Blog Retool

So, I've been thinking for awhile about retooling my blog. I don't blog anymore, and it's because I'm busy and because the scope of my blog is so limited. I don't want to stay the Angry Grammarian. First of all, I'm rarely angry, except when I order a veggie sub at Subway and they don't put on lots of vegetables. Seriously!? That's ALL I want on it! Put more!

Secondly, I guess I started this blog to write about stuff that's going on in my life as a writer. I still want to write about those things, but there are so many other aspects of my life I feel like I want to talk about. I used to write in an online diary all the time when I was in junior high and high school. Actually, I still have a locked Diaryland account, and sometimes I go in and post secrets or thoughts I'm too embarrassed to share anywhere else. I'll never tell.

What I'm trying to say is, I'm bringing my blog back. But I want to write about poems and salads and long Octobers and movies and maybe I had a really satisfying sandwich for lunch. I want to write about that. I want to write because I want to, and not just because I'm having a poem published in an important magazine, or somebody reviewed my chapbook and didn't like it.

Blog retool, ENGAGE.

In some other actual-writer related news, I recently did a poetry reading with three other fantastic poets: Molly Sutton Kiefer, Katie Rauk, and Meryl DePasquale. Doing poetry readings is like, my first love. I don't think there's anything I enjoy doing more than attending readings and participating in readings. Especially when I'm doing a poetry reading, it feels like I'm standing inside a pot of gold coins. Which is to say, I just love it, and I want to do more of it.

If you have never been to Subtext books in Saint Paul, go check it out, as it's the only place in the world that my chapbook is still available for sale. Unless they're sold out, in which case yes, I am sending you on a wild goose chase. But not a real wild goose chase. That would scare the dickens out of anyone.

Sending out 2012

Bless me, followers, for I have sinned. It's it's been five months since my last post.

It has been a hard year, friends. And a lot has changed since July 8th, when I was complaining about moving to Saint Paul. We have since settled into our small apartment in a beautiful section of the city. And when I say "settled in" of course I mean that our books are continuously scattered everywhere, and we have broken many kitchen glasses accidentally.

I do so love living in Saint Paul. I have a writing group that meets every few weeks or so, and sometimes I even do the writing assignments we come up with at the end of our time together. Which is not to say I have been writing a lot--I haven't been.

In fact, one of my goals for the year was to write 250 poems, and I'll be lucky if I close in on 100 poems for the year by the end of December, which is just a little more than a week away. I had several other goals for the year, involving my running a half marathon (nope), getting into at least one top-tier journal (nope), and putting together another chapbook (nope). But just because I didn't meet these goals doesn't mean that I wasted my year, I think.

I have spent a good deal of the last month or two really focusing on myself. I joined a magical yoga studio and started noticing muscles in my body I didn't know I had. I have been breathing through stress, and I finally feel like I am rewarding my body instead of just punishing it for eating too many cookies. I have also been thinking a lot about the people I'm blessed to call friends and family. Sometimes we learn too late to tell people every day that we love them.

Christmas is coming up, and New Years, and I know I don't own the monopoly on advice-giving, but this is the only piece I have: be good to each other. Be good to strangers. Tell and show people that you love them. The end of the year always gets me a little reflective, and I apologize for not being funny in this post. But sometimes I have to just allow myself to be honest, and this is what I have been thinking about for the past few months.

Be good to yourself. Be good to each other.

Summer Post

The summer has been a lazy, crazy time so far.

My husband and I are getting ready to move to St. Paul in a few weeks, and our living room is full of boxes that contain mostly books. Packing up books is sort of like playing an enormous game of Tetris, which is the only thing that makes moving fun. But we are looking forward to living in an area where you can use the term "bustling" unironically.

Aside from packing, I've been spending most of my time away from the internet. Because of the nature of our poorness, we have chosen to go without the internet for the summer, which has proved both a challenge and a blessing. It is true, I can no longer waste entire days (weeks?) watching episode after episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the X-Files on Netflix instant stream, but I have been reading a lot and writing a lot of letters. It's nice to get something real in the mail every once in a while.

In a couple weeks I'll also be leaving for Mallard Island, where I'll spend a week with other writers doing writerly things. So if I don't update again until after we move, all this! is why. 

About a week ago, the July issue of THRUSH came out, which I'm totally delighted to be included in. In another few days, the summer issue of Sixth Finch will be released, and I'll have three poems up there. So many bird journals!

That's about it for now, besides this picture of an old lady. Stop complaining about how hot it is. Have a great summer!

YOU CAN'T MAKE ME WRITE A BLOG

YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!

DOG ON A BIKE DOG ON A BIKE DOG ON A BIKE.

Gonna go write a poem now. Go away.

Feet People

On Wednesday, I got hit by a car while I was running through a crosswalk with a stop sign at it. I guess a more appropriate term is that I was nudged by a car, since I am not in any way injured. I don't even have a bruise. Luckily, the bad driver saw me just in time and slammed on her brakes. People in this town hate pedestrians. Or, as my husband and I call ourselves, feet people. I don't know Latin, but I like to pretend that I do. Ped, meaning feet. Estrian, meaning people.

Anyway, I'm very glad to say that we're moving this summer to St. Paul, a town where feet people are probably more widely accepted. A place where people are less likely to yell "Drive a damn car!" at you from the windows of their crappy pickup trucks.

In addition to the big moving news, there is other news! Issue 5 of TRNSFR magazine is now available to purchase, where I'm happy to keep company with such wonderful writers as Russ Woods, J.A. Tyler, James Tadd Adcox, and Hazel Foster, whose piece you can read for free on the TRNSFR site.

I also have a few poems in the April issue of elimae, and a poem that went up in the February issue of Midway Journal.

I know it's not new news, but I'm still getting rejections like crazy. Since September 1st, I've received almost forty. But I have a bunch of pending submissions, which will either blossom into tiny little butterflies of acceptances, or rot in their submishmashable graves, with a little red "Declined" staring me dead in the face. Each one is like a little wish.

Happy weekend!

I Have a Book and You Don't (Or Maybe You Do)

My husband wrote the title of this blog post for me.

Anyway, the first part is true: I have a book. It's a beautiful little thing, and you can hold it with your real American hands! Or your hands of other nationalities, if you're willing to pay for international shipping.

My twenty-sixth birthday has come and gone, and I am no longer halfway between twenty and thirty. I am getting further and further away from twenty-one, and have fewer opportunities to blame my indiscretions on being young, in college, everything that goes with being in college, etc.

Now I just have to blame them on the truth: I'm an idiot most of the time.

The book is no indiscretion, though. I did this on purpose. And I don't think it sucks. If you have five bucks, you can read it for yourself and decide.

LOVE STORIES HATE STORIES

When I was in high school I called Valentine's Day "Fake Crappy Love Day." I have no comments to make about that, I just remembered that today.

I co-authored an e-chapbook called LOVE STORIES HATE STORIES, which is available for free today at NAP. You can go read it. I wrote the Hate Stories poems, except for one. And Russ Woods wrote the Love Stories poems, except for one. I'll give you a clue about which Love Stories poem I wrote: it has to do with Abe Lincoln. How is nobody surprised?

Anyway, go read Russ's Love Stories and my Hate Stories, for whatever mood you're in today. And since it's valentine's day, remember to do something with candy today. As if I need an excuse to eat candy all day. Pshaw! I most certainly do not. But I'll take it.