Writers' Conference Aftermath: First Impressions and the Most Important Thing I learned

The conference ended just over three hours ago and I won't pretend to have anything like the distance required for a full and thorough review. I'm exhausted but still excited, and holding a very firm intention that this has been just the beginning - of many new friendships and connections, of more performance poetry happening here in Homer, of my own attendance at conferences like this one, of my wholehearted and unashamed embracing of myself as a poet and a writer.

I remember the years-ago experience of being so jaded by academia and conferences, of being cynical and disappointed, exciting topics not being met as they deserved, panels echoing one another and not really saying anything, books larded with postmodernist jargon and too dense to evoke any real enthusiasm (or even comprehension). Granted, that experience took place when I was still floundering around trying to find my way out of anorexia and not really living at all, when everything palled and galled and fell short. And granted, after I've been to a whole bunch of writers' conferences, my enthusiasm to dive in wholeheartedly, be vulnerable, speak up, sincerely tackle every exercise offered, may wane a little. But I would never want to exchange the childlike enthusiasm that I experienced at this conference for that more somber mode of response. It's been a long time coming, but for these last four and a half days I have really lived the philosophy that life is meant to be enjoyed - something that has usually been a merely intellectual construct for me.

An obvious marker of this enthusiasm was that I felt so spoiled for choice. Every concurrent session, there were at least two presentations that I wanted to attend. Phil was a trooper, and often went to my 'second choice' (which often suited him just right). But I did get the full benefit of two sessions with each of the wonderful Poetry teachers - Maurya Simon, of whom I was already a fan, and Emily Wall and Joan Kane, both of whom were thoroughly inspiring in their different ways. In each of their sessions, we had the opportunity to write a poem of our own - or a draft of one - sometimes we had as little as ten minutes! And this brought home to me the truth of the fact that it's not just the faculty who were inspiring and wonderful: many of my peers in the room wrote the most beautiful, moving, inspiring or otherwise amazing poems!

And here was the golden kernel of what was possibly the most important thing that I learned: no need for value judgment comparison! When we really want to be good at something, it can be tempting to hear someone else who is really good and feel discouraged, think 'why do I bother?' or 'they're so much better than me.' And some such thoughts did pass through my head. But as I saw them passing through, I recognized that as much as I admired these other people's poetry, I didn't wish to have written it! I admired their level of accomplishment and in some cases it inspired me to think about how I could improve my own. But I want to tell my own poems the very best that I can, so that they are as touching/inspiring/beautiful/heart-pulling as they can be, so that they can be their best - not to take on someone else's voice.

This realization was so comforting and so empowering. Academics and poets all the way back to the Ancient Greek world have so often been so highly agonistic: Strife one of the great motive and creative forces, as Hesiod, Heraclitus, Empedocles, and others, all said.

It was great to have the opportunity to ask Michael Cunningham some questions about his writings, and then to have a workshop with him. He is one funny guy! In his workshop, he had the whole room create a character in polyphonic style, demonstrating how much is revealed about a character just from her physiology, attire and affect. We laughed so much, and there were some vigorous disputes too.

Laughter was served further in ample measure by Bill Roorbach, Dinty Moore, and Stephanie Elizondo Griest, but all three of them constantly offered profound, compassionate, deep messages together with the laughter.

I was especially grateful for the short presentation on performance poetry by Joan Wilson: reading poetry aloud, or performing it, seem so central and crucial to understanding it.  

And it was eye-opening and informative to hear from editors Elisabeth Dabney and Jennifer Pooley and from agent April Eberhardt about the business end of things. One of the major take-home messages was that the potential of the internet for communication and promotion is great and merits great attention.

Of course, there were several other presenters that I didn't get to listen to. I feel like I have about a week's worth of research to do online checking through and following up on what I've learned.

Nancy Lord closed with a memorable list of eleven pieces of advice for writers practicing the craft: a well-packaged take-home message to launch our new beginnings.

The View From Here/Up For This Week

The View From Here

After a gloriously sunny weekend that left many conference participants (notably my husband) at least partially regretting the enforced indoor time, it's clouded over again today and is blowing up strongly. Somehow the gray skies seem to accentuate the green everywhere, which is still comparatively new, remember, and hints at the promise of some dearly longed-for rain. The topsoil in our raised beds is so clay-predominant that  it's cracking open if we don't water every day. I'm doing 'we' sneakily: here 'we' mostly means Phil. I'm not so good at hauling 6-gallon jugs, and that's all the irrigation we have. Good job Phil is so strong.

This is Monday evening, just about to have another session of readings that are also open to the public: last night's show was an eclectic mixture of different kinds of laughter and some deep notes and chords struck. 

I'm still super-buzzed by it all but my energy is fading. I should definitely plan some significant downtime after this, no messing around on that score.

Up For This Week

I will definitely post a more thorough review of the Writers' Conference when I have more time and a little more distance from it. 

Of course it's been an intense sensory/social/informational/literary overload, and it will take some time to sort all of it out in my mind. However, a recurrent message from those at the 'business' end of the writing world was that using the internet as a communications tool is a very good thing to be doing as a writer. I've been so excited to be connecting with other writers (of poetry in particular), many of them right here in Homer, and am imagining that I'll be wanting to write about 'writerly' things more in addition to all the food and healing writing. I hope that that doesn't make my blog too eclectic or schizophrenic, but I never wanted it to be a monophonic, one-trick blog: that's not the way life is! That's what 'ulterior harmony' refers to.

So, probably some more musings this week about where I'm going with this blog and this life, and hopefully some putting into practice of those ideas. I know I missed my 'Theme and Variations' post last week and haven't done a 'wordstalk' for a couple of weeks, so time, energy and internet connection permitting, those will come too!

Our camera should also arrive any day now, so hopefully more pictures to come too!

Postcard from The Writers' Conference

Just starting the second full day of the Kachemak Bay Writers' Conference. I'm so excited! It has been just awesome so far. The panel discussions have been inspiring and representative of diversely valid perspectives, something for everyone. I've been going to all the poetry workshops, and it feels exhilarating to be in a room with several others who regularly write poetry. They're all so good too, so inspiring. And there are some who live right here in town, so I'm already seeing that we will stay in touch after the conference.

I ended up being the first reader at the open mike. Four minutes each: that is not very long! Having originally planned to read five poems, their juxtaposition forming a structure of its own, I ended up reading just two. It's been a long time since I've been up on stage and I was quite nervous indeed. But just like it always used to be when I did a lot of performing, as soon as I was onstage, I was just fine, happy to be there. And I'm glad to have done it, because I feel like it 'broke the ice' and made me approachable.

Michael Cunningham did an extensive reading from his new novel that's coming out in a few months. I was riveted and didn't want him to stop. Cunningham's writing is always so riveting to me, and it's sometimes surprising to me because all his novels have so very much in common in terms of their trajectories, and yet the characters are so lovingly developed and the prose is so beautiful that I'm always entranced (and don't wish to exit. Sorry, bad pun).

My energy has held out really well so far, although I'm noticing that I'm having more chronic fatigue/adrenal 'symptoms' today, so need to watch out. I've definitely had to pack all my own food and, since I'm trying to get more protein in and since I really need to feel better for this, it's a challenge with these packed days. I'm just so grateful that this is in our home town and that I can fix stuff at home for myself, and I am trying! More on that in another post maybe but I should get back to the writing group that I'm in right now!

But oh my, this really point some directions for life. Lots to think about.

A Minor Epiphany and A Book Review

I'm sitting in the lounge at the Land's End Hotel, at the end of the spit in Homer, which is 'the end of the road,' the location of the Kachemak Bay Writers' Conference. I'm registered, have my tote bag and name tag, and ended up signed up in the first slot for the open mike to read some poetry! Excited, nervous, anticipatory.

The Naturopath reiterated yesterday that I need to eat more, and specifically more protein, and that a lot of the residual symptoms I'm experiencing will improve if I do. So, my minor epiphany (helped, I'm sure, by the fact that I've been writing (poetry) this week, which always makes life feel better): if eating more will make me feel better, isn't it worth a try?!?! There is such a strong equation between raw-foodism and asceticism, and it's so easy for me to slip back into 'scarcity mode,' but really, what's not to like about feeling better? I don't want to go into too much detail on this because I want to get on to the book review, but another helpful comment from the Naturopath was that the nausea that I frequently experience after eating, and that encourages me to always eat less, is very possibly a 'habitual' response from my body, who has become used to associating food with ill feeling. So, if I can actively work against the nausea, maybe the food can actually do some good!

OK - without further ado, the first of two book reviews that I want to share this week.

On David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas 

This 529-page novel is a little hard to get into, but it blew me away! And I wouldn't call myself an easy grader as a reader. It's the best novel by some way that I've read in a long while, and I've been reading some really good ones just recently.

Like other Postmodern novelists such as Haruki Murakami and David Foster Wallace, Mitchell's style is intensely virtuosic, multifarious, speaking in many tongues, vocalizing many voices, accents, idioms. Like those others, he exploits strange and tenuous connections as focalizing points that link different parts of the story together, and makes bizarre and abrupt changes of scene with a mere spandrel of connection between them.

But unlike them, he writes as if there is a deep, underlying message, as if he cares about communicating that message, as if it really matters to him. I often come away from Postmodern novels dazzled by the brilliance, awed by the virtuosity, but thinking 'So what? What happened and what was the point?' (and I do understand that often that is precisely the point.) Reading Cloud Atlas, I experienced all the dazzle and the awe, but also a deep impression that I was receiving something significant that would stay with me a long time, almost to the level of something like Ursula LeGuin's The Dispossessed.

I mentioned that it's a little hard to get into. This is because of the ring-composition or 'Russian Doll' structure of the composition. The novel consists of six novellas, each set in vastly different places, times and genres, from the 19th century South Seas to a post-apocalyptic Hawaii via 1930's Belgium, the West Coast of the USA in the 1970's, present-day England and near-future Korea. Genres are journal, letters, thriller, film/memoir, interview, oral storytelling. The first five novellas segue into one another without warning (the first gives way to the second in the middle of a sentence, for example) and we then get the second half of each of these in reverse order after the central novella. (Might be interesting to go back and read each novella beginning to end.) Each novella is referred to in its successor, so that each of them is a real world within itself that is later reduced to a work of fiction: fascinating self-referentiality. The 'Russian Doll' structure is also frequently referenced in subliminal moments, as well as the number six as the dominant feature in the weave.

This all means that Mitchell - and we - are dealing with six different sets of characters, six different genres, six different scenarios, six different dialects/language uses, even. Where there are moments of stereotyping and pastiche of course, I find myself able to forgive it readily: with such sharp contrasts at work, it's sometimes good to write it large. And whilst the poignant beauty of expression and the enormity of the deeper meaning sometimes brought tears to my eyes, I also cried with laughter at the masterfully overdone tale of woe at the hands of British Rail in the fourth novella.

Some small concerns: there is free use of quotations in languages other than English, and the whole of the sixth novella is written in a created post-apocalyptic version of Hawaiian pidgin, with apostrophes everywhere for elided and omitted sounds: very busy on the page, which makes it hard to read and maybe hard for someone who isn't a linguist to follow. I'll put my cards on the table: I love all of this: for me, it's an enrichment, it makes me engage more deeply with the text. But, I'm a linguist and multilingual enough to be able to understand the quotations in other European languages at least (I don't remember any Korean-language quotations, but if the characters' names had deeper meanings that would have gone over my head). And I know that that particular element of the virtuosity, the bewilderingly adept code-switching and the quotations, might be alienating for some. 

I guess he has an audience in mind and that's who he targets.  It's definitely me. You too?

I am so grateful to have read this, because of the double inspiration I received from it. First, I'm inspired by the beauty and virtuosity of the writing. Second, and perhaps more important, I'm inspired by the depth of the message conveyed through the storytelling: the care for life and its unfoldings. It gives me the hope that I may be able to do something like that with my writings too.

Anyone else read this? I recommend it so highly. For something completely different, I devoured his next novel, 'Black Swan Green,' in a single evening. It is totally different, being told through one single perspective, that of a 13-year old boy in small-town west England. But delightfully enough, several characters from Cloud Atlas are encountered in the course of the story, at very different stages of their lives from those in which they appear in it.

Here are some links I have found online about David Mitchell:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Mitchell_(author)

http://www.contemporarywriters.com/authors/?p=auth03A30M451712634910

http://www.threemonkeysonline.com/als/_david_mitchell_cloud_atlas_interview.html

http://network.nationalpost.com/np/blogs/afterword/archive/2009/08/01/q-amp-a-with-david-mitchell-author-of-cloud-atlas.aspx

Why Blog?

I think everyone whose blog I read has wondered why they do it at some point, triggered by an insensitive comment, harassed by time pressures, or just feeling like it's gotten 'old.' Presumably it's a good idea to periodically re-evaluate the worth of anything that we put a lot of time into. I am really trying to do my best, both with writing this blog and with life in general, and between a hurtful comment from a friend, my husband's skepticism of the value of blogging, and my own feeling of being overwhelmed with things to do, it's a good time to ask this question. My initial reaction to the hurtful comment and to my husband's skepticism, I'm afraid, has been annoyance and digging my heels in. 'I want to write my blog and you're not going to stop me' -style childish defiance. So, in the interests of 'doing better,' here are some thoughts about 'why' that are hopefully more mature than that.

First of all, I write because I need to write. Half the time, I don't really know what I'm thinking or feeling until I've been writing about it. Often, when everything feels crazy, if I sit down and do some creative writing, work on some poems, or even just journal, it takes me into a much happier and saner place. It also allows me to like myself more, which motivates me to take better care of myself. In other words, I love to write. This also answers my husband's question of this morning, of why I write 'morning pages' quasi-religiously every morning.

But there is more, of course. I want to share of myself, through my words: to give friends, loved ones, family, and anyone else who might be interested (who is probably just a more distant or yet-to-be-discovered friend or loved-one or family) a window into this fascinating, crazy life and world that I experience, and to open myself to the opportunity to learn from and share and connect with them in return. Having moved around so much, I have so many dear friends and family members all over the place, with whom I want to share. Since writing is my preferred mode of sharing, isn't this a good way to do it?

One of my husband's main complaints about the blog is that it isn't face-to-face connection with 'real' people. He seems to think that you have to be 'into blogging' in order even to think about going to read someone's blog, negating the possibility that our friends or family might just go look up my blog and see what we've been up to lately. And the hurtful comment I received kind of supports that. I had emailed a friend a month ago, briefly mentioned that I'd been in an accident (the truck/blizzard accident when I was driving the bees down here at the end of April), and also mentioned that I'd written about it in detail in my blog, which they know about. After a while, I got an email back saying 'don't expect me to be keeping up with your life through your blog.' I found this hurtful because I wasn't expecting anything, just letting them know that if they were curious what had happened, I had written about it here. I have so little time online and want to share to the max. Maybe I am being oversensitive, but I felt a subtle accusation of narcissism underscoring the fact that something I was offering was being thrown back in my face. 

Of course, I agree with Phil that making friends here and connecting with real people up here is a good idea. And I am making some efforts to do that, and am also hoping that having my online home here  might facilitate that by giving people another handle on me. This recent rejection of that has given me some second thoughts. 

And then, there's the whole food thing. There aren't many people who live here who are into living foods - hardly any, in fact. And I love this mode of sharing. Whilst I no longer think at all, like I did for a few years a long time ago, that I can only really relate to people who are raw foodists (witness the fact that I'm married to someone who isn't!) I do think that people who are drawn to that tend to have many other things in common also, and I really enjoy being able to immerse myself in that vibe. 

Since, unfortunately, I've been unable to convince Phil as yet that the raw food milieu is a separate issue from residual eating disorder issues and is a vibrant and healthy way of being, it's not likely that this reason for blogging would be very convincing to him. But for me, it's still a good reason.

Now, I don't want to spend too much time on my blog on posts like this! I don't want to be self-reflexive, self obsessed, narcissistic, maudlin or self-pitying. Or redundant! What I do want is to take a sober look at why I do what I do, make sure that it is serving the highest good, and re-evaluate if it isn't. I know that oftentimes I'm too invested in whatever it is that I'm doing to be truly objective about it. But if I feel like I love to do something and that it's serving, is it wrong to continue with it? A serious question - and if you see any chinks in my assumed objectivity and want to point them out, I'd be most grateful for that also.

Feeling Lucky/Creating Our Reality

This is going to be a short and impromptu post because we're driving back home today and I probably won't get online again until tomorrow.

I want to explore the idea of 'getting messages from the universe' and creating our reality.  When I logged on yesterday, I learned that I had been one of the winners of a 'Vega' shake-n-go protein powder sample from Averie's 'Love Veggies and Yoga' blog. This was a really powerful message for me for two reasons. First, I haven't tended to think of myself as lucky, and usually haven't entered giveaways, etc, because I've had no faith that I'd win. In this case, I dared myself to participate because I also wanted to support what Averie does with her blog, and really was interested in the product also. These additional reasons and just making the effort to participate seem to have rewarded me with the experience of feeling that I can be lucky sometimes too! Second, as I said, I admire Averie's energy, upbeat positivity, no-nonsense attitude, clarity, and many other attributes so much. Whilst I recognize that we are very different people, there are so many things that I see in her that I feel I should cultivate in myself. So, a great transfer of energy, and at a good time also.

How much of this is just serendipity, and how much of it is a sign from the universe helping me to create my reality for my highest good, which is also the good of all? I have been musing on this back and forth for some time - even one of the poems I posted a couple of weeks ago is about just that thing - and it's a constant question. (And what is the message of the fact that the internet in this cafe seems to be sketchy - I may not even get to post this before I have to leave?!)

I really want to believe that I can create my own reality in my highest good, for the good of all, but I recognize that I also fear the responsibility that entails, especially considering all the ill that I have wished myself and given myself when I have been depressed. What an amazing responsibility, to invite what is good into our lives, and also to swear off the negativity and ill-wishing, recognizing that it is truly damaging. I don't believe 'sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me:' I think I've been more hurt by words than by any painful accident or all the painful digestive troubles, both words from others and words to myself. Why would I keep choosing that? It takes time to break a habit, even a horrible one, but looking at it this way helps to motivate me to break it.

The View From Here/Up For This Week

The View From Here

We're in Anchorage again for appointments and shopping and visiting with friends. Hoping to get a little more light shed on Phil's continuingly recurrent and debilitating vertigo problem. Maybe trying to help sort my crazy head out a bit too. 

This disorientingly sudden summer means it's snowing apple blossoms up here in Anchorage, dandelion flowers are everywhere and all the birds are fighting either to mate with one another or eat one another's young ahead of the game. The whole of the vertebrate kingdom, we are acting like a bunch of superheated insects, moving faster faster faster quick get everything done before it starts freezing again in two or three months! Our allies the plants are acting just the same, and since up here in Anchorage it gets both hotter and colder than it does down in Homer, the 'window of movement' is even smaller and perhaps it isn't surprising that everything is a little farther along here than back at home. Flowers are more 'out,' mallard ducklings barely ducklings anymore, cabbages and parsleys full size rather than just having their first pair of true leaves like the ones in our raised beds at home. 

But it is quite glorious. Sunshine, over 60 degrees, and even approaching 70 yesterday evening - and with the sun out and bright, these relatively cool temperatures are all warmer than they would be in the SF Bay Area where I used to live, for example. Another strange thing is how late in the day it gets truly warm. 6 or 7pm is often the true 'high noon.' Circadian rhythms what? And yet I seem to be very attached to my circadian rhythms and to stick to them anyway. I'm wondering if it's a detriment to spontaneity that I'm seeming to need such rhythm in my life. I don't feel well when the schedule is chaotic, I can't eat a whole load of food 'up front' so that I won't need to for hours after, like some people do, nor can I eat super early or super late to compensate for missed mealtimes. I feel somewhat of a failure, or at least a misfit, for that: people who really thrive up here often seem to have more of that flexibility. At least I can say I've tried.

Up For This Week

The produce from the Lower 48, which Alaskans call 'Outside,' is that bit fresher up here in the big town. Fred Meyer was fragrant  with peaches today - I insisted that Phil should have one. And I bought a jicama that turns out to be so sweet it's almost candy! Sweet, juicy, crunchy, fresh... Jicama is wonderful - I almost can't believe that it is so low in calories and carbs. The bigger ones are always better: smaller usually means picked too early, woody, less juicy. 

Well, aside from waxing lyrical about a leguminous tuber from Mexico that I never saw on the continent on which I grew up, and which some folks in Hawaii chose not to grow because they deemed it too low-caloric to be worth the effort (now, there's a thought!) - this week I'm getting in gear for the Kachemak Bay Writers' Conference. It'll last Friday 11th through Tues 15th. My first writing conference, and I'm so excited and also somewhat apprehensive. I really hope to meet some potential mentors and friends, and I'm really apprehensive about it being cliquey and closed-up, and of being too shy myself, or too dorky, or too passionate about obscure rhyming schemes, or too trendy in my attire. We have hit the thrift shops here in town, though, and in addition to my usual black pants, black turtlenecks, black hoodies, Phil persuaded me to get a very cute squashy billed cap with a checkered pattern in colors I wouldn't normally have chosen, but which puts some color in with the black and which he says makes me look very cute! 

So another of the main 'up for this week's' is contemplating the possibility of being 'cute,' paying attention to my appearance and recognizing that first impressions are important when you meet people. Can you believe I'm 33 and only just starting to figure this out? Dirty hippy girl… It seems like most girls whose blogs I read are professionals at all of this: is anyone else clueless like me, or got clued up really late on? Aside from when performing in plays a few times, I've only worn make up four or five times in my life. Never had my nails done. Been to a hairdresser maybe five times ever. Anyone else like this?

This week I'm also intending to finally buy a camera - can take a pic of that hat and some other things too - all the wonderful, galloping plant life…

As the writers' conference looms, I'm going to post a couple of (non-food-related) book reviews this week, books I've recently read that have had a positive impact on me: one, because it talks about why it's not a good idea to be hopeless and check out of life, and the other, because of its sheer artistic genius. Not words I use lightly.

My appeal to the collective consciousness/mind/brain trust is for advice on how to 'get moving.' Even allowing for my low energy levels, it is taking me forever to get things done at the moment. Important phone calls are not getting made. Incubating poems become phantom pregnancies through neglect. Seeds get planted days later than I intended to do it. The only person who would call me lazy is myself, and only when I'm being unfair. And yet I can't seem to get stuff done. Advice? A bigger question, that I'll address more in one of the book reviews, is how to figure out what our life's purpose is. Is there a still, small voice that you hear? Or is it all just a rat race?