Getting close

I heard from my publisher that he has a copy of my book. I will see it tomorrow. I'm excited … and scared. I don't know quite what I'm scared for or of, but I'm scared.

But you know, I want to be done with this. After I get back from Paris, I'm going to start re-working Book Next. I don't have to call it Book Next, because I have a title: Hue and Cry.

Rilke pep talk

Will get around (soon) to posting about my trip to LA and any news about upcoming readings. But in the meantime … the following advice from Rilke was posted on Facebook by the awesome Cheryl Strayed. I think I needed to read this right now. And maybe often.



Your work needs to be independent of others' work.
You must not compare yourself to others.
No one can help you. You have to help yourself.
Criticism leads to misunderstandings and defeatism.
Work from necessity and your compulsion to do it.
Work on what you know and what you are sure you love.
Don't observe yourself too closely, just let it happen.
Don't let yourself be controlled by too much irony.
Live in and love the activity of your work.
Be free of thoughts of sin, guilt and misgiving.
Be touched by the beautiful anxiety of life.
Be patient with the unresolved in your heart.
Try to be in love with the questions themselves.
Love your solitude and try to sing with its pain.
Be gentle to all of those who stay behind.
Your inner self is worth your entire concentration.
Allow your art to make extraordinary demands on you.
Bear your sadness with greater trust than your joy.
Do not persecute yourself with how things are going.
It's good to be solitary, because solitude is difficult.
It's good to love, because love is difficult.
You are not a prisoner of anything or anyone.

—Rilke

Postcards: ✓

I'm not exactly sure of the logic behind it, but I had postcards printed. Front has a picture of the book cover, back has part of one blurb and ordering info for bookstores. Since this is a piece of paper, a hard copy, and will be a leave-behind for bookstores, I did not put much in the way of online ordering (except for my publisher's website and this blog and my email). Tomorrow, I hope to leave a stack in local independent bookstores and, if the appropriate people are approachable, try and get a reading here and there. I don't think it will be easy, but if you have a better way, let me know!

Some small progress

Yessirree, we're getting there. Just seventeen days to official publication, and I'm finally getting some momentum. Today I sent my publisher a corrected proof with only two tiny annoying not-really-errors (which I almost decided to skip, but then changed my mind). I'm sure there will be other errors I don't find. That's the way it is when humans do things.

But I've made my Facebook page. And a postcard with ordering information will be ready for me to pick up on Friday. Starting Saturday, I'm visiting Bay Area bookstores in hopes of lining up readings or at least finding out whom to talk to about such. I'm flying down to L.A. next week (got a $85 round trip — including taxes — flight). My sister has offered to shuttle me to bookstores there for the same purpose.

John and I are discussing a book launch party in a local coffeehouse. I admit I didn't want to have to do this; I wanted it to just happen. But this book hasn't been like that. It needs me to make things happen.

In other news: we've rescheduled the trip to Paris that the volcano cancelled. We're taking off May 26 now, though the question of who will mind the dog is not yet answered. Hard to concentrate on Paris when I'm launching the book. Hard to launch the book when I want to put energy toward being ready for Paris. But somehow it will all come together.

Coming soon …

Time for a new post

… though I can't say I have much poetry news. I've been consoling myself over not having gone to AWP with the thought that we're going to Paris. Yes, indeedy, and we leave in three days. I'm totally freaking, though. Even though I've shopped 'till I dropped, arranged for a dogsitter, contacted my bank, learned how to turn off data on my iPhone, downloaded podcasts (and even Kindle for the Mac), and been practicing my French for months, I'm still freaking. I think I'm nervous that it won't turn out to be every little thing I want it to be. I'm worried that the four pair of shoes I'm taking for 10 days won't be the right shoes. I'm not even allowing myself to think of the money we're spending. We're going to Paris! I won't say how long it's been since I've gone to Paris, but let's just say that last time I went to Paris, my parents were paying!

Meantime, I'm awaiting the imminent publication of my book. Well, if not imminent, forthcoming. Only one reading locked in so far, and that's in September (Pegasus Books, Berkeley, 9/18, mes fans). Still waiting to hear from a few others, but I haven't really gotten out there asking. In May, I will be going down to L.A. and touring the bookstores with my sister. I hope to have, if not the book, by then, or a review copy, at least a postcard with ISBN and release date. I need to make an attempt to visit the Seattle/Portland areas. And then there's NYC. I'd like to arrange readings at any friendly bookstores in NYC around October 8 and maybe a few readings in Boston before or after that. Leads, clues, warnings, advice — all welcome.

No Foolin'

It's been two months since I was laid off, and I have not gotten very far. The blog is still rudimentary, the thoughts in my head about how to proceed with it and with debuting my book are still hazy. Sure, I've had a rather momentous birthday, and we've been getting ready to go away (later this month). But why is it so hard to organize my thoughts? Perhaps I'm used to working on deadline, and my publisher (whose computer died, last month, among other things) has yet to give me any real date for when I'll see my book. I'm working on a new computer too. And I'm sure there are other psychological reasons why the actuality of my book eludes me.

Well, I've seen the third proof today and will send it back to my publisher tomorrow. I'd like to get a mockup of my cover, the ISBN, and a date, and I'll make a postcard up to send to anyone I've ever met — and maybe a few people I haven't met.

Meanwhile, anyone who has any tips on how to customize this blog, let me know. Right now I'm wishing I left well enough alone.

Blackbird = Phoenix?

Perhaps that post title is a tad grandiose? Yet I have spring/renewal/rebirth or at least getting over this cold on my mind. I haven't been outside in two days and outside still seems a very far place to go. Yet, I'm a gonna make it, as the old widow at the bottom of the hill says every time I ask how's she doing. She's got her cataracts removed and a wig on her head, and it doesn't really matter how old she actually is.

Today I bought Bento, a database application to use with my new MacBook. My version of Filemaker Pro (5.5!) wasn't working very well with Snow Leopard, spinning beachballs with the slightest change and crashing without warning. I've imported all my old po biz submission data (support wasn't very helpful, butI figured it out), and I'm very happy with it.

I'm planning to create a database for marketing the new book. I'll put all the contacts people give me in there. (Call X in Y city at Z bookstore) and hopefully schedule reading events. I can import contacts to send out email reminders too.

Going Solo

When I started this blog (back in '05?), my idea was to have a shared podium for members of the poetry group 13 Ways. For a while, I was joined here by Robert Thomas, very occasionally by others in the group. But neither Robert nor anyone else is really interested in keeping this going. I'm not sure how much I'm interested in keeping it going. Like many others, I've found the drive-by posts on Facebook to be more than enough.

Recently, Blogger had me migrate my site so that I no longer publish it through FTP with the website 13 Ways. And so it seems a good time to make a break from the past. (Or as good a time as any.) I'm going to make this a solo blog, for now, on the subject of poetry and being a poet in the world and whatever else comes up. (The website www.13ways.org, which I mean to entirely revamp as well, will continue to be about the group and the individual poets in it.)

So we'll see. I hope you will come here and comment and make this a conversation, or it's going to get very quiet. As I said recently, I'd like to collect some good ideas for marketing poetry books, as a start. ( I will attempt to be a better conversationalist too.)

That's enough for now, intent and direction. I think I'm coming down with something, so that's as ambitious as I want to be at the moment. Will turn in and read some of the 22 books beside my bed.

This blog has moved

This blog is now located at http://dianekmartin.blogspot.com/.
You will be automatically redirected in 30 seconds, or you may click here.

For feed subscribers, please update your feed subscriptions to
http://13ways.org/blog/atom.xml.

Now what?

It's a long time since I've posted, though I'm not much convinced that anyone cares. Nevertheless, I have plenty of time now that I'm unemployed, so methinks I will get back into the habit.

I'd like to start a discussion about marketing one's poetry books in this age of small presses and Print on Demand (POD). I've been researching the issue and welcome your first-person experiences.

No one is under the illusion that the publication of a book of poetry is going to result in fame, fortune, best-sellerdom, or even a ripple in the zeitgeist. Nevertheless, making some personal effort to stir the waters is bound to be better than nothing, as far as getting the book out there. And we all want the book out there, don't we?

Sure, this post and any comments that ensue will be self-serving, as my book, Conjugated Visits, will be out soon. But there's no reason why what I learn can't also serve you. In a sense, we're all in this together.

My newest news

Yesterday, I was notified that I won a prize. It's the 9th annual Erskine J. Poetry Prize from Smartish Pace. I get $200 along with publication of my poem.

Yeah, it's only $200 (and the funny part is, I can't even remember entering this competition—I'm not exactly spending money these days; I can't) but it's very nice. It's especially meaningful because, as some of you know, I won second prize at the Nimrod and National Writers Union, been finalist at Discovery/Nation and numerous manuscript competitions, including the National Poetry Series, but I've never actually won anything — unless you count first prize for fifth-grade girls in the Yonkers science fair. So, yay me!

Other than that, well, I had plenty to say until now, but I can't remember what was so important. John is out at some Opera Guild cocktail party or some such thing but will be back soon. I am thawing out from my walk with the dog (okay, it was actually 52°, but I'm sensitive to cold) with a large glass of Charles Shaw cabernet. There are sweet potatoes roasting in the kitchen.

A Rationale

I needed to provide a writing sample today for a possible job. Boy do I hate that, having to prove myself. Well, I came across this, and I like it. I needed to update it, but I thought I would post it here. It concerns my book that is due to be published this spring with Dream Horse Press.


Conjugated Visits is a book of poems that, for the most part, is concerned with passion and point of view, with relationships that sometimes work and sometimes do not, between partners, among family members, among strangers, in a world that is not always face forward and can’t be taken at face value.

I group poems that seem to belong together. Although this statement is a “rationale,” it’s not always a rational thing; sometimes it’s intuitive. Sometimes the poems in a group have similar themes or ideas, are involved in one or another of my preoccupations. Sometimes they share mood or attitude. On the other hand, sometimes they work to contrast with others or another, a palate refresher, so to speak.

I’m aware that one is supposed to start out strong and end with a bang. I’m not sure of my bang ending. I put what you might call my Yonkers poems in the middle because I’m trying to work against the cliché of chronology.

Conjugated Visits

Conjugated Visits (the section) begins with “Conjugated Visits” because I think this poem sets up the first section and the book well. This poem goes from I to you to she to he to they and then broadens out, and I think that sets up a workable strategy. It’s a strong poem that was published in both Field and on Poetry Daily.

The second poem in this section (“Sonhar”) takes the “I” a bit further. (I’d like to state at this point that all “I” poems in the manuscript and, indeed, all poems that seem personal are fictional, not autobiographical. They may partake of personal experience, but move beyond those experiences, I hope, and are true to the experience of the poem, not to “what actually happened.”)

The next poem in the first section is “Demimonde,” and I like a lot about it although I�Proxy-Connection: keep-alive
Cache-Control: max-age=0

9m not sure that it was ever 100 percent successful. It sets up a story about a fictional world from the poet’s point of view, and it’s supposed to sound very “noir.” This was the title poem of the manuscript for years, but I no longer think it works as a title. Still, the relationship implied in the poem — or the possibility of the connection between the woman and the man in the poem together with the weather connection, well, I think that follows well from the poems that precede it.

Darkness Visible

Darkness Visible is a section of very dark days and includes “Was You Ever Bit By A Dead Bee,” the pet quip of the Walter Brennan drunk character in To Have or Have Not. The section ends with the poem, “Darkness Visible,” whose title comes from Milton and which addresses Johnny Cash.

ShBoom

In the ShBoom section, which I think of as sort of “pop,” we segue into the “Lorraine Asks” poem, which, in the guise of a casual discussion, brings up “the one thing they will hold over you.” In Orwell’s 1984, Big Brother knew the one thing that you feared most. I think loving is by far more dangerous — outright scary — than being loved. You are just never the same after opening yourself up to loving in this way.

The next poem, the title poem of this section is “ShBoom.” It’s kind of a memory piece, an imagistic poem about summer in Yonkers, just a picture of the way it was. The song “Life Could be a Dream,” was both a pop song and something my mother used to say, in regard to how fast life passes. The sounds, my sister’s naked dancing, the fireflies, the women doing dishes at night, the piccolo (I used to play) — are all very dreamlike.

The next one, “Back in Yonkers,” is also dreamlike, but pretty graphic. It’s meant to be more than a confession. It’s meant to restate that you can’t go home again, and if you do, you’re not the same person who left. It’s also meant to show what Yonkers was like during a certain era. It’s written in Yonkers-speak.

Another poem in this section is “Gal Friday.” Much of this section is involved with old ideas about what it meant to be a woman. This poem hearkens back to the time when classified ads in newspapers were divided into positions for men and jobs for women. A Gal Friday was the name of the job whose responsibilities included doing whatever was necessary to please the (male) management. Both acquiescing and refusing were equally demoralizing.

Bequest

The ten poems of Bequest are all about death. It’s hard to explain why I think poems about death belong in a book about relationships — maybe because we all have to deal with it some day — and not just our own death, but our loved ones’ deaths too.

Hue and Cry

The final section is both more “political” — though I’m not sure what I mean by that — and less logically or narratively inclined, so more experimental. “Five Days on Twenty” is about working on the 20th floor of an office building in Oakland, but the speaker, rather than being removed from the surrounding environment, is overly affected by that environment. Maybe she is on her way to a breakdown.

For “Hue and Cry,” I borrowed the beginnings of lines from a poem I encountered in APR. I just wanted to do what I could, sacrificing semantics to syntax, although I love the meanings that happened as I continued. I really enjoyed the variations-on-a-theme aspect of this — both the writing and the result.

The poem that follows is “Night Vision.” It’s a rebellion against high tech, not really any specific person or product, more a rejection of the idea that the next new thing is going to perfect us. It’s somewhat antagonistic toward a male vision of things, I suppose. In many ways, it is sound driven. This could be considered a bad thing by some.

The penultimate poem in the book is “Fraught With Danger.” The image this poem begins with is conception. This poem is about entropy, about things falling apart.

The last poem in the book is “As It Never Was,” which comes from a dream I had about living in the rhythms of the seasons, in a more traditional way of life. It feels like an ending.

Update on update

Congratulations to me! Today's my 33rd wedding anniversary, as I've plastered all over Facebook. Well, maybe I'm overdoing it, but whoever heard of anyone being married this long! :]

I'm working full time down at NASA Ames until the third week of October, then going half time. Though we almost left The City in terror (on the theory that it's cheaper to live anywhere but here), we're going to stick it out after all, cutting back on EVERYTHING. Truth is, I'm almost looking forward to my new schedule. I will only have to drive down to Moffett Field two days a week! Woohoo!

'Course it will be great if some contract work happens (especially telecommuting). My resumé has been well received, but who's hiring? But won't it be great to have more writing time? I need a lot of time by myself to write. Though I can scribble bits and pieces on the go, I need to be not distracted to make something of it, and lately, I'm just exhausted.

So we'll see.
---------------------
Also, I love fall, its negative capabilities, the putting away of light things. Besides, the weather is spectacular: crystalline days, luminous nights. If you (whoever, wherever you are), ever plan to visit Northern California, by golly, now is the time to do it!

Big Decisions

I don't know what to do. Should we, in the space of a month, sell our house, move an hour north to a tiny but cute place in Sonoma County? I'm not kidding. My job is going to (maybe) 50%, and John's work is here and there, dribs and drabs. In order to retain that 50% and the (very expensive) health care that comes with it, I will have to commute an extra hour and a quarter. This will only be two days a week, for now, but I don't know how long now will be. And if work expands? How would I deal with a three day commute schedule of that nature?

I'm trying to get other work, of course. I get very positive responses to my resumé.

We could delay the decision, but the pristine little cottage could go. And October is the prime month to sell a house in San Francisco. We have lived in our house almost 21 years.

Any thoughts? My dear sweet friend and manager says not to do anything hasty, and I promised her I wouldn't. But then, I don't know.

A drag

It's always an exercise in some sort of faith to write here. I imagine it's like praying for those who pray, the need to believe that there is something out there. Partly that's the reason I write here so rarely. Also because this was supposed to be a team blog, for the poetry group, and it's so obviously not. So on top of wondering if anyone is actually reading this, I feel guilty that what they (you) are reading is just about me.

But the truth is, I'm pretty scared. My job is being cut back to 50%, even though they love me there. Work comes in dribs and drabs for John. Of course things could change. We're scrambling. I don't want to be one of those sad woe-is-me stories. I want to be a happy ending.

Not Business as Usual

Looks like life is throwing me another curve. Probably, in a little more than a month, I will have 25% of my job. That's all the money they're allotting for overhead in the Division, and writing and editing are overhead. I know it's not personal — I do my job really well, and everyone seems to like me — and need me. They just don't want to pay for it!

We have already downsized at home, closed the studio. But now the Healthcare discussion becomes personal. John is self-employed. How will we pay for health insurance? COBRA is expensive!

I can't really wrap my head around this yet. I'm still hoping for miracles. If you've got any great ideas, let me know.
_____________________________
UPDATE
Probably will not have 25% of a job, whatever that is. Probably will have all (less likely) or none (more likely). No one really believes this, let alone me. Everyone continues to give me work. I continue to do it. We talk future -- later and so forth. Magic? or denial.

C'est la Vie

My claim to fame denied again — and that's all that I will say about that. It's okay, although the visions of glory were entertaining, on occasion. Life goes on.

But apologies for not posting more frequently. It was hard for me to write around the elephant in my brain/room.

Not much of a summer here, but that's the way it is too. In the City, the sun comes out briefly, and just when you think you could seriously get used to it, it's gone.

Work goes on. I'm lucky to have a job, everyone says. And I'm making tremendous progress in my French, which I study during the commute. Paris, here I come (springtime in, depending on work and AWP, if I go).

Here's some news: the poetry group 13 Ways will be reading at the Madrone Lounge in San Francisco on September 20. More info as the date nears.

Wednesday, August 12, is the Perseid meteor shower. It's not going to be too spectacular this year, due to moonlight, but we're trying to find a fog-minimal, city-light-free spot to view it. Years ago, when the boy was small, we would drive from Camp Mather and throw the old Army blankets down on the still-warm concrete of the Hetch Hetchy dam and watch the show.

Bit of an update

I apologize for the dearth of posts these days. It would seem to be a good thing — that life is too busy to take the time to talk about it -- but most of the busy-ness is just the business of living, working, driving to work and back home and staying awake, evenings and weekends busy with meals, laundry, po biz, and so forth. Rarely do I get the luxury to just read or write. Sometimes I write in my sleep, restlessly composing, waking up so tired I can hardly drag through the day.

Work has fallen off for John, as it usually does during periods of economic difficulty. Who wants to pay for photography when they can have their brother-in-law take the picture? Someone actually called John the other day, balking at his day fee and threatening to go to Sears. John tried to explain that they wouldn't get the same quality from Sears. I told him to just tell the caller to hold up their cell phone and smile. Sure. Why not? Meantime, we've closed the photo studio and saved 2K a month. John is attempting to work from home, his workstation set up in the dark basement!

And I've got too much work at work, while the management encourages us to take unpaid vacation. Facebook friends in academia talk about summer vacation. We contemplate the San Francisco summer — unrelenting fog. For that reason alone (well, aside from a paycheck), I don't mind the long commute south each morning. At least I see sun, smell the jasmine blooming outside the office.

We are set to go away for four days next week, however, for John's mom's 90th birthday. There will be a big party in the Boston area, relatives flying in from Ireland and all. Except the young man who was supposed to dogsit has bailed. Our dog is 14 years old, sweet and delicate, and John and I baby her night and day. Greta is on painkillers, can't do stairs or hills (and we live on a 14° hill), and needs to be assisted in and out of a car. So I'm trying not to panic as we contact everyone we know, hoping that someone will want to stay here for four days, high on a hill in San Francisco, with a sweet little mutt.

This morning, yoga class (with a substitute) was cancelled. I tried to do yoga at home (and did eventually), but first I had to deal with downward facing dog — actually more like dog in relaxation pose. Cellphone picture below.




Now you see why I don't post more often. Maybe I will have something interesting to say sometime soon.

Some News

Some news has been brewing for some time. I've been shy about hinting, but today the announcement has been made. My book, finalist yet again, has been selected for publication by Dream Horse Press. I'm happy, feel they will do well by my book, as well as a (very) small press can do, and I'm happy to save those godawful contest fees for a while. (Though actually, I have another --new-- book -- that still needs work, waiting in the wings, though I have already sent it to two places.) But Conjugated Visits, formerly known as Demimonde, which will be published by Dream Horse Press in 2010, is my first, for a long time my only baby, and I feel funny, no longer wondering and worrying about its future.

Not counting putting together the final manuscript, deciding on a photo for the cover, and then learning all that publicity stuff, which I've never had to pay attention to.