashion Institute of Technology
7th Ave @ 27th Street
1-2pm

Books for sale. New subscribers to Creative Nonfiction magazine will get free back issues. A fantastic time will be had by all.

contemporary gothic reading tonight

Gothic: Dark Glamour
Contemporary Gothic Literature
Thursday, December 6, 2008
6-7 pm
The Tile Gallery at the Museum at FIT
Seventh Avenue at 27 Street
New York, NY

FIT students, faculty and staff read selections from Anne Rice, Margaret Atwood, Sylvia Plath, Stephen King, Neil Gaiman, and more.

(including Moira Egan)

Hope to see you there!

gone with the wind

Today on the way in to teach my fabulous Creative Writing for Illustrators class for FIT's M.A. program in Illustration (I'm so lucky to get to work with these excellent people--and I'm not just saying that because I told them about my blog and some of them will be reading this), I made it onto a W train that was just about to pull out of the station. For some reason, the trains were all running on the middle tracks, which meant they were express from Astoria Blvd to Queensborough Plaza. It also meant they were packed, especially the car I was in, even at 2:30 in the afternoon.

I walked to the front of the car in search of a seat, or at least a space to lean. I settled on the space in front of the doors, which I knew would be opening at the next stop. I was holding one of my prized possessions, my Transitchek Unlimited Metrocard--I am not exaggerating when I say that Transitchek has saved my life. They deduct the fee pre-tax from my paychek, and I get to ride subways and buses as much as I darn well please.

I have been keeping the card in my wallet, and make a habit of replacing it right after I use it, but after paying my fare I had to run up the stairs and catch the departing train. I turned to try and open my backpack, and the card flipped suddenly out of my hands. It landed, not on the floor, but in the interstices between the door and the doorway--I watched helplessly as my dear unlimited Metrocard slid swiftly, so swiftly, through the crack and, presumably, to the outside of the train car.

This means (1) I have to pay $4 in fares I normally would not. And (2) I have to spend some of my valuable time tomorrow getting a replacement card at the midtown offices of the Transitchek company--not at all on my way to anywhere I need to go. Just what I would love to be doing. Sigh.