One Minnesota Writer

Photo Fragment Tuesday

2012-02-14T08:52:00.000-06:00

Today's prompts look like this:

photo by Jim Mickelson

Photos by Kathleen Cassen Mickelson, except as noted.

Where does your vision take you?

Happy Valentine's Day.

Artist's Way Check In #6 - Abundance and Generosity

2012-02-13T11:26:00.002-06:00

A sense of abundance is sometimes hard to come by when an artist is seeking that balance between having to earn a living and making art. Throw a family into the mix and it shifts again. It's hard to find abundance when money or time is in short supply.

The past couple of weeks have offered several reminders about what abundance is and how generosity plays a big part in furthering that feeling. And that trickles into the creation of art.

I've been doing a lot of child care over the past week. My son Shawn, an artist, and his wife Beka, a grad student and special education paraprofessional, had a recent schedule shift that has wreaked havoc with child care arrangements for their nine-month-old daughter Camille. That means Camille hangs out with me some days and then I need to figure out when to write. When to shower, too, come to think of it.

Camille is actually sitting right next to me, on my old yoga mat, pounding on a toy piano that was Shawn's as I write this post. I am fortunate to be able to write in my own office at home, which means there's nobody here to object if I add a baby to the mix. Yes, it makes my schedule harder sometimes, but this is where I feel abundance: being able to write in my own house with an across-the-hall commute. Why in the world would I say no to Camille when she can hang out and bang on a baby piano? This situation is going to last for a while, so I need to figure out how to make my part in it work. This is my choice as a member of a larger family group. That family group is as important as the writing.

That doesn't work for everyone, of course, but that isn't really the point. The point is that abundance is not always about money or goods. It can be about time, space, opportunity. It can be about loving someone else enough to open up space that wasn't all that evident before they came along. That abundance, and the generosity that follows it, forges connections with others that build our networks as families and as artists or writers or whatever we are. I do Shawn and Beka a favor with child care. They get to go to their jobs or make art without worrying whether their daughter is safe. Shawn then does me the favor of teaching me to draw, of showing me how to look at things like a visual artist. I'll use that in my writing. Camille grows up in an extended family that shows her how to pool their resources for the benefit of everyone. She sees how everyone gets a chance to do their work and still have time to give to themselves and each other.

On a broader scale, the Sunday salon group I belong to had a discussion yesterday about greed and altruism. Our conversation meandered around on a societal rather than personal level - the greed that tends to be associated with large corporations or insurance companies, economic theory, whether it's a survival instinct to be greedy and whether altruism can also be a survival tactic. As we talked about people who don't have a lot and whether trickle-down economics has ever worked for the poor, I remembered what it was like when I was a single parent. There was no extra money, little extra time, and I certainly didn't have anything within me to look for abundance in my life. My parents occasionally helped out, but not often. I couldn't find time to write back then because there was no support system that gave me enough breathing space to even consider it. At least, I couldn't see one.

Which brings me back to today. Abundance is evident in my life, right now, and it is what allows me to say yes to others. There are always going to be times when we can't see that we have enough (and maybe we really don't). But when we do learn to see abundance and figure out what we have that can be opened up and shared, our art will get created no matter what.

Special Update: Flash Fiction Chronicles is Sponsoring a Contest

2012-02-12T13:50:00.002-06:00

Check out the information for the String-of-10 FOUR flash fiction contest, sponsored by Flash Fiction Chronicles. The idea is to create a 250-word story from a string of 10 random words. Follow this link for more information:

http://www.everydayfiction.com/flashfictionblog/string-of-10-four-starts-right-now/

There's a prize involved for the best story. Good luck!

First Five Fragments for Friday

2012-02-10T06:45:00.000-06:00

Today's fragments tumbled out like this:

1. No matter what's going on, Friday morning feels different - happier. Work week mind or happy hour anticipation?

2. When the house looks completely different after vacuuming, you know you've waited a little too long.

3. Silence in the early morning is peaceful. Silence at the dinner table when there are other people sitting with you is something else entirely.

4. Why are red noses on babies kind of funny?

5. I'm grateful for the way I can blurt out almost anything with my good friends....and vice versa. But there are still things I would never say out loud.

And your fragments are....?

What have you created lately?

Happy Friday.

Photo Fragment Tuesday

2012-02-07T07:00:00.000-06:00

This week's photo writing prompts look like this:

All photos by Kathleen Cassen Mickelson.

Where does your vision take you?

Artist's Way Check In #5: About Possibility

2012-02-06T09:38:00.000-06:00

Possibility is one of those big, vague words that leaves everything open. Possibility means we step forward and fill in our own terms. For some, it might mean backing up and looking around for a safe, well-defined place. That would be the denial of possibility. That would be the antithesis of living a creative life.

I've been thinking about possibility this past week as I've done more drawing, more journaling, and moved into another assignment to choose poems for a month over at Every Day Poets. And I had this new recognition about where the seeds for my own desires for this life path of mine came from.

People that know me well have heard stories about my parents that include both a sense of Catholic, working-class rigidity that I've done my best to leave behind, as well as stories about our annual summer road trips. Those road trips were the two or three weeks out of the year that most of the rules changed.

Here's the basic outline. My father, a federal civil servant, worked full-time. My mom did not. When Dad put in for vacation, he always got a summer slot and he looked forward to driving away from Minnesota to pretty much anywhere. It was his thing to hit the road. My mom prepared everything that needed to go with us - clean clothes, toiletries, a cooler with snacks, the map that would lead us to a place that might have motels. Dad packed his own stuff, and made sure the car was tuned. And then, on a summer day - usually a Saturday, the first day off - we would head out as early in the morning as we could stand it.

This was before cell phones. Before personal global positioning systems. Before Internet hotel reservations. Before Doppler radar. And my parents' only plan was which direction we were going to head and the target date by which we had to be back home.

I always thought those road trips were my dad's thing. His escape valve. But I've been thinking about my mom lately and finally recognize that this was her escape valve, too. She rode shotgun in the best possible way: the co-pilot who never refused when Dad said, let's take that road there because it looks interesting. Sometimes she was the one who said, let's take that road over there and it was my father who did not refuse. Either way, there would be Mom, looking out the window, with an occasional request to stop so she could take a picture. She documented every single road trip with that famous rigidity of hers that allowed us to look back, years later, and know exactly where we were when any given photo was taken. She documented the way we embraced possibility.

What did this teach me? The luxury of not knowing where we were going to be on any given day taught me about when to use a map and when to ignore it in favor of my own sense of direction. My phrase, "The luxury of not knowing," is deliberate. We were incredibly lucky that our lives offered this kind of possibility. We weren't wealthy people. We didn't have a fancy car, nor did we stay in upscale hotels. We stayed in little family-run motels, some of which were complete flea bags, but the adventure was what mattered. The acknowledgement that, even though our daily lives were rule-bound, there was still this opportunity to let ourselves stumble into the unknown and let things develop.

This, then, is where the seeds of my own wish for creating stories and poems, for making photo journals, were planted: that release valve that my family offered, that they planned for and saved for and then opened with abandon once a year.

Where do the seeds for your possibilities come from?

My father in 1973 in Lousiana - looking for the next possibility

First Five Fragments for Friday

2012-02-03T07:49:00.001-06:00

Writing prompts were unwilling to show up this morning. So, what happens then? We punt.

Five reasons why I felt like I couldn't get a writing prompt out to save my life this morning:
1. I'm tired
2. I'm cranky
3. I have too many things to get done today
4. I'm worried about my kids
5. It feels like someone is squeezing my head

Five reasons why I show up at the page anyway:
1. I'd be mad at myself if I didn't
2. I've made a pact with the general public to put stuff on this blog on Friday morning
3. I don't want my family to think I'm lazy
4. I figure I can work through it
5. Blank pages don't do anyone any good if they stay blank

This is what the writing life is like sometimes. Sometimes the impetus to get to our work isn't there, feels just out of reach, whatever. And so?

When I started this regular blog feature, I have to admit that five writing prompts for a Friday morning came about mostly because I liked the alliteration. Then I thought, hey, five weekdays and five prompts is a good system. The prompts come out on Friday, people have all weekend to let them simmer into some kind of idea by Monday. (I'm a big believer in weekends.)

Then there's the very real kick-start that having to post something on a regular basis provides for any writer. This is how we keep our muscles toned. This is one way we tell people we're serious. And, if we were in any other profession, it wouldn't matter if we didn't feel like producing anything; we'd have to show up anyway.

And all those reasons above why I couldn't get a writing prompt out could actually be a launching pad. They launched this blog post, didn't they? So I guess there were some prompts to be had after all.

And your fragments today are.....?

Photo Fragment Tuesday

2012-01-31T09:11:00.001-06:00

Today's writing prompt photos look like this:

All photos by Kathleen Cassen Mickelson.

Where does your vision take you?

The story is in the details. Happy Tuesday.

Artist's Way Check In #4 - Reminder to Slow Down

2012-01-30T11:28:00.002-06:00

How many of you do things at breakneck speed because your to-do list is miles long? And does that tendency spill over into your writing life? Your artistic life?

Mine does. This week's Artist's Way work brought up an important reminder: slow down.

As part of my Artist's Way journey, I'm learning to draw (see my Artist's Way Check In #1). Being who I am means I often jump into things thinking it won't take me long to figure them out. It's not always the best approach. I really have to practice patience to stop myself from giving up on unfamiliar things, from deciding I can't do this or that and moving on. With drawing, I had this idea that I could move through the lessons Shawn (my son/teacher) gave me fast enough to move on to picking up a paint brush instead of a pencil.

Silly me. Doing contour drawings - for someone who has never spent much time drawing - is a huge challenge in patience. It's a very different way of putting things on the page than when I write.

When I write, I carry things around in my head for a long time before they spill onto the page. I mull words over, have interior conversations, work things out. Then I sit down at the computer and words fly out of my fingers. With drawing, I can't do that. There isn't a way to hold an object in my head and then have it fly out of my drawing pencil. The slow part is in the actual drawing. And the real-time observation.

Shawn sat with me at the Blue Moon coffehouse in Minneapolis last Friday and looked at the drawings I've done so far. I'm sketching mundane things just to learn how to use the pencils and the space on the paper. He looked at drawings of a brass bell, a matchbook, candles on a tray, and a Kleenex box. I was embarrassed by what I considered failed attempts while he saw a clear progression in my use of drawing tools. He saw success in how I looked at objects in space. And he said, very clearly, "You need to slow down."

Then we looked at the drawings together. Shawn pointed to lines that indicated to him that I had sketched too fast. He could see when I began to draw more slowly. We sat at a back table in the coffeehouse while he showed me how he looked at things to make a sketch. We deconstructed the lamp on the table, looked at all of the shapes within the whole of the lamp. I now have a new assignment to draw the Kleenex box - my most successful drawing - a few more times with new information about how to place it on the page.

When I move back into my own territory as a writer, I can draw the parallel: I read poems all the time in which the poet has rushed through the piece, slapped down words that haven't been fully considered, and sent it off before it was ready. Maybe I'll start using Shawn's directive to slow down as a more frequent part of the comments I offer to those whose work I read.

As for that chapter I just completed in The Artist's Way, there is one line I'd like to share: "....creativity is grounded in reality, in the particular, the focused, the well observed or specifically imagined." In order to get that focus, to observe well, we really must slow down.

Thanks for that thonk on the head, Shawn.

First Five Fragments for Friday/Do a Kind Thing

2012-01-27T06:00:00.000-06:00

This week's writing prompts/fragments are:

1. Jack Kerouac had a valid point when he said to accept loss forever. So why do we keep those empty hiking boots in the closet and that half-full bottle of brandy that no one else drinks as if the person to whom they belonged will return from the dead?

2. Baby sea otters make everyone smile. Maybe they should be plastered on posters in all places of civil unrest.

3. Getting thanked for anything, anything at all, makes a big difference in how the day feels.

4. I like clouds except when they obscure the northern lights and then they are one big fat annoyance.

5. If one has a 17-year-old daughter, then one is well-acquainted with the term, "mercurial". And, possibly, the phrase, "Yes, I'll have another glass of wine."

And your fragments are.....?

DO A KIND THING

This week was a weird week around our house. Maybe weird isn't quite the right word. Maybe tragic is a better word. Maybe sad. Maybe frightening.

One of my daughter's classmates committed suicide last Friday.

There was the usual response from the school: automated calls to families, counselors available, announcements to the students during classtime. And I am horrified to realize that I just said, "the usual response," as if this happens all the time.

But it does happen often enough that there is a "usual response". And I wondered if I would recognize the signs of possible suicidal tendencies if a kid I knew - or an adult, for that matter - exhibited them. Would you?

With that in mind, here's a link to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention's web page of warning signs. [click here] Not everyone who is feeling down can articulate their state of mind, so the kindest thing we can do, sometimes, is to recognize the symptoms and tell people we love that we are there for them.

Stay healthy. Stay in touch.

Photo Fragment Tuesday

2012-01-24T06:00:00.000-06:00

This week's visions look like this:

All photos by Kathleen Cassen Mickelson.

Where does your vision take you?

Artist's Way Check In #3

2012-01-23T11:06:00.000-06:00

The title for week 3 in The Artist's Way is, "Recovering a Sense of Power." There are a lot of tasks related to remembering childhood things - my room, my traits, my accomplishments. There are tasks related to habits now and people who nurture me. And there are tasks related to people I admire.

Did I really think about any of these things much over the past week? Well, my habits, for sure. My attempts to get into the habit of drawing aren't going so well. I had to call my son and tell him the things he assigned me (contour drawings, positive/negative space explorations, shape-to-shape studies) didn't get completed. I discovered I'm having a lot of trouble developing a new habit that's outside the scope of writing. I sort of chip away at it, read a little, draw just enough to think what I'm putting on the page is awful, and then I go to the kitchen and cook because that always makes me feel better.

This perceived failure to get right into a new habit is an interesting piece to think about. It takes a long time to develop a habit, have it fit into a life. Over the past couple of years, I've gotten into the habit of commenting on other people's poems because of my work as an editor. The team I work with is expected to comment in a meaningful way on as many submissions as possible. The development of that habit forced me to expand what I knew about poetry. I'm constantly looking up information on various poetic forms as well as references I don't recognize or don't know enough about when they appear in someone's work, and reading bits of literary criticism to bolster my scope. I've done a lot of work around how to comment on other people's poetry without seeming unfair, uneducated, or uncaring while maintaining an expected standard for publication. Now that I'm fully invested in this sort of editorial work, there is a sense of power that goes with it: yes, I do know how to do this sort of thing even in the face of others who might tell me flat-out that I'm full of [fill in your favorite pile of crap here].

My son is powerful as an artist. I love that he's willing to teach me what he can. The development of drawing as a habit may or may not happen for me. The important thing I hope to learn is how to look at things the way a visual artist looks at them, to transfer some of that kind of vision to the way I arrange words on a page. The habit of seeing space in more than one way is what I'm really after.

Where is your power? What habits do you have that exercise that power?

First Five Fragments for Friday

2012-01-20T06:00:00.000-06:00

This week's writing prompts tumbled out like this:

1. Over 500 kids in one orchestra all playing at once = breath-taking occurrence.

2. Watching my daughter try on dresses for a dance this week reminded me that she (and many of her high school friends) has no idea how beautiful she is or how that beauty affects other people....hence her opinion that she would be just as happy wearing something made from duct tape.

3. After feeling stupid for letting my tires get too low in sub zero weather, I discovered that there was a line for the air hose at the local gas station. Guess it wasn't just me. Now, what else have I let get too low?

4. The most amusing thing about being at the airport yesterday was watching people arrive wearing flip flops and wondering if they realized how cold it was in Minnesota and wondering if they had carried on their luggage. Just sayin'.

5. Every time he goes out of town, she makes fish so she doesn't accidentally kill him.

And your fragments are.....?

May you find a warm place to write today.

Pam Writes Re-Runs My Post: Fifty Ways to Leave Your Writer's Block

2012-01-18T13:24:00.000-06:00

If you haven't checked out Pam Parker's blog, Pam Writes, go take a look today:

http://www.pamwrites.net/2012/01/18/waiting-to-un-block/

Maybe you'll find something to nudge you out of any imagined writer's block. Then come back here for writing prompts every Tuesday (photos) and Friday (words). It might mean never having to say you're blocked.

Photo Fragment Tuesday

2012-01-17T06:00:00.000-06:00

Today's photo writing prompts look like this......

All photos by Kathleen Cassen Mickelson.

Where does your vision take you?

Artist's Way Check In #2

2012-01-16T18:32:00.000-06:00

At the end of my second week of The Artist's Way for 2012, I realized that I am a lot less anal than I used to be about this kind of thing.

The first time I went through The Artist's Way, I was so focused on doing it right, that I probably missed all kinds of ways to expand my creativity. If the workbook said to write every morning before anything else, that's exactly what I did. If it said it had to be three pages by hand then, dammit, it was three pages by hand. Never mind that I couldn't read my own handwriting sometimes when I went back to lift ideas from those pages. And I certainly didn't take a day off.

This is what being raised as a rule-bound good Catholic girl will get you.

So. I'm not Catholic anymore, but letting go of rules is an evolutionary thing. One of the lessons I've learned from being part of an online daily poetry journal is that someone has to pay attention every single day to things like spam filters and author correspondence. That sort of thing can wear on a person. Thus, team work is a really nice thing; people trade off who's responsible for what so that no one gets burned out.

With this in mind (the burned out part, not the team part), my Artist's Way 2012 has built-in rests. I'm claiming Sundays as days when I don't have to produce anything.

I recently someone else's blog about how he doesn't turn on his computer one day a week, but chooses to rest (that someone else was Joe Bunting and this is the post: http://thewritepractice.com/you-have-to-choose/). The idea set off quite a firestorm of comments from people who agreed with him pitted against people who were horrified at the idea of taking time away from all their online connections because of what they might miss. I don't believe I'm so important that I would miss anything critical if I weren't online for a day and I don't believe that my creativity is going to roll backwards if I don't write for a day out of each week. When Julie Cameron talks about "filling the well" in The Artist's Way, she has her method of play as a way for that to happen. My method includes resting.

A rebellion against being on all the damn time is as good for creativity as writing practice and learning to draw. Try it.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2012-01-13T06:00:00.000-06:00

1. Learning to draw is a humbling experience when everything on my paper looks like something the tide dragged in.

2. For once, just this week, I found a place where I could watch the full moon set in the early morning.

3. My husband gets to go to San Diego, California, tomorrow. Me? I get to go to St. Peter, Minnesota, on Monday. Oh, boy.

4. Old, abandoned concrete steps that lead from an oak-covered hill and don't quite go all the way down to a lake shore, littered with a few cigarette butts and an empty bottle or two.....

5. A white squirrel leaps from tree limb to tree limb, flicks his tail, chatters, and disappears.

And your fragments are.....?
Happy Friday the 13th!

Photo Fragment Tuesday

2012-01-10T06:00:00.000-06:00

Today's photo writing prompts are....

All photos by Kathleen Cassen Mickelson.

Where does your vision take you?

Artist's Way Check In #1

2012-01-09T09:24:00.003-06:00

Today marks the end of my first week of moving through The Artist's Way for 2012.

If any of you are following along, you know that weekly check-ins are an essential part of The Artist's Way. It's a time to figure out what works and what doesn't, what emerges as important and what comes up as a surprise.

As I tried to figure out my own artist's date for this week, I decided I wanted to play around with paint. I had a master vision of painting some kind of abstraction based on close-ups of stuff in my garden. I mentioned this to my son, Shawn, who is a Minneapolis-based artist. He said, Mom, if you want to paint, learn to draw.

So, my surprise this week is that I began drawing lessons. Shawn is a pretty good teacher. He's a mince-no-words critic, and I work best with directness which means this is a good fit. Today I'm playing with gray scales and learning to use different types of pencils - graphite, charcoal, conté - and trying to squelch that voice that has always told me I can't draw worth a damn. I've always wanted to draw and so do I really want to give credit to any message that I can't? Hell no. Not right now. Besides, nobody is going to see this stuff but me. Well, and Shawn, so he can tell me what lesson to do next.

What does this do for my writing life?

I'm a big believer in trying to look at things through an assortment of lenses. Looking at what's around me as potential for something to sketch makes me look at space differently, makes me think about lines differently. It shakes up my perspective. That shake-up is something I can take back to the writing desk. Every time I write something, I have a picture in my head. I think those picture are about to shift.

How did your first week of 2012 surprise you? What other art would you do to shake up your writing?

First Five Fragments for Friday

2012-01-06T07:00:00.000-06:00

Writing prompt for this week....

1. The man in the cowboy hat outside the St. Anthony Park Post Office seemed to have misplaced himself.

2. Fencing masks make me think of a fly's face. Maybe just one eye of a fly, actually.

3. This year, I'm going to spend less time waiting for others.

4. My friend hates the little sticky labels on fresh fruit and the way they pull at the skin when she tries to remove them.

5. We don't tell people we appreciate them often enough. Why?

And your fragments are....?

And your wishes for writing prompts for 2012 are....?

Happy New Year - Here's to a Creative Life

2012-01-03T04:00:00.000-06:00

After a year of feeling a little bogged down with learning how to be a better editor (although I wouldn't have traded that for anything - I love what I do), I had a breaking open of my head through a recent conversation with a close friend about passion in our lives. What was it we really loved to do? What was it we were putting off? How could we get more activities in our lives that made us feel excited to be here?

I thought about my answers to those questions quite a lot during the month of December. I thought about the many pieces of writing I have stacked up on my desk that are in various stages of being finished. I thought about other creative outlets I have: cooking, photography, music (other people's, not mine), gardening. And I thought about how much more I need to learn about all of them. What, exactly, is it that holds me back? How do I break through whatever that is?

And so I'm kicking off 2012 by doing The Artist's Way again. I've been through the work book twice before and found that it's one of the best kicks in the pants I can give myself. If you've never done The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron, why not check it out? It presents a way of reclaiming and exploring your creativity, whether your are a writer, painter, photographer, cook, or just plain alive. It shakes up perceptions. It urges new paradigms.

My question for you, then, whoever you are reading this post, is what holds you back? What are you going to reclaim or discover this year?

Join in the conversation.

LOOKING FOR PHOTO FRAGMENT TUESDAY?

Here you go:

Where does your vision take you?

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-12-30T06:00:00.000-06:00

One Minnesota Writer is taking a holiday break.....

1. to recharge

2. to celebrate

3. to be with family

4. to eat cookies

5. to watch sappy movies

Happy New Year.

Photo Fragment Tuesday

2011-12-27T06:00:00.000-06:00

One Minnesota Writer is taking a break this week. Enjoy the holidays.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-12-23T06:00:00.000-06:00

Today's writing prompts:

1. In the last two days before Christmas, a greeting card arrives from someone you haven't heard from in at least five years. Inside, is an invitation to make peace. Do you trust it?

2. One Christmas tree upstairs, one Festivus pole downstairs, one dreidel somewhere in the bookcase, one book on the Solstice on the coffee table and, somehow, the greeting we use most this week is "Merry Christmas".

3. I have a newfound respect for the word, "mayhem."

4. The best sound in the world is my kid's laughter coming from the other room, especially when there are other voices joining in with hers. And the best not-sound is a not-barking dachshund.

5. The first thing you see in the morning is.......

And your fragments are....?

Happy Friday. Happy Christmas, Hanukkah, Solstice....Happy Life.

Photo Fragment Tuesday

2011-12-20T08:34:00.000-06:00

Today's photo writing prompts are......

All photos by Kathleen Cassen Mickelson.

Where does your vision take you?

Happy Tuesday. Happy almost-Solstice.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-12-16T08:24:00.001-06:00

1. Crows congregate around a stale loaf of bread in the back yard while more crows watch from overhanging branches. A highly-organized five-minute feast ensues. Palate cleansing?

2. December sunrise sky colors outline skinny pine trees for just long enough to be grateful.

3. A goat munches frozen grass on your lawn next to the deflated Santa decoration. Thoughts?

4. When our garage door breaks, an image of the horder's house two blocks over, whose garage door has been broken for months, is the first thing that pops into my head.

5. If you want to be gaudy for the holiday party, is that sequined sweater really the first thing you reach for? Or is it the blinking Rudolph nose?

And your fragments are....?

DO A KIND THING

If you have waited until now to figure out holiday gifts, you might be wondering what you can do quickly. There's a really slick way to donate to charity and give a gift at the same time: Charity Choice Gift Cards. I found this site while researching last minute holiday charity giving and love the idea behind it. Charity Choice Gift Cards allows gift recipients to choose the charity that is closest to their hearts. It works like this: you go on the site and purchase a gift card. You send it to your gift recipient and they then look at the list of over 250 charities on the site to find the one they feel best fits causes they want to support. It's a great way to spread that holiday cheer a little further, particularly for those on your list who already have everything they need or want. See what you think.

Photo Fragment Tuesday

2011-12-13T08:19:00.003-06:00

All photos by Kathleen Cassen Mickelson.

Where does your vision take you?

Happy holiday writing.

SPECIAL UPDATE: Every Day Novels launches its first serial novel

2011-12-12T09:31:00.002-06:00

Most of you know that I'm an editor at Every Day Poets. Our new sister site, Every Day Novels, now has a live, operational website. Here is the link to the site, as well as some information on the very first novel, which will begin serialization in January:

http://everydaynovels.com/liftingupveronica/

Lifting Up Veronica follows Michael Kovac, a sociologist from Ohio State University, as he travels to rural West Virginia in the summer of 1960 to shoot footage for a documentary during a week-long tent meeting at a Signs Followers church — a Christian sect best known for their practice of handling venomous snakes and participating in other potentially deadly practices…

Author bio:

K.C. Ball lives in Seattle, Washington. She became an addict of the written word as a child in Ohio and began writing fiction full-time four years ago. Her short fiction has appeared in print and online; she has won the Writers of the Future award and graduated from Clarion West. Lifting Up Veronica is her first novel.

Additional information:

Every Day Novels has a launch promotion up right now (20% off the subscription price) but that won’t last long, so anyone who wants to benefit from that shouldn’t wait. More information about the Every Day Novels concept can be found here: http://everydaynovels.com/about/

Pass it on.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-12-09T07:23:00.001-06:00

1. December in Minnesota means your feet are cold BEFORE you get out of bed.

2. Red carpets are one thing, but lumpy red carpets that cause people to actually look at what they're stepping over are way more interesting than a flat, red expanse.

3. Who would you lay down in front of?

4. Morning sounds: public radio news, creaking wooden floors, dogs tags that jangle, dog kibble that hits a stoneware bowl, water that cascades into the coffeemaker, the muted slam of the refrigerator door, the bip-bip-bip of email messages being deleted from a cell phone, the garage door as it glides up the cold metal door track, the crunch of frozen snow beneath car tires....

5. Lights on a Christmas tree in the early morning make it just a little more magical.

And your fragments are.....?

Have a lovely weekend. May it include cookies.

Photo Fragment Tuesday

2011-12-06T07:50:00.001-06:00

All photos by KCMickelson.

Where does your vision take you?

Grateful to have a snowblower for the first winter ever. Happy Tuesday.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-12-02T06:00:00.000-06:00

1. How many inflatable holiday decorations can one city-sized yard hold before the merry scene shifts to potential horror setting?

2. Do little kids get nightmares from seeing deflated Santas face-down in their neighbors' front yards during daylight hours in December?

3. My dog got a stomach ache and did what she always does: beg to go outside so she could eat copious quantities of grass. Thing was, the grass was frozen beneath a thin layer of snow. I could hear her crunching as she ate it anyway.

4. The automobile Bluetooth experience: "Call Beka". "Call Peggy. Is this correct?" "No. Call Beka." "Call Emma. Is this correct?" "No! Call Beka." "Call Kara. Is this correct?" "No! Goddamn it..." Punch end call button on steering wheel and turn the radio up loud. Let myself be late without a heads up.

5. Perfect holiday decorating involves handing someone else the strings of tree lights.

And your fragments are....?

DO A KIND THING

Yup, it's time for Toys for Tots again. Wouldn't be the holiday season without it. In talking to people I know who help collect toys for kids who might not otherwise get holiday gifts, it seems that teens don't get as much attention as younger kids....just a little nudge. Everybody feels happy when they get a present.

I love December!

UPDATE!

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: POETRY

Every Day Poets is looking for fine, short (less than 500 words) poetry. Now accepting post-Valentine's Day pieces. No previously published (or publicly posted) work. No more than three poems/author/submission. Please see complete guidelines here.

Photo Fragment Tuesday

2011-11-29T08:20:00.001-06:00

All photos by Kathleen Cassen Mickelson.

And where does your vision take you?

Happy post-Thanksgiving week.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-11-25T01:00:00.000-06:00

1. I'm an anti-Black Friday kind of girl.

2. Thick lustrous warm fudge on an old wooden spoon and everyone in the kitchen together.

3. The way cranberries pop and spit as they simmer with sugar water in a saucepan.

4. I-94 from eastern Minnesota all the way across Wisconsin, through farm land, over rivers, beside stands of naked deciduous trees, and the way radio stations fade in and out.

5. Oconomowoc, Wisconsin, the town no one from somewhere else can pronounce, and how it hugs two small lakes in its arms.

And your post-Thanksgiving Day fragments are....?

Enjoy the long weekend.

Photo Fragment Tuesday

2011-11-22T01:00:00.000-06:00

All photos by Kathleen Cassen Mickelson.
Art detail from work by Minneapolis art collective Rogue Citizen, used with permission.

Where does your vision take you?

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-11-18T07:46:00.001-06:00

1. 7 a.m. Zen: morning cold, crows aloft, perfect half moon, silence, breath.

2. The table cloth, still rumpled from last night's dinner, holds tortilla crumbs, a dribble of salsa, three shreds of cheese, and echoes of conversation that linger beside my morning coffee.

3. Facebook feuds - it's not Facebook's fault some humans can't get along and will use all available tools to prove it.

4. A girl who falls asleep without letting go of her boyfriend's hand during the drive home.

5. We need more out-of-season Santas.

And your fragments are....?

Happy Friday writing.

Photo Fragment Tuesday

2011-11-15T01:00:00.000-06:00

All photos by Kathleen Cassen Mickelson.

Where does your vision take you?

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-11-11T01:00:00.000-06:00

1. The therapeutic aspects of sauteing mushrooms, onions, tomatoes, and kalamata olives, then mixing all that with feta and oregano, then rolling that mixture up in butterflied pork tenderloin, baking it and feeding it to three other people cannot be overestimated.

2. Human beings never get tired of seeing that full moon on a dark night just as we never get tired of the welcome light on someone's porch.

3. Fedoras are sexy.

4. When there are only about six flakes of snow, that does not count as the first snowfall of the season and it's a disappointing finale to a forecast for flurries.

5. I used to collect pieces of stone - malachite, quartz, amethyst, fluorite, moss agate - and pile them up on a saucer on my desk where I could rub my fingers across them while I pondered the next word. Why did I ever think that was too much clutter for my space? I miss them.

And your fragments are....?

Happy Friday. Happy Veteran's Day. And, if you're a vet, thank you.

Enjoy the 11-11-11 fun.

Photo Fragment Tuesday

2011-11-08T08:11:00.002-06:00

All photos by Kathleen Cassen Mickelson.

Happy Tuesday writing.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-11-04T01:00:00.000-05:00

1. Jack-o-lanterns that wrinkle inward to become toothless, soft faces

2. The one red oak leaf that clings to its branch as if it could withstand winter's icy breath

3. Chili that simmers in a deep silver pot on the back burner while two dogs lay at the base of the stove

4. Dust dancing in the sunbeam that cuts through the kitchen window

5. How her boyfriend's hair covers his blue eyes as if it were armor for his thoughts

And your fragments are.....?

Happy Friday.

Photo Fragment Tuesday

2011-11-01T09:39:00.000-05:00

(all photos by Kathleen Cassen Mickelson)

Welcome back. Photo Fragments for Creative Flow will now be known simply as Photo Fragment Tuesday. What was I thinking with that earlier mouthful? Oh, well; revision is one of my reasons for being.

And I would like to wish Every Day Poets a very happy third birthday. If you haven't visited Every Day Poets, an international online poetry journal, now would be a great time. The site delivers a daily dose of short poetry and I have the privilege of being one of the editors. The team includes people from all over the world who donate hours and hours of their time every month to read through submissions and choose the best for publication. The table of contents for November is on the site today, so go see what you think. You can also check out our submission guidelines here: http://www.everydaypoets.com/submit-story/

Happy November 1.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-10-28T08:36:00.000-05:00

1. Finally, a Tattoo Barbie to change the conversation from big boobs to blatant ink.

2. Who knew mini dachshunds would actually eat mini pumpkins if they could get a hold of one? At least it wasn't my underwear this time.

3. Nothing like wondering why the water in the kettle isn't boiling yet until you realized you turned on the wrong burner.

4. Why are there no drive-through bakeries in my town to assuage doughnut cravings?

5. Sometimes, I get sick of words.

And your fragments are.....?

Happy Friday.

Happy Halloween.

Photo Fragments for Creative Flow

2011-10-25T09:55:00.000-05:00

Where does your vision take you?

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-10-21T09:25:00.000-05:00

1. Finally, frost on the pumpkin....and the grass, the roof, the coneflowers, the raspberry stalks, the deck chairs.....and permission to stop pulling weeds.

2. Twitter is a noisy place, like standing at a busy intersection all the time, only in cyberspace.

3. Going unplugged one day a week may not be enough.

4. Having a home office does not alleviate the need to take a vacation once in a while.

5. Desensitization. Status quo?

And your fragments are....?

DO A KIND THING

Got a kid who will trick or treat this Halloween? Perfect time to introduce the idea of collecting food shelf items along with all that fabulous candy. Here's a story about one kid who did just that: Halloween for the Hungry

It's a nice, inspiring read!

Happy Friday.

Photo Fragments for Creative Flow

2011-10-19T11:06:00.001-05:00

Welcome to a new feature at One Minnesota Writer.

Photo Fragments for Creative Flow is designed to offer visual prompts for those of you who find word prompts to be the wrong kind of thing to spark your work. Or, perhaps, some days, pictures work better than words to get you moving. Whatever the reason, there will now be weekly photo prompts on One Minnesota Writer.

Why do I call these prompts fragments? Because they are taken out of their original context, broken away from whatever body of work they were originally in, or they are only a small frame of detail from a larger vision. They are ready for you to use in your own context, your own vision.

I work with poetry. That work has deepened my own interest in the details that stick with us, the snippets that get our attention and resonate in some inner place. The fragments of our lives become the springboards for all kinds of thoughts, action, and creative endeavors. Details matter.

So, enjoy this new feature. Use it. Pass it on.

Thanks.

All photos by Kathleen Cassen Mickelson.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-10-14T08:05:00.000-05:00

Seasonal, regional, random.....

1. A nearly-full morning moon, scuttling gray clouds, and a 10-foot-tall blow-up Frankenstein next to an ivy-covered house

2. That phrase, "a pain in the ass," doesn't strike me as quite as bad as a pain in the lower back but I suppose it's catchier

3. Crows outside are having a noisy early morning meeting and they remind me of people I know - loud, raw, hunkered on a power line

4. The smell of sesame oil on shower-damp skin

5. Sometimes, hearing an airplane reminds me just how quiet it got when planes were grounded after 9/11 and how startling that quiet was, every bit as startling as an incredibly loud and close explosion.

Bonus photo fragments: alternative views

Happy Friday. Turn everything over and look at the other side.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-10-07T07:58:00.003-05:00

This week's writing prompts could be an exercise in light versus dark.

1. Rain after midnight is one of my favorite sounds at one of my favorites times.

2. There should be an underage Zombie Pub(less) Crawl....oh, wait, that would be Halloween. Sort of.

3. When a fifteen-year-old kid gets arrested for making bomb threats, do that kid's parents wonder if their own house is wired to blow?

4. Photo fragment from yesterday: October light. What words capture it?

5. Photo fragment from yesterday: this is what it is to be in the moment.

And your fragments are.....?

Bonus fragment - Lake Superior sunset/moonrise at the end of summer. Just because. Happy Friday.

What a Mom-Writer Thinks About

2011-10-05T09:57:00.000-05:00

Every once in a while, something slaps me on the head as a reminder that life can change long before I have time to snap my fingers. And any action can affect far more people than expected.

I watched the news this morning, relishing in an unexpected bit of free time thanks to there being no kids scheduled for the volunteer gig I usually do on Wednesday mornings. Amanda Knox was on the television, her teary face and wavering words a demonstration of extreme relief that she has her life back. Someone else on the news program commented that Knox's story is a cautionary tale for parents who send their kids overseas as students, that kids get caught up in things and may be unable to stop or alter what comes next.

I am fascinated with Knox's story because something like that could happen to my kid. My kid is looking at colleges and thinking about life beyond our house. And I am here, wondering along with her, waiting for that moment when she breaks loose and goes beyond any reach I might have. I saw the televised face of Amanda Knox and wondered what her parents are feeling right now, wonder how they lived through the past four years while their daughter was in jail in another country for a crime she has consistently said she did not do. I am quite sure such a situation with my own daughter would have killed me. I wondered about other parents who watched the story and whether they had similar thoughts. I wondered if other student who study abroad thought about Knox's story and if it changed how they interacted at all.

As all these thoughts collided in my head, my phone rang. There was a bomb threat at my daughter's high school this morning. Her school has over 2,000 students.

This story could have gone in any direction. I had no power to alter it. A bomb threat can be loaded or empty, which is the power of threats. People can't ignore them when they are of a magnitude that could affect thousands of people. We ignore little threats all the time - if we don't empty the garbage, we'll get mice; if we don't pay our bills on time, our credit score will suffer; if we don't slow down, we'll get a speeding ticket. But a bomb threat to a school is not going to be ignored. Just like that, everything can change.

The good news is that there was no bomb. Very early this morning, the school was searched. Someone was arrested. There are more cops around on the high school campus today. My kid, and everyone else's, will still walk out of school this afternoon grousing about homework or tests without much thought to what could have happened.

But I know. I know that it could all have been different, that I could have awakened tomorrow without a daughter. Whoever made the bomb threat was irresponsible and stupid. There is no excuse for that kind of joke. I'm betting that person has not had someone ripped out their lives for four years or for forever, or they might have known better. Empty or loaded, their threat still affected thousands. Just like that. Snap.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-09-30T07:28:00.000-05:00

This week's writing prompts are tinged with domesticity.

1. Homecoming, frost warnings, pumpkins as house decor, and the smell of almond oil.

2. Homemade pizza on a Thursday night and friends who sleep over.

3. Donuts on a Friday morning that make it easier to get out the door.

4. The attractiveness of ignoring my phone - make that both phones - for the next four hours.

5. The smell of Magic Spray Sizing, the feel of a warm shirt against my shoulders, and the rustle of newly-pressed fabric.

And your fragments are.....?

If you have success with any of these prompts, chime in with a comment below. Happy last day of September.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-09-23T01:00:00.000-05:00

1. When babies teethe, I imagine their words, if they had them, would be something like,

"Teeth are way over-rated and if you really loved me, you'd put whiskey on my gums."

2. There is no excuse for belly button lint that could make it sexy.

3. We heard a lot about the execution of Troy Davis in Georgia but not so much about the execution of Lawrence Russell Brewer in Texas which demonstrates how acceptance/protest of the death penalty really does depend on whether the one executed is seen an an unfortunate human caught up in bad circumstances or a monster. Either way, two more people are dead.

4. How do you follow up thoughts about the death penalty with something else that matters?

5. Football. It's the autumn salve of tired Americans who need to stop thinking for a while.

DO A KIND THING

Winter is looming in my neighborhood. Yes, even in September. This is the time of year when I think about how much I love cooking and feeding everyone I know. I'm really lucky to be able to do so. I can enjoy cooking and having people to dinner because our family has enough to share.

Everyone should be so lucky. But they aren't. And they don't all fit around our dinner tables. That's why there are food shelves. Check out Feeding America here and share what you can.

First Five Fragments for Friday and Then Some

2011-09-16T08:29:00.001-05:00

1. Leftover coffee does not have the same oomph as the freshly-brewed stuff. Clearly.

2. "Frost on the pumpkin" is an awful cliche when used in poetry but it looks so cool when it actually is there in the back yard.

3. This is the group I'm planning Sunday supper for: one who is allergic to legumes, one who is allergic to fish, one who is lactose-intolerant, one who is a bit sensitive to gluten, one who does not eat red meat. Challenges are a good thing.

4. Why doesn't a crisp morning equal a crisp mind?

5. If there are crumbs on my dining room table, it does not mean I'm a slob. It means the table actually had people around it.

And your fragments are.....?

CHECK THIS OUT

This week, Every Day Poets showcased Emily Cutler, a prolific young poet. Today, her interview with EDP staff is published here.

One of EDP's contributing poets, Jonathan Pinnock, is celebrating the publication of his book, Mrs. Darcy versus the Aliens. Find out more here.

Last weekend, Minneapolis art collective Rogue Citizen performed a live paint at the Voices Gallery in Dubuque, IA, Check it out here.

Anyone else have news of their own writing/art success? Leave a comment.

First Five Fragments for Friday and Then Some

2011-09-09T08:12:00.004-05:00

1. Dental drills could be magnificent weapons under the right circumstances

2. Am I ever going to NOT fear wasps and hornets? I think not.

3. Who originally thought confession was a good idea?

4. How many times do any of us say "no" in a day?

5. No matter what's going on, it's better if I hear my kid laugh.

And your fragments are....?

OTHER SHORT BITS

I love short forms. I love stories condensed to their essence. Here are some sites that publish some of the shortest fiction ever:

Six Word Stories
5X5 Fiction
Six Word Story Every Day
One Forty Fiction

Enjoy the perfect weekend reading that you can tuck in between other things.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-09-02T08:34:00.002-05:00

1. Can a random nickname generator give me the alter ego I've been hoping for?

2. Why does reconnecting with an old high school friend send me so firmly back into the mindset of my teenage self as if I've done nothing remotely important over the past many, many years?

3. Does anyone eat the butter from the State Fair butter sculptures once the fair is done?

4. I put black-eyed susans on my father's grave this week as if he could still see flowers, smell their fragrance, and run a finger across their petals.

5. There's nothing like taking a walk in the morning and feeling like the air could be parted as if it were the Red Sea. Towel, please?

And your fragments are....?

Happy last Friday of summer vacation. If you haven't taken a day off all summer, what are you waiting for??

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-08-26T08:20:00.000-05:00

1. Human default setting for listening to another person seems to be "selective"

2. Logic should be a separate required course right along with reading, writing, arithmetic

3. Damn. Video games do relieve stress.

4. In spite of a decent amount of travelling, I've never been in an earthquake. Or hurricane.

5. If we'd known sooner that our dog liked to eat Japanese beetles, we could have cut back on dog food this summer. Mmmm, protein.

And your fragments are....?

DO A KIND THING

Duotrope is one of the best free online resources for writers of fiction and poetry, offering information and links to all kinds of places to submit writing. But they exist because of people who volunteer and donate. Check out their site, make a donation if you can, pass it on.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-08-19T08:11:00.002-05:00

1. Food suspended in gelatin is always suspect.

2. When a guy stands in the yellow-line middle of a busy street - say, Lake Street in South Minneapolis - with his tie undone and a pint glass half full of beer in one hand while cars whiz on both sides of him, does he have a death wish or a drunken thrill addiction?

3. Knee-highs with a short black skirt are not a great look for a grown woman no matter how great her body is.

4. Gummy worms don't get enough respect.

5. Mornings at the end of summer: things smell different, the light feels sadder somehow, and the little chill that creeps in makes me glad for sweatshirts.

And your fragments are....?

DO A KIND THING

School is starting up soon and lots of families are going to struggle to outfit their kids for another academic year. Want to help? Then this article at Volunteer Guide is for you:

DONATE SCHOOL SUPPLIES TO A CLASSROOM IN NEED

What a Difference a Year Makes

2011-08-18T17:00:00.001-05:00

Today is my birthday, which makes me happy. It also makes me introspective.

When I think about the past year, I am a little astonished at the difference between how I feel today and how I felt last August 18. That's because last year, I was in the initial throes of the only real depression I've ever had in my life.

Like most of us, I've had lot of ups and downs in my life: less-than-wonderful jobs, one divorce, a kid with a chronic health condition, the deaths of both my parents, siblings who get along far better with other people on the planet than with me. And there's the challenge of being both a writer and an editor, which is enough to give a person emotional whiplash. I grew up in a family where people didn't talk much about mental health issues. We were just supposed to buck up and get through whatever was going on. Oh, and there was no need to air dirty laundry. Thus, I was pretty tight-lipped about the growing feeling that I was ready to get on an iceberg and drift off to sea. But, damn, there are so many things that people have in common that they don't talk about. And when you don't talk about things, you feel like you are the only person in the universe dealing with whatever's in your head. That's not a very good recipe for getting over anything.

Last summer, I remember waking up every morning and wondering if I would get through the day without crying. I figured this feeling would pass, that it was part of peri-menopause, that I just needed to figure out what I was doing wrong. Days stretched into weeks and into months. Everything that didn't go just right was magnified a thousand times. My partner and my kids did not know how to react to me. For that matter, I didn't know how to react to me. When school started in September and my partner went back to teaching while my daughter started 10th grade, I thought I hit the absolute bottom. When they would leave in the morning and I was by myself, I would allow myself to cry, sometimes unable to move for an hour. Even our dogs were worried.

By the time I finally talked to the doctor about it, after spending lots of energy unsuccessfully trying to hide what I was feeling from my family, I couldn't get through an entire sentence without blubbering. Inside, I knew this wasn't me, that something was really wrong. And I was partly right. The slide into menopause wasn't wrong, but I was unprepared for the intensity of the mood swings that come with hormonal fluctuations. That wouldn't have been so awful had it not been paralleled by an emerging hypothyroid condition, the thing was turned out to be wrong. I had no idea that thyroid trouble could include symptoms of depression. Once my doctor ran labs and figured out that my thyroid was slowing down - something she told me is not uncommon among women in peri-menopause - she put me on the lowest dose of thyroid medicine. We talked about how things would settle down and I should start to feel better.

Then came the hard work of coming back to who I am. I really had to get my head around the idea that, yes, I could be depressed, and, yes, there were things I needed to do to take care of that. I talked to a therapist. I wrote poetry every day for 100 days in a row. I changed my exercise habits. I hit the road with a friend and went to the Badlands without partner, without kids. I let go of people who make my life miserable; being a good girl isn't worth it. I admitted that I often don't particularly like doing things that other people my age do; I'd rather be less serious and never get out of my blue jeans while I listen to punk rock. And that doesn't mean I can't deconstruct a text or critique a movie or argue about the social contract, thank you very much. Age is just a number.

If my mother weren't already dead, she would have died reading this bit of dirty laundry. But I think, in retrospect, that she may have had some of the same feelings. I wish she had talked about them. I'm sure as hell going to tell my daughter so she knows that if she's crying every day, she needs to get out of the house and start talking.

Pass it on.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-08-12T07:52:00.000-05:00

1. Do people have sex dreams no matter how old they get?

2. Last night, hazy, full-looking moon; today, developing thunderstorms. Metaphor?

3. Tonight, my daughter is going to a violin recital. Her father and I are going to a blues club. Role reversal?

4. The pumpkin vine, with its big sort of triangular leaves, tons of orange-yellow flowers and little bitty pumpkins just beginning to form, is taking over half the back yard and there are more than two months to go before Halloween. We might be engulfed.

5. The best thing about a rain chain is the way chickadees treat each little cup as their personal water source.

And your fragments are....?

DO A KIND THING

Here's what older (like anyone over 50, especially if you're a woman) people and teenagers have in common: what they say often gets dismissed. One group is viewed as too old to know what's happening right now and the other as too young to understand the implications of what's going on right now. Seems kind of like they should perhaps bond with each other.

So, first, don't dismiss anyone based on their age alone. They might have something amazing to say. Second, check out this website:

Gray Panthers - Their headers says "Age and Youth in Action". The perfect marriage? Perhaps.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-08-05T08:45:00.001-05:00

This week's poetry/prose launching pads are:

1. Priority is a stress-inducing word

2. Baseball offers itself for way too many metaphors

3. The three baby robins under our deck have eyebrows that rival Gandalf's

4. Sneaking out to a late movie on a Thursday night was a surprisingly popular thing to do

5. Since my computer went in for repair yesterday and the server for the site I work with was overloaded yesterday afternoon, today will go smoothly. The end.

And your fragments are.....?

Happy August.

So, You Want to be an Editor?

2011-08-04T16:26:00.000-05:00

I never planned on being an editor. It's something that I stumbled into by volunteering my time, communicating with people, falling in love with the Internet, and actually caring about what people put in print.

I didn't leave my human emotions in some bin beside my computer when I added the title of editor to my list of that which defines me.

However, there are days when it appears people think I'm less than human. Or, perhaps, that I'm an underdeveloped human. Certainly, I appear to be a less-than-brilliant poetry critic to multitudes who are displeased with my opinions on their work if that opinion is one of the several it takes to get their work rejected.

And, so, here I am, feeling the need to sound off a little bit. Why? Because editors are also writers. Often, we are writers who are submitting our work elsewhere and we get to feel the sting of rejection as often as anyone else who submits work in a market where competition is stiff and tempers are short. And editors have the pleasure of reading a lot of whatever it is they edit (poetry, in my case), which means they are very aware of the quality of what is out there. It doesn't take long to develop an eye for work that has been carefully put together versus that which has been slapped down on the page without another glance.

As much as I love the way the Internet has changed how people send submissions, it is much easier than it was in the age of snail mail exclusivity to send work that isn't ready for public consumption. And it is far easier for someone to let their knee-jerk reaction to a rejection of something they are sure is ready for an audience be sent to the editorial staff that felt otherwise.

The point is this: we are all, editors and writers, in this publishing world together. We all do the best we can. No one is out to get anyone. We're here because we love words; we love their sounds, their feel as they roll off our tongues, the way they can be manipulated to call up a specific image or emotion. We love the way words incite others to action or soothe a manic soul. Sometimes we trip over each other with conflicting visions of how words should be strung together. But our goals are probably far more similar than they are at odds.

If you have any doubts, go volunteer your time as a slush reader somewhere. It will be quite an eye-opening experience.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-07-29T10:20:00.002-05:00

Another week, another round up of thoughts that might spark something....use them as you will.

1. No matter how old I get, Friday night is still a date night.

2. Those damn Japanese beetles better let go of my birch trees while there are still some leaves left.

3. Next week = house guests.

4. "Debt ceiling" is a term that never fails to make me think I'm going to hit my head when I stand up.

5. Hanging beetles traps is an ugly business when the beetles hit me in the head on their way to find the pheromone source.

And your fragments are....?

If you can't write something this weekend, make sure it's because you're outside enjoying this last weekend of July.

This Summer's Onslaught

2011-07-28T10:55:00.000-05:00

The continual onslaught of stuff occasionally builds up to something completely unmanageable. I've been tossing old papers and magazines from my office and helping my daughter sort through items left from when she was little. We've filled garbage bags, the recycling bin, a bag for the Goodwill. It's a good feeling to free up space, be done with items that have no place in our lives right now. And it's nice to send the usable things to someone else who might be delighted with them.

But I didn't really plan on getting rid of the leaves on our back yard birch trees.

Say hello to the Japanese beetle infestation of 2011. These crazy-looking iridescent beetles are munching their way through a stand of five river birch, leaving behind lacy-patterned leaves in spite of applying insecticide at the tree bases to try to save them. I stood under the trees with a long rake to knock beetles off branches this morning and was bombarded with the little beasts.

Good thing I'm not terribly squeamish. What I am is angry that these critters have decided my trees make a nice smorgasbord and they outnumber us enough that attempts to get rid of them seem futile. Sure, they have to eat, but not here.

We've gardened a long time and haven't had many problems with infestations other than occasional leaf mold or aphids. One summer brought leaf hoppers and we had to pull out a lot of coneflowers. Our garden has always recovered and the damage has never been terribly wide-spread.

This is different. The beetles are changing the landscape in the back yard for months to come (there won't be a great display of yellow leaves here this fall) and they poop an awful lot if the one that landed on my shoulder this morning is any indication.

Okay, I may be a little squeamish.

Now, if I were very Zen-like or otherwise philosophical, I might take this opportunity to consider what kind of metaphor these uninvited guests who have ravaged the birch trees - and my daughter's potted strawberry plants - might provide for a life lesson on what we think we can control. Right?

But no. I am, instead, off to the garden center to find some really lethal beetle traps.

If you're fighting a similar battle, talk to me.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-07-22T08:00:00.000-05:00

1. Finally, a morning without air conditioning...I really missed fresh air.

2. How similar is a poem to a well-focused photo?

3. What is it about pasta that invites people to linger around the dinner table until the bowl is empty?

4. I don't use nearly enough nutmeg.

5. I've gone to three parades so far this summer and that's three more than I went to all of last year....I might be done now.

And your fragments are....?

Stay cool.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-07-15T09:27:00.001-05:00

1. I love waking to a thunderstorm.

2. Midnight movies are fun no matter how old you are.

3. How do I define magic?

4. Today I will babysit and cook and feel utterly domestic. How did that happen?

5. Who would I lay down my life for?

And your fragments are....?

Happy Friday.

My Summer Restlessness Post

2011-07-12T14:27:00.000-05:00

Summer, for me, used to be all about lethargy. Languidness. Endless afternoons with sun that baked exposed skin.

It also used to be about getting in the car, packed to withstand a few weeks on the road, and heading out. No destination in particular. The destination, rather, was a place waiting for discovery, a place that would make itself apparent when it was stumbled upon. Literally stumbled upon - not with the click of a mouse, but with two feet aimed at a path that might have dust and rocks and mouse droppings.

Those are the kind of summers I grew up with. Lazy travel, lawn chairs, the sounds of planes droning in a deep blue August sky like dragonflies from another realm. The discovery of places that emerged around the next bend in the road. Beer and soda in glass bottles on the back step at dusk. My parents were not privileged people - my father was a federal civil servant and my mother did not have an outside job most of the time when I was growing up - but they understood the need to change their routines at least once a year. That we got in the car and hit the road without reservations, without cell phones, without a plan other than a date by which we had to be back home so Dad could go back to work, is something no one I know now does.

I remember one summer, when I was 13, when my parents got in the car while debating which way to head - south to where my Aunt Marion lived, west where my sister Trish had relocated, or east where New York City beckoned. Dad put his key into the ignition and started the engine while they were still discussing the pros and cons of one direction over another. The west got cut fairly quickly because we had been that way many summers in a row. We were on the freeway heading through downtown St. Paul when they sort of chose to go east by default. We were already on I-94 anyway, so what the hell.

That was one of the best trips ever. We meandered through Milwaukee and Chicago, stopped at the sand dunes in Indiana, walked the Notre Dame University campus. We drifted through Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York, stopped at Niagara Falls during a huge cloudburst, found our way to Boston and nearly did not find our way back out, ended up at a motel in Mamaroneck (or was it Scarsdale? Hmm.) and took a train into New York City. My first view of what would become one of my favorite cities in the world was through a train window and then from the steps of Grand Central Station. We found a tour bus and got oriented to the city on the bus ride, with stops at the classic places: Empire State Building, Chinatown, United Nations, St. Patrick's Cathedral. We found the Staten Island ferry and got on it. We walked endlessly. The next day, my dad decided driving in New York City wouldn't be all that bad and so he did. We got lost in Harlem, where Dad rolled down his window to ask directions at the same time Mom rolled hers up and locked her door. Later, we accidentally got in the tunnel that goes to New Jersey but nobody cared. We kept going as far as we could down the East Coast until it was time to turn around and go home. The last two days were spent pounding the road for long stretches so Dad wouldn't be late for work. His delight at having logged several thousand miles on his car lasted all winter.

There is a lot of comfort to knowing where I'm going to put my head at night. But there's also a certain luxury to being free enough and lucky enough to have an adventure during which I report to no one. And I can't remember the last time I was completely unplugged by choice.

It must be time. I'll just go pack the smallest of bags.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-07-08T09:03:00.004-05:00

These summer weeks are going by too fast.

1. Watching the Tour de France brings up the time we were in Paris at the end of July and lost weight just by sweating and I know I'd do that again in a minute.

2. There was a laundromat just down the street from our Paris hotel where a really fit guy in purple underwear stood just outside the door while all his other pieces of clothing, apparently, were in the washing machine.

3. My 87-year-old father-in-law is going to a baseball game with my husband this weekend and I hope he has the good sense to eat a brat.

4. I'm going to stop watching news in the morning for a while so I can set a different tone for the day.

5. Why can't grown-ups, who teach their kids about compromise, do that very thing themselves?

DO A KIND THING

The 28th annual National Night Out is Tuesday, August 2, so start your planning and get to know your neighbors better by actually talking to them in a face-to-face kind of way.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-07-01T08:45:00.000-05:00

Ah....summer. Clearly on my mind.

1. Stinkin' hot summer nights make me feel sexy until I pass by a mirror....rats.

2. Hot humid air that presses against my skin makes me remember summers when I was a kid, being outside where my mother wasn't....

3. Crickets sound more inviting in the dark

4. Lush monarda blooms around the 4th of July like fire works frozen on green stems

5. Languid hours and bare legs belong to July but so does frizzy hair just to keep things balanced

And your fragments are....?

Happy Canada Day. Happy July 4th. Find a beach.

Leave My Books Alone Unless You're Actually Going to Read One

2011-06-29T18:36:00.000-05:00

So, after two failed attempts at writing a decent blog post this morning (one on why I don't act my age and one on online role-playing game addiction), I decided to drink whiskey and eat pretzels on my deck while I read a magazine. Yes, this is certainly a part of my creative process. Did you have any doubts?

Then, there in front of me was my blog topic. While reading an article on home decorating (shallow, yes indeed), I stumbled across a tip I know I've seen before: Remove the dust jackets from your books and arrange them according to color.

My reaction was to choke on a pretzel, then take a really big gulp of my Jameson. That particular decorating tip will NEVER be enacted at my house.

Let me give you some background. I have a ton of books. Novels, poetry, nonfiction. Maps, manuals, comic books. Books on gardening, first aid, feminism, bike repair, house maintenance, photography, editing, HTML, and world politics. Humor, parody, memoir, and memoir that lies through its teeth.

And all those books are organized more or less by category. If I took off the dust jackets and arranged everything by color, I would have a plethora of blue, black, and red books. I'd never again be able to locate the one I want in under 30 minutes.

Decorators [insert snort here]. Do they seriously read? With all due respect, there are plenty of other things that can be organized by color, like plates and socks. Maybe eyeshadow. Pillows. That kind of stuff.

Leave the books alone. Let them tell visitors about something other than your skill at color coordination.

WOW! Women On Writing Blog: 30 Blog Topics For Writers

2011-06-24T12:00:00.000-05:00

WOW! Women On Writing Blog: 30 Blog Topics For Writers

Just in time for my shift in direction - this is a great posting for anyone who's interested. Check it out.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-06-24T08:52:00.000-05:00

Finally, a sunny morning that feels like summer....what a great thing to wake up to.

1. Sleeping later now means till 8 a.m. That's what I get for owning dogs.

2. I remember not wanting to wake up because the dream I was having was soooo good. Sadly, I can't remember what it was actually about.

3. It's probably okay to just remember the feeling and not the actual event.

4. Yanking out errant plants that act like marauders in the garden is pretty good therapy since we can't really do that with people.

5. When an 18-year-old kid without a conscience gets a lifetime prison sentence for murder, is that kid's parent relieved that he'll finally be contained?

And your fragments are....?

Off to read a newspaper. Drink coffee. That sort of thing.

Summer Solstice Marks the Turn

2011-06-22T13:43:00.000-05:00

One Minnesota Writer needs to go in a different direction. I thought it was sort of amusing that I had ideas about changing this blog in sync with the arrival of the solstice yesterday. I am contemplating what else I can do as daylight begins its temporarily imperceptible ebb.

Ebbing has been on my mind a lot this past year. My daughter just finished her sophomore year in high school and is starting to look at which colleges offer the things she's interested in. She'll be out the door in two years. My son just had a child of his own in May. My hair is turning gray. Hell, even the dog's hair is turning gray. It feels like time is shifting away from me in an unfamiliar way, eroding the very ground beneath me as it pulls back. And I wonder, in this youth-oriented culture of ours, how many people there are out there who, like me, haven't thought much about how old they are until recently. Inside, I feel pretty much like I did when I was 21 except for the fact that my thought process is more thorough and I'm braver now.

Part of the past year has been a struggle to balance what I think I should be writing with what I want to do or think I should be doing. Writing about creative process was one way to try to get the balance in order. But, I realized this week that I don't want to write about writing anymore. Who really cares? There are a million blogs that do that, that give advice and write how-to articles and invite wannabe writers to chime in. What I really want to write about is the very thing that consistently distracts me from my work right now.

Which is that my daughter Abby is growing into a woman and my relevance is not as critical as it was even a year ago. Which is that soon I'll be living here alone with my partner. Well, and the dogs if you count them. My parents are already gone, so the number of people who need or want something from me is going to drop off as sharply as the Cliffs of Moher.

So, these next two years are sort of the last chance to make a big impact before Abby throws clothes all over the floor of some other bedroom in some other house. Or hogs up the shower while a line of roommates is waiting. Or runs out of money before the rent is due. Or falls in love and discovers that rejection is one of the most awful things ever.

This mother-daughter bond is a strong, elastic thing. It has to be stretchy with all the push-pull that goes into a relationship with a teenager who lives in the moment. Or a mother who can't shut off her long-term vision. What I know for sure is that this bond is one of the strongest bonds I've had in my life, along with the bond I have with my son. And it's completely different from the bond I have with my partner, who (one hopes) isn't going to grow up and move out. The poignancy and wistfulness of the situation sometimes takes my breath away. Anything else that might seem important suddenly isn't.

So, the hell with trying to share what I know about writing. Blame those writing prompts I've started posting on Fridays - I'm going to follow my own prompts for a while and write about life. And, yeah, I'll still share the ones that pop up on Friday because it's kind of quirky and fun. But when they stop being fun, there'll be something else.

Life is, after all, constant revision.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-06-17T00:06:00.000-05:00

1. Sometimes, the later you stay up, the clearer it all becomes.

2. Will a hatchet with a knife in the handle really protect anyone during the zombie apocalypse?

3. A full moon on a summer night is one of the best things ever to stare at while the dog does her nighttime elimination, but no one ever asks about that sort of thing.

4. I am not particularly fascinated with pirates.

5. There are goodbye kisses. There are hello kisses. There should be you-watched-me-clip-my-toenails-on-the-bed-and-you're-still-here kisses.

And your fragments are....?

CHECK IT OUT

It's been a nice couple of weeks.

5X5 Fiction came out with Issue Two: Secrets, Scuffles and Surprises.

And Boston Literary Magazine's summer issue, which just happens to also be their fifth anniversary issue, just came out online with the print version to be available very soon.

And, yes, I have a piece in each publication, which is an honor given all the other wonderful writers who are also published in both places. Have a look.

Summer Reading: The Postmistress by Sarah Blake

2011-06-14T13:14:00.000-05:00

Okay, so school's out, it's warmed up (here in Minnesota where we wait for such things), and you're feeling languid. You need a good book.

So, think of this blog as one of those times when someone says, "Psst! You have to read this." And then a book with the spine already cracked is pressed into your hands with a sense of urgency, a secret command that you know you'll obey.

My friend Sonja pressed Sarah Blake's The Postmistress into my hands a couple of weeks ago along with the question, "Are you reading anything right now? I loved this." At least, I think that's what she said, given that it was the end of the school year and we were both running ourselves silly with kids' activities and graduation party plans and dreams of grilled dinners under hot evening skies. What I am clear about is Sonja's belief that this book was worth reading, that it would make me pay attention.

And it did. Enough that I have to pass it on to you.

The Postmistress is written with a poet's touch. The language is beautiful, the descriptions are deadly accurate without giving it all away. The story, set in 1940-41, revolves around three women whose lives are altered because of the events in World War II Europe and how those around them came to eventually believe the stories of Jews being rounded up by the Nazis. The story asks the hard questions of whether one should do more than bear witness in a time of war, what it means to leave those who depend on you to go help someone else, how people deal with loss and carry on. It asks what it really is to be a hero. Do you go on with your insular daily life when people elsewhere are being bombed into oblivion?

The three women in the story see World War II through very different lenses. One is a doctor's wife and she doesn't fully understand when he is determined to go to England to help victims of the Blitz. One is the postmaster of the small town where the doctor and his wife have their home, and she is the nonjudgmental funnel for all news that comes to her fellow townspeople. The third woman is a journalist who goes to Europe and sees people being rounded up, sees their lives taken from them, and tries to collect voices so that Americans will be compelled to do something. These women could be plopped right down into our own era, with different wars but similar atrocities, similar questions about what it all means and what our responsibilities are.

Even though the topic is heavier than standard summer beach reading, the beautifully-written story is one that will pull you in on a summer afternoon. Go read it.

Special Post: I'm in 5X5 Fiction Issue Two

2011-06-10T23:24:00.000-05:00

My story, Gardening, made it into Issue Two of 5X5 Fiction. Check it out here: http://5x5fiction.blogspot.com/2011/06/5x5-fiction-presents-issue-two-secrets.html

There are 25 stories of 25 words each (5 lines, each line with 5 words).

Come check out this short short short fiction format.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-06-10T08:30:00.000-05:00

Absolutely written upon waking today:

1. Rain sounds lovely through the open windows when I first wake.

2. Last day of school for my daughter means I have to keep my promise about getting donuts.

3. I love hosting guests from other countries.

4. Humidity. Oh boy. Another super-curly-hair day. I hate that.

5. Our house guest shaves his head. Why isn't that generally accepted for women?

And your fragments are....?

DO A KIND THING

As I was cleaning up the kitchen counter this morning, to make room for the donuts that I really did go out and buy at 6:15 a.m., I came across two thank-you notes that had arrived over the past couple of weeks. One note was for a donation my partner and I sent in honor of a friend's father's passing. The other was for sharing plants from our garden with a friend whose own garden needed a few additions. As I re-read these notes, I thought about what a kind thing it is to send someone a hand-written acknowledgement of something they've done that has made a difference to another person. The note about the donation was something I was not surprised to get; people often send thank-you notes for that sort of thing. But the note about digging plants from my garden to give to a friend was completely unexpected and, therefore, delighted me in a completely different way. I thought about other cards I've received recently, particularly one from a friend who was simply glad I had listened.

It may be because I am a writer that these sorts of gestures tend to stick with me. And I'm pretty sure I'm way behind in sending out hand-written notes of my own - I'm much more inclined to write things down online or look people in the eye and say whatever I need to say directly to them. But these seemingly small gestures linger. They matter.

What do you think?

First Five Fragments for Friday - a little late!

2011-06-03T14:34:00.000-05:00

A busy morning means I'm sure to forget something. I remembered that I hadn't posted this as I was grasping a paint brush and considering the best way to paint trim.

Now that I'm paint-free and smell a whole lot better, here are your (and my) Friday fragments.

1. Whoever invented painter's tape was a genius.

2. When I'm awake at 2:00 a.m., I like to look at lightning.

3. Having roofers walking on my roof for the past few days reminds me why I don't want to live on the lower level of an apartment building.

4. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't make spritz cookies in June.

5. I'm done wearing socks until it snows again.

And your fragments are....?

Here's hoping for a good Friday happy hour.

Anything You Hate About Your Medium? Fess Up.

2011-05-31T14:36:00.000-05:00

Recently, I saw some submission guidelines that requested authors to indicate what they liked and did not like about their chosen medium. I was surprised to see this question held out as something to consider before an author sent in work for consideration, but also pleased. Why, really, do any of us want to work in poetry? In essay? In blog, for that matter? It has to be something more than hearing ourselves think.

But what really intrigued me was the question of what we do not like about our chosen forms. What does that kind of questioning do for an author? For any other kind of artist?

1. It might push us to consider other forms.
2. We might discover something about our creative processes that is more telling than whatever we think we don't like about a given form.
3. It might encourage us to challenge that which we don't like in a way that shakes up how we work.
4. It makes us consider if the trade-off - what we like versus what we don't like - is really worth it.

Since we usually prefer to think of why we love our chosen mediums, here is something I came across in, "A Conversation with Martha Collins," in the summer 2011 issue of The Writer's Chronicle. Collins said that what made her fall in love with poetry was, "I discovered writing in which I did not have to know what I was going to say when I started." I would add that this could be true of any art form in which the creative process is really working. We start with the wisp of an idea and it takes shape as we work with it.

And you? What do you love and what do you not love about writing in any form? Chime in.

DO A KIND THING

Looking for something to do on Father's Day? How about stepping up for kids? On Sunday, June 19, consider taking part in the Children's Advocacy Center Walk - Step Up for Kids! The event is designed raise awareness of the incidence of child abuse in our communities and the agencies who work to make a difference in the lives of abused kids. For more information, please visit these websites:

Children's Advocacy Center Walk - Step up for Kids!
CornerHouse
Midwest Children's Resource Center
Minnesota Children's Alliance

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-05-27T08:15:00.000-05:00

The last bunch of fragments for May.....

1. My daughter finally learned to drink coffee as of yesterday. Will she ever sleep again?

2. Who knew trumpet players get numb lips?

3. Even years after graduation, I still feel like someon'e always watching when I sit in a high school auditorium.

4. Modern grandparents carry their grandbabies' photos on cell phones. Beats those plastic wallet inserts.

5. Whatever happened to saying, "Outta sight"?

And your fragments are....?

DO A KIND THING

Here in Minnesota, we get tornadoes. The whole north side of Minneapolis was hit hard last Sunday and hundreds of people have damaged or unlivable homes, power lines and trees are still down, people are scrambling in shelters and finding beds at the homes of friends or relatives.

But we are lucky compared to people in Joplin, Missouri, and other hard-hit areas of the midsection of the U.S.

So, here are some links to places that can use help, if you're so inclined:

Information on how to help in the Minneapolis area

Information on how to help in the Joplin area

American Red Cross

Happy Friday, everyone.

Recipes for Poets

2011-05-20T08:32:00.001-05:00

Today's the day that One Minnesota Writer joins other writers, at the invitation of 32 Poems, in posting a recipe that is both healthy and quick in the spirit of good time management for busy writers. Enjoy. And visit 32 Poems to see all the other links for some delicious ideas.

Sausage-Veggie-Rice Stuff I Make When I'm in a Hurry

1 turkey kielbasa
1 medium green bell pepper
1 large tomato
1 medium onion
1-2 cloves of garlic
1-2 stalks of celery
about 2 tbsp olive oil

1 cup long grain white rice
1 1/2 cups water
1 tsp instant low-sodium chicken broth

Tabasco sauce (optional)

Bring the 1 1/2 cups water to a boil in a saucepan. Add instant chicken broth; wait for it to dissolve, then add rice. Stir quickly, cover, reduce heat to low. Cook for 17 minutes, then remove from heat and let sit for about 5 minutes.

While the rice is cooking, slice the turkey kielbasa into bite-sized pieces. Thinly slice pepper, onion, celery, and tomato. Mince garlic.

Heat olive oil in large saute pan over medium-high heat. When it is hot, toss in garlic, onion, pepper, celery. Cook, stirring constantly, till tender-crisp; about 2 minutes. Add kielbasa; cook and stir about two more minutes. Add tomatoes; cover, reduce heat to low, and cook till heated through - about 2-3 more minutes.

Serve kielbasa and vegetables over cooked rice. Add a dash of Tabasco if you want a little heat.

_________________________

Fast elegance = boneless, skinless chicken breasts cut in half, pounded to 1/4" thickness, and sauteed with some minced garlic for 2-3 per side in olive oil, then sprinkled with salt, pepper, and basil. Serve with instant couscous - it cooks in five minutes. Get the tricolor kind and add instant chicken broth to the couscous water for a bit more flavor. Add some salad from a bag of pre-washed greens and you're done!

Open a bottle of wine, while you're at it. This might get you a date.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-05-20T08:23:00.000-05:00

Get your thoughts rolling.

1. I can't believe that stupid Fridays video song is actually stuck in my head first thing in the morning. Gaaah!!

2. So, the grocery store should be way less crowded after tomorrow. How rapturous.

3. Looting, anyone?

4. Bleeding hearts are such a sad name for such a beautiful flower.

5. New baby in the family. Those tiny little feet. Sigh.

And your fragments are...?

DO A KIND THING - SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL ARTISTS

Northeast Minneapolis Art-a-Whirl information here. It's simply the best art crawl ever.

Revision and (re)Vision

2011-05-19T08:57:00.000-05:00

When you get a revision request from an editor, do you limit your (re)vision to only what the editor mentioned? Or, do you allow yourself to open up that (re)vision to a broader idea, cognizant of the fact that an editor sometimes only mentions things as a way to get you to re-think your work?

The idea that revision is really a new vision of a piece of work seems to be a foreign concept for many new writers. This was brought to my attention once again as I looked at a writer's response to a suggestion that he might consider a second round of revision on a submitted poem. He said that there were requests in this second round that weren't mentioned the first time through and, so, he decided he was done.

Which, of course, is a valid choice. But, what struck me was his choice to limit his idea of revision to only the suggestions the editors mentioned rather than taking those suggestions and going forward, beyond.

This is tricky territory because, sometimes, editors really do mean for a writer to stick with exactly the area the editors have pointed out. And that is when editors need to be very clear about their suggestions and whether that means they will take a piece if "A" is revised to "B" or whether they really want the author to plunge deeper into the work to see what they can tease out.

If you are working with an editor or a team of editors who welcome your questions, take advantage of that and ask them what they mean if it's not clear. There are not a lot of publications with staff who will give a writer that sort of feedback, so don't ignore your opportunities. Consider editors' suggestions, when they are given in the spirit of genuine, honest, and educated criticism, as a gift. Editors see a lot more of other people's raw work than you do.

Your friends, after all, probably aren't going to be that careful with your work because it's not their job. Their job is to love you no matter what.

Now go shake up something and see what happens.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-05-13T14:29:00.000-05:00

Glad Blogger is back up and running. It seemed like a long morning!

And for Friday the 13th we have….

1. How much of the old superstition that 13 is an unlucky number still exists?

2. My son and his wife just might have their baby today and that would be lucky, not unlucky.

3. So, if you're invited to a meeting in Chicago and accept, only to discover someone's idea of Chicago is really Schaumburg, does that teach you to ask more questions before you say yes next time?

4. Why do so many people equate unbearably schlocky gooey-ooey barfy writing with how to describe something romantic?

5. I never get tired of pizza or coffee but they can't both be in the same meal. Ick.

And your fragments are…..?

DO A KIND THING

Last Sunday, on Mother's Day, I participated in my first Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure (well, in my case, it was a 5K walk….okay, stroll….with friends) in Bloomington, Minnesota. It was absolutely astonishing to see the thousands of participants and get a different perspective on breast cancer's vast impact. If you have ever walked around the block, you can do this. There are events all over the county in any given month. Go here to check it out. Do it for every woman you know. And men, too, come to think of it.

Here are some photos from the walk.

The Tutus for Ta-tas group

My daughter waiting for things to get moving

People as far as we could see joined in

Go Read Something You Don't Think You'll Love

2011-05-09T15:16:00.000-05:00

When was the last time you willingly read a book that you never would have chosen on your own? I'm not talking about the material that you have to read for work, whatever that may be. And maybe you read stuff you didn't choose because you're taking a class or you're in a book group, but most of us probably stick to books that pull us in somehow by their covers, their titles, the synopsis on the book jacket. We stick to books that we think we're going to like.

Every once in a while, though, it might be a good idea to shake it up. Take a leap and dive into something you never would have read if left to your own devices.

So, now you might be wondering if I actually follow my own advice. Yes. Yes, I do. I just finished reading the graphic novel, Watchmen, by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons, that my daughter's boyfriend loaned us. I know, it's been around for a long time and, really, how come I haven't read this already, hmm? Because I didn't think I'd like graphic novels. Ever. I always viewed them as glorified comic books. Stuff high school kids read. Stuff that people outgrow.

And, guess what? I actually read it twice because I was enchanted with the way so many story lines could coexist on the page, with the use of metaphor, with the way big questions were given serious consideration. Oh, yeah, and I kind of liked the sci-fi philosophy feel of it all.

The point here is that I think we all sometimes get stuck in our definitions of what makes a good book and that makes it easy to dismiss a whole bunch of ways of making a good story. If you, like me, were brought up on the standard English canon, it's pretty easy to miss things like graphic novels altogether. In this particular case, I don't mind being proven wrong.

UPDATE:

Over at 32 Poems, there's a Recipes for Poets update that lists participating poets' blogs. Find it here. In case you missed it in my earlier posting, Recipes for Poets is an online event on May 20 when participants will post their favorite 20-30 minute recipes on their blogs. We don't live on words alone, apparently.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-05-06T07:43:00.000-05:00

Welcome back to my weekly first fragments feature.

Nothing like keeping a notebook beside the bed. It works.

Today's fragments:

1. T-shirts for the breast cancer walk - gotta go pick them up this morning so I'll be appropriately attired on Sunday. This will be an interesting way to celebrate Mother's Day.

2. Early run to school this morning - end-of-year morning orchestra group party that my daughter is part of. I hate getting her out of bed early.

3. My kid lettered in orchestra. I never lettered in anything. That's all right.

4. Waiting waiting waiting for my son and his wife to have their baby. Do they really know what they're in for? Do any of us?

5. Cooking while waiting works for me. The freezer is full.

There were more fragments that trailed off the page this morning. That's the thing about making myself - or yourself! - jot things down right away at the start of the day. Mundane things roll out, but then there's all this stuff behind it that is usable.

And your fragments are......?

Tell me what you put those fragments in if you're so inclined.

Waiting

2011-05-03T15:01:00.000-05:00

There's going to be a new baby in our family. My son and daughter-in-law are expecting their daughter to make her grand entrance any moment. And life will change for all of us.

It's been a long time since any of us were around a baby on a daily basis. This little tiny person has been anticipated for months, has been planned for and talked about and imagined in all kinds of ways. She has all kinds of people waiting around with open arms and laps and hugs and kisses.

Here's hoping she likes us.

That's the first thing that makes it hard to stay at the computer these days.

Spring has been hesitant to make a commitment around here. Minnesota is unpredictable anyway; this year, we're all pretty weary of emerging to cold blasts in our faces when we head outside in the morning. But today there is blue sky and a freaky little rabbit stretched out in the sunshine beneath one of our shrubs in the back yard, rolled around, and then just hung out in the dirt like some surfer on the sand at Venice Beach, which made me laugh. Can a rabbit be a slacker?

I opened the window a little while ago. I can hear neighborhood dogs bark every once in a while and an army of birds are chattering amongst themselves. Our own mini dachshund is perched atop the chair closest to the window. Like the aforementioned rabbit, she is stretched out in the sun, eyes half open.

This is the second thing that makes it hard to stay at the computer.

We had a contractor here last night to talk to us about our roof. We're getting a new one and it's going to be steel. We had to go look at some in our area that our contractor had installed, so that's how I spent my lunch hour - driving myself and my partner around to look at roofs. It was a nice day for this kind of thing, so neither of us minded.

Now, I have images of roofs bouncing around in my head. And there's the third thing that makes it hard to stay at the computer.

None of this takes into account all the affairs of the world that swirl around us, clamoring for our attention as well they should.

What I am doing today is simply waiting. While I wait, I want to share a poem from one of my favorite poets - Lawrence Ferlinghetti. It is, naturally, called, "I am Waiting". Enjoy it here.

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-04-29T07:48:00.000-05:00

Last week, I began a new feature: first morning fragments. Once a week, I'll post my own random thoughts that pop up first thing in the morning in the hope that you might remember some of your own and use them to spark a new piece of work. Hey, it happens.

1. Who else has dinner guests that check their dogs' toenails and teeth? This is what we get for hanging out with veterinarians.

2. Oh, yeah. The royal wedding.

3. Classical music is a great alarm clock for gentle waking. Unfortunately, I do not want to actually get out of bed.

4. I get to pay my speeding ticket today. That I got it driving home from a Gary Snyder poetry reading strikes me as just a little funny.

5. When I first wake up, I forget that I'm near-sighted. Cool.

And your fragments are....?

REMINDER! Every Day Poets' Explosives Week competition closes this Sunday. Go to http://www.everydaypoets.com for the latest.

Time Management Issues? Take a Peek at 32 Poems

2011-04-26T11:42:00.000-05:00

Today I was checking out the blog over at 32 Poems and stumbled on a post about time management.

Before you click on your mouse or track pad because reading someone else's blog might be questionable time managment, let me tell you why you should keep reading.

32 Poems is organizing those of us who write and cook (not at the same time - let's not set our kitchens or our work on fire due to extreme multitasking) to post our favorite 20-30 minute recipes on our blogs/websites on May 20. If interested, go to the 32 Poems blog post, Recipes for Poets, add your name and url, and indicate that you want to participate. Further directions are on the blog post.

We all have to eat to keep working, right? And we have to work to eat. So check it out yourself.

On a different note, the Every Day Poets How to Handle Explosives Week competition will close on Sunday, May 1. If you still haven't submitted an entry, then time management is clearly something you might want to think about! Go here for more information.

Finally, if you have been having a great time creating poems during National Poetry Month, you might be interested in perusing the #poettues Tweets on Twitter every Tuesday. All kinds of poets join in the conversation and share information. It's a nice way to feel like you're not laboring over your verse in a vacuum.

Now, what will you do to wrap up National Poetry Month? Leave a comment!

First Five Fragments for Friday

2011-04-22T08:41:00.001-05:00

When I woke up this morning, like most mornings, fragmented thoughts shot through my mind one after the other before my eyes were completely open. There are always a few moments when there is no editor to fetter what flits across the movie screen that is my brain before I put my feet on the floor and leave sleep behind.

Often, this is where I get my best ideas. (The other places are in the shower and on late-night dog walks, but that's another column.) When I worked through Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way, the morning pages were my favorite thing, although it was sometimes hard to spew three pages of writing before I did anything else with my day. But these fragmented thoughts that I have upon waking often show up later in a poem, a blog post, or some other creative project.

So, what I propose to do for upcoming Fridays, is offer some of my first thoughts as prompts for poetry, prose, painting....pick your project. (Fear not, this abundance of alliteration is only for today.) They may not always make sense, but that's part of the challenge.

Swipe these prompts and maybe you can sleep in longer than I do.

1. The guy who wears the owl costume in Watchmen is a hoot and who taught me this awful humor?
2. What would I do if someone told me my son was accidentally disintegrated?
3. It's Earth Day and I should send Michele Bachmann all my old incandescent lightbulbs
4. Is that a duck on the roof next door? Yes, yes it is.
5. I love it when the first thing my feet touch is a dog hair-dust bunny. Ick.

Readings: Give one, Go to One

2011-04-20T12:09:00.000-05:00

Over the past couple of weeks, I've gone to a lot of arts events: a live paint, the poignant destruction of unsold art, two pops concerts in which my daughter performed, Record Store Day that included live music, two poetry readings.

One of those poetry readings was given by poetry icon Gary Snyder. The other one was given by me.

Not that there's any comparison. And I am glad that I saw Gary Snyder after I gave my own reading or I may not have read. I would have been too busy thinking that I'll never be that beloved, never be at that level of literary skill, never be that comfortable in front of a room full of people who are there to listen to me.

Oh, the ways I can completely derail myself.

But I'm here to tell you that there's nothing like reading your own work to an audience to shake up how you see what you've done. In my case, the reading was a private affair at a friend's house. This meant I knew everyone in the audience. Before the reading began, I thought about how I would rather read to a bunch of people I didn't know. I sure as hell didn't want my friends and family to think poorly of what I did as a writer or have them discover that I'm not at all the person they thought I was. What if they decided they really didn't ever want to hear or read anything of mine again once this reading was over? What if I embarrassed my kids or my partner? Or the person who hosted the evening?

Naturally, the only remedy was to have a bit of Irish whiskey and plunge into the reading anyway.

The good news is that no one fell asleep. No one wretched. They all actively listened, asked questions, said nice things. My kids are still speaking to me. I got some feedback that helps me figure out what's ready to submit and what needs to simmer longer. I deliberately chose to read only one thing that had been published and eight pieces that were new or newly revised.

And I would do it again. It's way more interesting than sitting alone in my office, staring at the latest version of a poem that I've revised sixteen times, and it's more rewarding than feedback from an online forum. I got to look people in the eye.

Now, fast-forward a couple of days to the Gary Snyder reading, which took place at Plymouth Congregational Church in Minneapolis in front of at least a thousand people. The atmosphere inside the church was crackly with expectation, an amazing thing for a poetry reading. Snyder, who has been writing for more than fifty years, was at ease as he read poems both old and new, told stories, encouraged people to be more thoughtful in their relationship with this shared planet (perfect since Earth Day is nigh), and generally enchanted the audience. He spoke for close to an hour and a half, and people listened.

That's what happens after a lifetime of following one's art: people really want to hear the voice behind that art. A reading shifts from being the place to try out new things to the place to celebrate what you've accomplished.

And the artist and audience still get to look each other in the eye.

So, while there's still some of National Poetry Month left, back away from your computer. Go read your work to someone. Then find a reading to attend.

Do it right now.

After the Execution/Starting Over

2011-04-06T17:10:00.000-05:00

I did not begin 2011's National Poetry Month with poetry. On Friday, April 1, I witnessed destruction at the closing reception for "Execute Rogue Citizen" at Gallery 13 in Minneapolis. The four artists who make up Rogue Citizen set up a tent and took an axe to unsold artwork. People in attendance had the chance to pardon condemned artwork at the last minute. Many thought Rogue Citizen was pulling an April Fools' prank; they were shocked when Rogue Citizen artist Shawn Dalsen donned an executioner's hood and brought the axe down upon the first piece of art that failed to win a pardon. Dalsen, along with fellow Rogue Citizens Eric Mattheis, Matt McGorry, and Matt Wells, offered up "Execute Rogue Citizen" as a comment on the American justice system as well as an illustration of what happens when people fail to value something that should be valued, like people's lives and the expressions of those lives. It was dramatic, noisy, astonishing, and effective.

This is how artists can wield their influence. As sure as Dalsen swung that axe, the people in attendance had to have some kind of reaction. It's impossible to witness ear-splitting demolition without response, whether the response is around the political question of how justice is handed out or the more personal question of how an artist can destroy that which is part of them. Annihilation forces people to consider how things might be different and what their role is in a new order of things. Do we stand by? Do we act? Do we allow things to be thrown out and start over?

I am utterly stuck on the idea of throwing things out and starting over when that is a legitimate option. Why? I don't know about you, but when I try to rework something, whether it's a poem or an essay or the way I exercise my authority as a parent/editor/citizen, sometimes I cannot step back far enough to make any real changes. What's already there has become too precious; I can't give it up even if I know it could be better. That's when the value of tossing out whatever it is and starting all over becomes evident: the elimination of a work of art or a system - not people, mind you - leaves space for creativity to explode.

This idea is the one I'll be wrestling with for National Poetry Month. I will not be taking an axe to my computer, but I will be making good use of the "delete" key as I work through poems sitting comfortably on my hard drive. If they are too comfortable, they're clearly not doing their job and neither am I.

PAYING IT FORWARD:

My colleague Constance Brewer is writing some interesting posts for National Poetry Month over at Life on The Periphery. Please go check her out here.

National Poetry Month is Looming - What Are Your Plans?

2011-03-31T17:42:00.000-05:00

One of my colleagues sent me an email this morning that asked what I was going to do for National Poetry Month. I realized I had been so focused on putting together the April edition of Every Day Poets that I hadn't even thought about that.

But there are poetic things to be done. And questions to ask all of you out there. Well, assuming there is an "all of you out there" who read this and that you aren't all related to me. And if you're reading this and you are related to me, for Pete's sake, forward this to someone I don't know. Please.

And there I go, digressing. I'm really good at that.

Anyway, National Poetry Month, which begins on April 1, offers all kinds of ways to share poetry and let people know that poetry isn't stuffy, elitist, inaccessible, or a rarefied experience. Sure, there is poetry that sometimes seems like a huge exercise is how to be difficult (like T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land" or Ezra Pound's "The Cantos"), but there is also plenty of poetry written in plain language that wastes nothing and hits the jugular (Raymond Carver's "Late Fragment"). So, if you run across someone who equates poetry with extreme boredom, share these links with them.

1. Forget the written word. Try poetry out loud. Go to a poetry slam: http://www.poetryslam.com/index.php?Itemid=39&id=18&layout=blog&option=com_content&view=category

2. Give a kid a place to send their creations. Steer them to Teen Ink: http://teenink.com/poetry/

3. Did I say "forget the written word"? Just kidding. Embrace it through the Academy of American Poets: http://www.poets.org/

4. Jolt your own creative juices. Try out The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron: http://www.theartistsway.com/

As for me, I'll be writing a poem a day all month long. And I might pull my hard copy of The Artist's Way off my bookshelf and take it to the park. Nothing like creating poetry outside in the spring, although this is Minnesota. I might have to bring my mittens with me.

DON'T FORGET THE CALL FOR TARGETED SUBMISSIONS AT EVERY DAY POETS: Deadline for submissions to the How to Handle Explosives Week competition is May 1. Watch for weekly prompts to nudge writers in the right direction at www.everydaypoets.com.

If Only I Cared About What I Wear

2011-03-24T14:33:00.000-05:00

This past Sunday, I visited The Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis and listened to a panel of women writers talk about where they were when they began to take their work seriously, how they find support (both monetary and emotional), what they are working on now, and how life for women who write differs from that of men who write. Some of the women were wearing aprons because they were also holding a bake sale to raise money for The Loft.

That irony was not lost on me.

And where did I go with this in my head as I sat in the audience? Did I spend a lot of time thinking about equality or lack thereof? Did I ponder how lucky I am that I have a partner who supports my creative work no matter what? Did I get my undies in a bunch over fair versus unfair or whether my work is actually any good?

No. I went straight to why I seldom wear an apron when I cook. And I love to cook. That's a lot of shirts I splatter stuff on.

Perhaps that was not the hoped-for take-away message. I pondered this all some more as I sat with my laptop in my own kitchen, not because I'm a woman writer but because the kitchen has a clear view of the living room television so I can have CNN on for background noise while I work at the counter and sit on this great bar stool I have. That, and it's a shorter stroll to the coffee pot. When I get down to the serious work of final revision, I work in my office with DJ Shadow for background noise.

But back to the apron thing.

One of my best friends returned from a Paris-Rome trip this past weekend (I just corrected that sentence: I had typed "pasta weekend", a direct unconscious response to her stop in Rome). She brought me a present. Three guesses?

Skip right over numbers one and two. Three: she brought me an apron. It has all kinds of pictures of Italian wine bottles on it. Naturally, I don't want to get them all dirty since I'm not sure I'll get to Rome myself anytime soon.

So, now I'm thinking that there are probably all kinds of things to do while wearing an apron...like discuss women who write.

I suppose it depends on what one is wearing under the apron.

Food for thought.

Odds and Ends: Submissions, Galleries, Markets

2011-03-18T13:47:00.000-05:00

Spring break does things to me. So does getting a new vehicle. Put both those things together and you have a blogless couple of weeks.

My bad. This is exactly what a decent writer is not supposed to do: give the writing schedule a boot in the behind. But, damn, it felt good to do just that.

So, in my post-St. Patrick's Day stupor and my pre-Friday-night-gallery-opening anticipation, here I am.

If you're not in a spring break frame of mind, consider submitting to Every Day Poets' latest call for submissions. EDP is looking for poetry to go with the July issue's How to Handle Explosives Week. There is a perk: the seven poets whose work is chosen for that week will be offered more space for their bios and the opportunity to say something in-depth about their writing process. Who doesn't like to be showcased? The deadline for this particular call for submissions is May 1, 2011. Standard EDP guidelines do apply; go here for more information (scroll down to the special announcement).

If you're in Minneapolis tonight, treat yourself to an art gallery event: Rogue Citizen, a group of four Minneapolis artists who specialize in live painting and edgy social commentary, will be at the opening reception for their new show, Execute Rogue Citizen, at Gallery 13. Given all that's been going on in the world lately, this show is just the thing to nudge your social conscience to action. And the art's pretty good. I have a personal connection. You'll definitely want to return for R/C's closing reception when all unsold art will be executed. (That's right. Executed. Follow your curiosity.)

If you're in submission mode, find your next market via Duotrope. Duotrope has market for both poetry and prose with links to any publication you're interested in. If you create a free account, you can also track your submissions. They take donations to keep going; well worth it.

Now, if you'll pardon me, it's the last Friday of spring break. Gotta get out of my chair.

RIP Rosie and How to Kill Your Regrettable Poetry

2011-03-01T13:56:00.000-06:00

My day began with the usual: checking Facebook, tweeting about the latest call for submissions from Every Day Poets, checking email, reading slush.

Then I had a conversation with an insurance claims adjuster. My nine-year-old Toyota Rav4, rear-ended a week-and-a-half ago, is a total loss. Rosie (my Rav) must be put to rest at a place called the Total Loss Center (per the American Family Insurance guy I spoke with). Total Loss Center?

This brought a tear to my eye. Both eyes, actually, as I told myself, it's just a car. Just a car. Let it go.

But it was the best vehicle I have ever owned. And now I have to go car shopping, which I HATE. My familiar red four-wheeled companion of the last nine years will leave in a most undignified way without so much as a backward glance while I, ignoring my sense of being unfaithful, test drive something shiny and new, something alluring and utterly without history. Something without dog nose prints on the rear cargo area window. Something without Pop Tart wrappers in the pocket on the back of the driver's seat. Something without winter-crud footprints from teenagers who ride in the back seat most weekends.

Sigh.

Since I can't go anywhere today unless I walk, my thoughts have eventually returned to the writing work at hand. Rosie keeps popping in, though, and she's giving me ideas about how we let things go as I consider what to revise and what to let die. I have visions of a Total Loss Center for bad poetry, where people drop off their verse that just isn't working and someone comes out and says, here, let me burn that for you and you can rest assured no one will ever read this again. That might be a little harder to do with poetry we regret that has already graced the Internet, but maybe a Cyberspace Total Loss Center worm could crawl hungrily around and take bytes out of embarrassing verse until it is gone. We could bid adieu to those words we have become so attached but that, nevertheless, don't work.

Then we can all get out our thesauri and go shopping for shiny new words that say what we want with much more pizazz. And without an insurance claims adjuster, although they might make pretty good editors as they try to figure out what can and can't be fixed.

Now, if I could just make myself to get up and turn off that 1970s Barry Manilow station I have playing on Pandora right now. I'm at a total loss as to what I was thinking.

DO A SUBMISSION THING

Okay, if you've read this far, you deserve the link to that call for submissions I mentioned above. Here it is: www.everydaypoets.com/march-table-of-contents/

EDP is running a contest that encourages you to blow things apart…figuratively speaking. Check it out, pay it forward.

Life is a Powder Keg

2011-02-22T15:50:00.000-06:00

In the past few days, my life has exploded with stories.

1. My daughter-in-law's grandpa passed away. My son will be a pallbearer for the first time in his life.

2. My vehicle got rear-ended by a driver who said he fell asleep. Turns out he also had just lost his job and let his car insurance lapse, so there will be no money from his policy to cover my repairs. In the meantime, the cargo door on my Rav4 is held shut with bungee cords.

3. A snowstorm dumped another foot of snow on our driveway. At least shoveling counts as exercise.

4. My husband came home with a backpack full of booze bottles after he cleaned out a friend's office while said friend was admitted to the hospital for detox. My husband didn't want to put the bottles in the friend's office trash, so we emptied them out in our kitchen sink, stuck them in our recycling bin, and are hoping for the best for the friend.

5. One of the prescriptions we use to help our daughter manage type 1 diabetes got refused by the insurance company despite the fact we had a prior authorization. Seems some person sitting at a desk reading claims knows more about diabetes than our daughter's endocrinologist. Who knew?

And it's only Tuesday.

These are the kinds of stories that knock hell out of time spent on art. But, at the same time, they are the stories that fuel it later. Once the dust settles and I have a chance to sift through things, I'll find moments that anchor a new direction in thought or call into question what I think I know. My art will take on yet another shape.

And those are the sorts of moments I look for in the poetry of other writers. Today, as I was reading slush, I was struck (not for the first time) by the number of submissions that present such generic verse that I wondered if the writers are afraid to make a pronouncement about anything. True, writers have to start somewhere and get feedback that helps them move on to a higher level of skill. However, writers must have a sense of whether they are digging deeply enough into a subject, whether they are getting at a truth of some sort, and whether they are allowing themselves to use an image or memory that is edgy or so striking that it might (gasp) hit someone else between the eyes. I was looking for a poem that would hit me as hard as the Nissan Maxima that plowed into my Rav4 on Saturday morning.

Time to stop being dainty with poetry or any other art. Dig in. Set the dynamite. Light the fuse. Get out of the way. How else will your art - or mine - be the reflection of this volatile life that is all around us?

DO A KIND THING

I'm looking for input here. What is the kindest thing someone has done for you that has helped you make better art? Chime in this week. Dialogue is good.

Writer Beware

2011-02-15T17:04:00.000-06:00

Last week, I had a request from a contact on LinkedIn to phone him. There was no other information on the message, just a plea to call him ("pretty please" he said). This was a fairly new contact, so I didn't call him. Instead, I replied to the message and asked what he wanted to discuss with me. The immediate reply was, "commissioning a poem."

Flattery aside, I was a little uneasy with such a request from someone who did not know me very well. He had started a group on LinkedIn that he invited me to be part of around the holidays and, since I'm in a lot of writers' groups on LinkedIn, I didn't think that was particularly unusual. I noted that he was very active in the group and always quick to respond whenever anyone posted a comment. He seemed to be quite professional.

Nevertheless, I decided to do some checking before I engaged in further communication with him. I went back to his profile, noted a major university that he claimed employed him as adjunct faculty, then went to that university's website to look at their list of faculty members. I couldn't find him, so I messaged him again and asked him if he would mind telling me which department he was attached to.

His communication with me stopped immediately. I returned to his profile later that same day and saw that his "adjunct faculty" position was no longer listed. A Google search of his name turned up several references to fraud within the last five years. The complaints against him included "con artist", "scammer", "preys on women", and an assortment of other accusations. I noticed one complaint that specifically stated this man asked for an article for which the author never received payment.

I immediately removed him from my contact list. But I did wonder how many writers there are out there who are so anxious to have their work recognized that they don't do a complete check on someone who initiates any sort of work-for-hire arrangement with them. If this man has been doing this sort of activity for several years, that says there must be quite a few - enough to make it profitable for him to keep going with it. Certainly, there are many others like him.

The lesson? If you don't know the person who is trying to commission work from you, check that person out before you give them anything of yours. Don't get excited about a commission until you know it's legit. There are too many good opportunities to waste your time and talent on one that's bogus.

DO A KIND THING

Share this with your writing buddies. Visit this site from the National Consumer League's Internet Fraud Watch.

Search Amazon.com for national consumers league

Poetry? I Should Care?

2011-02-08T16:18:00.000-06:00

The average American doesn't give a rat's ass about poetry.

I see it all the time. People who ask me what I do get glazed eyes if I say I write poetry. Sometimes they say, "So, you don't work, then?" Since poetry is not the only thing I do, my standard answer to the "What do you do?" question is, "It depends on the day." But the way people change the subject if I dare to talk about poetry - or any writing that doesn't involve a popular novel ready to be made into a blockbuster movie - constantly reminds me that I think about the world around me in a different way than most.

I can see poetry everywhere. Can't you? It's there in all the cliched images that kids write about when they have a poetry assignment to complete for school: sunsets, first kisses, fresh snow, baby animals, Mother's Day, loneliness, memories of Grandpa, the angst of a first break-up. It's there in the breath between opening my eyes in the morning and hearing someone in my family move out of bed. Poetry is present in all the silly Hallmark cards that are now heralding Valentine's Day (which reminds me I'd rather write my own). I see poetry in the way my daughter smiles over a text message, how my dog sticks her nose in my face on Sunday morning, the smell of onions sauteed in butter and oil, the feel of hot water on my skin when the outside temperature is below zero, the way afternoon sun through the living room window illuminates the blue vase on the bookshelf, and the way dust settles on the silver picture frame that holds an image of my husband as a baby. And I see it in all the mundane things that go with having a life: washing dishes, grocery shopping, carpooling, walking the dog, returning phone calls, making appointments.

Poetry is visible when we are present in the world.

I don't think this means that most people aren't present. I think it does mean that the way many of us have been taught about poetry is wrong. Too often, poetry is seen either as a stuffy thing that doesn't have anything to do with real life (if one is forced to memorize old sonnets or must dig through metaphors to get to that which makes sense), or something that gets spewed by people who are full of their own angst (and which results in some really awful verse). It's sometimes considered an elitist thing that real people with real jobs don't have time for.

Here's a thought. Let's teach kids first that poetry is a conversation with the world, an opportunity to make an image that holds our attention visible to another person.

And, maybe those of us who write poetry could tell those who ask what we do that we have conversations with the world. Among other things. Hmm.

DO A KIND THING

Have you heard of the Zen Army? Following Gandhi's directive to be the change you wish to see in the world, the Zen Army is a group of volunteers who get off their butts, get out there, and help whoever needs help. If you join the Zen Army online (go to http://www.zenarmy.org/), you will be connected with volunteer opportunities in your area. It won't cost you money, only time.

Visit this blog!

2011-02-05T21:08:00.000-06:00

My last blog post, Fifty Ways to Leave Your Writer's Block, is reposted on Pam Parker's blog, Finding Meaning with Words. Check her out!

Fifty Ways to Leave Your Writer's Block

2011-01-31T20:54:00.000-06:00

Brainstorming is what I do best. And, today, I'm sharing ideas to get you going. Can't have too many of those, right? Take what you like and leave the rest.

1. Freewrite about whatever's in your head the moment you wake up.
2. Cut apart your last draft of anything and rearrange the words like a puzzle.
3. Seek out some good graffiti and use it as a starting point.
4. Swipe your best friend's Facebook status as an opening line.
5. Take one word from each headline in today's newspaper and recombine them into a new headline. Write the resulting story.
6. Write a bit of memoir to go with the name you would have called yourself if you had gotten to choose your own name.
7. Use whatever you overhear in line at the grocery store as the first line of a new piece.
8. Describe the last person you saw walk in front of your car/bike/bus/train. Tell their story.
9. Rewrite a Shakespearean sonnet in today's English.
10. Put Jack Kerouac on the beach with the Pope. What happens?
11. Fill in the blank: I always wanted to be a __________.
12. How do you think you'll die?
13. Tell the story of the crime you would commit if you were sure you wouldn't get caught.
14. You are sure you are living in the wrong era. So, when should you have been born and why?
15. The avatar you've chosen for your Yahoo account looks nothing like you. What's that story?
16. When you feel like running away, where do you go?
17. What is the situation that makes you wonder if you need therapy?
18. Talk about the lover you cannot forget but know you could never live with.
19. What was the worst day of your life?
20. What is the best facial expression you saw on someone in the last couple of days? Write the story behind it.
21. What is the most intimate moment, besides sex, you've ever experienced? Put it into a poem.
22. Who would you be if you switched genders?
23. Why do you get out of bed in the morning?
24. Who would you save in a disaster?
25. Forget being a superhero. Which one would you like to defeat and how?
26. What is the story you are never going to tell your children?
27. Who would you be if you'd been a different race?
28. Think about the meanest thing you've done to someone else. Now write about how to fix it.
29. Write something empathetic for the person you find most repulsive in this world.
30. When you look into a candleflame, you imagine _______________.
31. What have you got to lose?
32. Where were you the last time you slept in a bed that wasn't yours?
33. Use the last Tweet from Al Jazeera English as the first line of your next piece.
34. Swipe a line from your favorite song from when you were sixteen and launch a story from it.
35. If you had a spirit animal, it would be __________ because…..
36. Big taboos: if you were X years younger, would you want to date your kid's boyfriend/girlfriend?
37. Taboos, again….write the poem about the person who attracts you the most but will never, ever know it.
38. I feel ageless when……
39. The thing about me that no one understands is ______________.
40. I don't remember how it feels to ______________.
41. The last time someone came up to me in a parking lot, this is what they said.
42. Some days, I feel like I'm losing my mind and it has nothing to do with being busy. Here's why.
43. When do you feel utterly alone?
44. Everything your partner does makes you twitch. Now what?
45. You just want a little kindness. Where does it come from?
46. The end of the world is now. What are you wearing?
47. My kingdom for a _____________!
48. Your first thought is, "Well, this sucks." Where are you?
49. What was your last emergency?
50. Freewrite your last thoughts before going to sleep.

Good luck with whatever might spring from this list! And, remember, if it's short poetry that shows up on your page, you can submit to Every Day Poets, among other places.

DO A KIND THING

Are you a decent writer? Then offer to critique your friends' work this week. Everyone needs readers who will go beyond saying, "That's nice," and actually deconstruct the work. How do you do that? Begin with what stuck with you. What phrases/images made an impact on you? Where do you feel disconnected from the writing? What questions does the writing bring up for you? This is all helpful feedback for a fellow writer. Go on, you can do it.

Search Amazon.com for writing prompts

Clarity Sometimes Goes with Charity

2011-01-19T17:27:00.000-06:00

Coffee is one of my major food groups. Yeah, okay, it's technically not food, but I'm not going to worry about the details right now. I'm simply going to admit that I don't function in the same way if I don't have any coffee to kick off my day. The whole ritual of making coffee in the morning, from grinding the beans to filling the carafe with cold water to waiting for the brew to be finished, is my prayer for inspiration and clarity.

So..... DO A KIND THING

If you drink as much coffee as I do, you might be interested to know that you can have your coffee and make a difference, too. (This is way better than having your cake and eating it, too - an old saying that seems really silly if you think about it a little bit…I mean, who would have cake and not actually eat it? But I digress.)

So, what am I rambling about? I am rambling about this amazing coffee that I buy every chance I get because 1. it's really good coffee and 2. its profits help at-risk youth in the Twin Cities, where I live. The coffee is City Kid Java. Its profits help fund youth programs coordinated by Twin Cities nonprofit Urban Ventures. It's available at Twin Cities area Cub Foods, Festival Foods, SuperTarget, and Cooks of Crocus Hill. Even if you don't live in the Twin Cities, you can still get this coffee by ordering online here. You know you have a soft spot for both kids and the Twin Cities. You really do. Buy some beans.

Search Amazon.com for brewing coffee
Search Amazon.com for fair trade coffee

Action-filled Wednesdays and Poetry Therapy

2011-01-13T13:06:00.000-06:00

Wednesdays are getting busier around here. You know all those "do a kind thing" segments I keep attaching to my blog each week? I took my own advice a while back and volunteered at an agency in Minneapolis that works with kids in abusive situations. The agency, CornerHouse, does forensic interviews with kids and I, as a Wednesday morning volunteer, have spent the past few months learning how to hang out with those kids while they wait to be interviewed. When there are no kids to hang out with, I sometimes format the written documentation for interviews that are completed. This means I read about the events that got these kids referred to CornerHouse in the first place. What I already knew has been confirmed repeatedly: abuse happens in families without regard for income, race, sexual orientation, education, neighborhood, religion. And the kids who survive these situations are amazing. They show up, tell their stories, and go back out into the world. It makes my head spin to consider what kids who have been abused carry around in their hearts.

When I come home from my volunteer shift, the first thing I want to do is hug my daughter. If any of her friends are around, I want to hug them, too. I often think about how we share our stories, whatever they are. How do the most difficult stories get told? If no one seems to believe your story, do you tell it anyway? In a world where people abuse children, what good is it to be a poet?

And this is how I ended up doing research this week on poetry therapy. I found this excerpt from The Center for Journal Therapy on goodtherapy.org's site: "The poet's capacity to distill the macrocosm of human experience into the microcosm of crafted words and images is the essence of interactive poetry therapy." I immediately honed in on this sentence as a validation that poets can make an important difference in the world. Some days, the poems I spit out or the ones I critique seem like a giant waste of time. But every once in a while there's a nice reminder that poetry, and all kinds of writing and other arts, offer a safe way to express the horrific and make it into something else.

Which leads me right to this week's…..DO A KIND THING

I put a link to the Pongo Teen Writing Project on my blog last year and it's time to do it again here. This nonprofit program that helps teens who are in difficult situations is a beautiful example of the power of poetry to make a difference. They've got several teen poetry collections for sale. And they have exercises to share, so if you've got teens in your life who might find poetry helpful to sort out whatever situation they're in, this is for you.

Free Arts Minnesota is another organization I've mentioned before that uses poetry and other arts as a tool for at-risk youth. They bring arts programs to the places where kids are staying. Check them out here.

Search Amazon.com for poetry therapy

Happy New Year from the Deep Freeze

2011-01-05T14:35:00.000-06:00

January in Minnesota is dreaded by many. People cling to the garden catalogs that begin to arrive by mail as if they were magic carpets that could rescue them from the snow that surrounds the mailboxes. Dreams of warm breezes, spring rain, and ripe leaf buds take hold as soon as the holiday decorations come down. Perhaps those sad evergreens newly stripped of their baubles and tinsel at rest alongside driveways and in alleys nudge people to consider new life…post-holiday blues, as it were. Or maybe it really is the mind-numbing cold that seems to descend along with the ball in Times Square on December 31. Whatever it is, dissatisfaction with the state of things is rampant for Minnesotans in January.

Not for me. I like the interstitial aspect of January in the Northern Hemisphere. It's a Hallmark pause between New Year's madness and the sappy forced romance of Valentine's Day. There is something about this deep freeze that invites writers to write, painters to paint, cooks to cook, and….well, you get the idea. Having just finished my 100th poem (yesterday, in fact) in 100 days, I've already slated January for revision and research for places where I should submit work. Couple that with the fact that it's cold enough to simmer pots of food on the stove without breaking a sweat and you have a mind-and-body-sustaining combination.

And that's what artists of all kinds do well….find those spaces in which to create a reality that keeps them going. That it's completely different from the reality for those around them is just plain fun.

DO A KIND THING
If you are interested in volunteering, you may have heard about United We Serve at Serve.gov. On its website, it says, "United We Serve is a nationwide service initiative that helps meet growing social needs resulting from the economic downturn." In short, go to this website to find opportunities to volunteer in your own community. Or, if you are affiliated with a service organization, go to this website to register your agency and recruit volunteers. How easy is that? One-stop online volunteer information, managed by the Corporation for National and Community Service, just in time for the Martin Luther King, Jr., 2011 Day of Service.