Fast Five with Stefanie Freele


I like to make the middle

something sassy and meaty. 

I like to make a fine ending

that swoops.


Welcome to Fast Five — short interviews with my favorite writers. Life may be short but who doesn't have time for five questions — and a chance to win a great book?  (To win, simply post your name in the comments section. See details below).

Stefanie Freele's stories and flash fiction can be found in Glimmer Train, Quarterly West, American Literary Review, Pank, and many other literary journals. Her collection, Feeding Strays, was a finalist for both the John Gardner Binghamton University Fiction Award and the Book of the Year Award. Her stories have been twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize. She recently won the Glimmer Train Fiction Open, and her second collection, Surrounded by Water, will be published in May 2012. In addition, Freele is the Fiction Editor at the Los Angeles Review.

How did you come to writing?

As most writers, I have always loved reading. I never knew that I could become a real writer though until I decided to go for my MFA at the Northwest Institute of Literary Arts: Whidbey Writers Workshop. Up until then, I thought there were readers, people who journaled a bit and then some very gifted folks over there that created their wonderful writing for us readers. Somehow a little whisper: write, grew to a yell: WRITE! and one finished story led to another led to a collection.

Your work is wonderfully distinct. Feeding Strays, a collection of 50 short (and short-short) stories, was a finalist in two prestigious contests, and has been described as loopy, sensitive and "full of strange, original invention." How do you describe your writing content and style? 

I don't know if I can describe it, I may be too close to my own writing, it is like trying to describe yourself. I don't know if I could do that either. I like to not waste much time falling into the beginning, I like to make the middle something sassy and meaty, I like to make a fine ending that swoops. Okay, I'm being silly there, but truly, it is difficult to dissect one's own writing.

Some people say "first thought best thought." Others edit a piece into place. What is your writing process?

Usually a little something nags at me along the way, something someone said, or something I observed and it nags enough that I finally get down to write about it. The little something then somehow births a story. I don't truly know how it works, but for instance, the last story of Feeding Strays, called "Every Girl Has An Ex Named Steve" began from two incidences.

One: I found myself saying just that to a friend when we were dog walking, "Every girl has an ex named Steve" and immediately knew I needed that line, and extra proud because it came from myself and I didn't need permission to swipe it.

Two: I witnessed a teenager in a banana suit standing outside a store while stiffly handing out coupons. I'd never seen a more miserable looking fellow. He oozed misery. He hated that banana suit body-cast more than he hated anything else in his short little life. I was watching youthful disillusionment happening right before my eyes. I felt achingly painfully sorry for him.

Thus, the first line of the story, "We tell her not to date a man in a banana suit."

I edit later when I think the story is told. Then, I use a different part of my brain, one that organizes and chops and perfects.

As the fiction editor for the Los Angeles Review, what do you look for in a story? What do you love to see, and what makes you cringe?

Cliches make me cringe. Overused plots make me wilt. Flowery self-important writing makes my face do the just-ate-a-lemon. Over-reliance on dialogue has a confusedly queasy affect on me and I have been known to drift off during weighty segments of backstory. I love to see more humor, more wacky, more real crisis and conflict, more creative plots.

You are an accomplished writer, reader, poet and editor. What do you know now that you didn't know when you first started writing?

I did not know I would meet so many talented and genuine authors. I've had an enormous privilege, by being both the Fiction Editor of the Los Angeles Review, a former submissions editor with Smokelong Quarterly and speaking at various conferences, where I've been introduced to some beautiful and amazing writers. When you get a signed book from an author you've just met and you go home and love the book, that is a wonderful feeling. I thought being a writer would be very lonely, very isolated and curmudgeonlike but it doesn't have to be.

And, although I knew I loved words, loved stories, loved to read, I didn't know how much that love can just keep growing until you just want to shout about it. But, shout not too long, because hey, I've got a pile of books to read.

Bonus Question: I'm a collector of words and often have my students collect words, too. Do you have any favorite words?

The other day someone used the word bombastic and I found myself in love with that word. I don't think I've ever said it aloud, however I'm going to attempt to insert it somewhere, either in a story, or in an accusation. I really want to tell someone they are being too bombastic. And, I want to be right about it.


Win this!

Win a copy of Glimmer Train, the literary journal featuring While Surrounded by Water, the Stefanie Freele story that won the Glimmer Train Fiction Open and evoked the title for her forthcoming collection.

To enter the drawing, simply add your name and contact info in the comments section below. Feeling shy? Email me, with "Glimmer Train" in the subject line:  dcm@drewmyron.com

A name will be drawn and a winner announced on Monday, March 19, 2012.

 

  

This Week in Books

If days after I've finished a book I'm still thinking of the story, characters, pace, or plot,  I know it's one I need to shout about. This week I've enjoyed three great — and very different — books.

The Penguin Anthology of 20th Centry American Poetry
by Rita Dove, editor

Remember those college English classes requiring the ridiculously heavy Norton Anthologies with onion-skin thin pages? The just-released Penguin Anthology is like that — but so much better. I'm not sure if it's age (it's been, ahem, many years since I was an English major) or my increased appreciation of poetry but I am loving this collection.

Thumbing through the pages is like seeing old friends: Anne Sexton, Walt Whitman, Amiri Baraka (in college I filled an entire wall of my studio apartment with his words: What can I say? / It is better to haved loved and lost/ Than to put linoleum in your living rooms?  from In Memory of Radio). There's newer friends too: Kay Ryan, Adrienne Rich, Marie Howe, Billy Collins, and more. With both classic and contemporary poems, this collection deftly gathers 100 years of poetry and manages to shed the academic obligation and emerge refreshingly necessary.

 

Feeding Strays
by Stefanie Freele

In this collection of 50 short, and sometimes very short (flash fiction), stories, Stefanie Freele offers loopy and touching slices of life. Characters and plot are both sincere and silly, gritty and surreal. At the heart of each absurdity lies great sensitivity. We're all a bit broken, she seems to suggest, and that's what makes us whole.

 

Just Like Us: The True Story of Four Mexican Girls Coming of Age in America
by Helen Thorpe

In this engaging narrative nonfiction, Thorpe — a journalist long before she was wife to Colorado Gov. John Hickenlooper — offers an insightful look at immigration policy through a moving (and evenhanded) story of four young women as they struggle to learn, grow and prosper. "Helen Thorpe has taken policy and turned it into literature," says Malcom Gladwell.

 

Thankful Thursday: Read and Misread

Everything Lush I Know

I do not know the names of things
but I have lived on figs and grapes
smell of dirt under moon
and moon under threat of rain
everything lush I know
an orchard becoming all orchards
flowers here and here
the earth I have left
every brief home-making
the lot of God blooming into vines
right now then and always

— Kimberly Burwick

 

As part of my new routine of reading and writing each morning, yesterday I read this poem from Horses in the Cathedral, by Kimberly Burwick, a writer living in Moscow, Idaho.

Despite its brevity, the poem is full, and well, lush. That first line is an immediate hook — I do not know the names of things — and the reverent details and tone transported me easily from the poem to my journal. Energized, I lifted a line — a lot of God blooming into vines — and started a freewrite.

This prompt produced pages of material. Later, I reread the poem and realized it was not a lot of God but the lot of God. But no matter, whatever unfurls the mind and moves the pen.

On this Thankful Thursday, I am thankful for poems that arrive and energize.

 

It's Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to appreciate the people, places, things (and poems) in our lives. Joy contracts and expands in proportion to our gratitude. What makes your world expand?


Try This: Morning Read & Write

What's your writing routine?

Influenced by Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way, years ago I wrote Morning Pages — a freewwrite filling two full pages, every morning. Most days the pages filled fast, and I started the day doing what I do best and enjoy most: writing.

Poet Molly Spencer, who shares details of her writing life at The Stanza, recently shared with me her writing routine: 

What I always do, no matter what, is what I call my morning reading and writing. I read someone else's work, then write something, anything. It's usually junk, but sometimes a jewel finds its way onto the paper. And even the junk feels like an accomplishment because it's writing.

I like this idea because it establishes a time and place for writing. In doing the same thing everyday, I am making an appointment and declaring the importance of writing in my life. And in reading the work of others, I am prepping my write mind.

With Molly's nudge, this morning I read Facts About the Moon, poems by Dorianne Laux, and then wrote fast and fevered, without thinking. What a great way to start the day! I was reminded how powerful morning writing can be. Reading and writing first thing sets a tone and pace for everything that follows.

Try a Morning Read & Write, and let me know how it goes for you.

 

Thankful Thursday: Ikea

I don't even like to shop.

Still, last week I found myself trapped in the dizzy march of the Ikea maze. Sandwiched between screaming toddlers and dawdling adults is not my idea of a fun Saturday morning. Shopping in a concrete warehouse, under fluorescent lights, is really never a good time.

Except when it comes to paper and pens, I don't like a lot of choice. And Ikea, the behemoth of affordable housewares, offers choice after choice after choice. Smart design, clever ideas. And cheap! It's all too much. Saturated with sight and sound, I started snarling at youngsters (those who hadn't been plopped off at the kiddie corral) and glaring at shoppers who were inexplicably having fun.

When my husband not-so-gently asked if I had brought a book and pointed to an empty table in the cafe (Must everything involve food? I snapped), I jumped at the chance to escape the circus.

There, in the din of consumer overload, I wrote. Page after page in the loopy scrawl of the slightly mad. The rant turned inward eventually and slowed to a less charged pace. I wrote and wrote. Hours later, when the shopping was over and the car packed tight, I had written, rewritten, and polished a poem (one which had absolutely nothing to do with consumer waste, screaming children, clueless adults, or food court stench).

On this Thankful Thursday, I am thankful for Ikea — for driving me over the edge and into a poem.

 

It's Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to appreciate the people, places, things (and poems) in our lives. Joy contracts and expands in proportion to our gratitude. What makes your world expand?

 

 

How to feed your writing life

Every week, a friend and I exchange the same question:

How did you feed your writing life this week?

We are writers. We want to write more, and better, and see the results of our commitment to a creative life. And so, like Weight Watchers or a 12 Step Program, we keep each other accountable. We share our drafts and works-in-progress. We exchange achievements and concerns. We encourage each other while also applying slight (but loving) pressure to act. It is not enough to wish. You must write — and when not writing, you must exercise the writing muscle through other literary actions.

Five Ways to Feed Your Writing Life

1.
Read, Read, Read.  And read more.

Read more than you write. Read stories, poems, essays, magazines, dictionaries, history books, cookbooks, cereal boxes. Reading will always expand your life and your writing. Influence is good. Let yourself be immersed and influenced. Good writing will shape your own writing.

2.
Attend a Workshop.
I just returned from the South Coast Writers Conference where I led two workshops. The sessions were lively and the writers warm and friendly. It was great fun.

I spend much of my time alone, quietly crafting words. Until I am in a room full of writers, I forget the wonderful rush writing with a group can bring. When we write together, we buzz in a collective creativity, and when we share our work we feel great energy and relief.

Take a workshop. Week-long and weekend workshops are plentiful, but there are loads of one-day, half-day and one-hour events, too. And many are free or low-fee. Look to your library, or local writing organization, for writing opportunities.

3.
Go to a Reading.
Nothing stirs the writing juices like hearing the work of others. Almost every town holds a reading or an open mic night (even small towns, like mine, with just 650 people, have readings at coffeehouses and libraries). At a reading, you'll have the opportunity to meet other writers, hear new ideas, and measure your work against what you hear. Even better, take part! Sharing your words before an audience is an excellent way to discover where your work skips, soars, or lags.

And remember, it's good to encourage one another. We're all in this together. Give yourself bonus points for reaching out to newbies.

4.
Write a Letter.
You know how I feel about letters. They save lives, or at least brighten them. Writing a letter is an excellent way to "pretend" write. You know you should polish your poems, or start your story. But you're not feeling it. Reach instead for pen and paper, and write a letter. You'll quickly find yourself in a pool of words and ideas.   

By the way, how is the Month of Letters Challenge going?

5.
Watch a Movie about Writing.
It feels a bit like cheating but watching a movie about writers always inspires me to pick up my own pen. After all, literary acts are really just ways to nudge us back to our own writing.

A few of my favorite write-themed movies are:  Il Postino, Freedom Writers, Bad Writing, SlamNation, The Hobart Shakespeareans, Finding Forrester, and Leonard Cohen: I'm Your Man.

 

Tell me, how are you feeding your writing life?

 

Thankful Thursday: Stones

 

Sunday morning on Stonefield Beach

On the beach

gathering stones

every appreciation

is prayer

- Drew Myron

 

Speaking of stones, check out A Handful of Stones, a lovely source of small, powerful poems of observation and appreciation.

It's Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause of gratitude, praise and appreciation. Please join me. What are you thankful for today?

Do you take part in Thankful Thursdays? I'm making a list and will gladly add a link to your website or blog.


No obligation

The restaurants are packed with moony lovers bent over pricey meals and bad service. The television blasts must-have gifts: jewelry, flowers, stale chocolates in flimsy cardboard.

Forgive me, St. Valentine, but I've never cared for you. Contrived adoration combined with obligation makes me anxious. I imagine Hallmark counting bags of money and roaring with laughter.

I'm not bitter, really, I'm not. I am gooey with sentiment. I just feel manipulated.

Despite all the hoopla and show, I am thankful that tender, real, private love abounds: in taking out the trash, emptying the dishwasher, making dinner, cleaning the gutters, in gifts without reason and just-because notes. When love shows its beautiful, unforced, unadvertised self, I am almost always surprised and grateful — and not at all obligated.

 

Valentine for Ernest Mann

You can't order a poem like you order a taco.
Walk up to the counter and say, "I'll take two"
and expect it to be handed back to you
on a shiny plate.

Still, I like your spirit.
Anyone who says, "Here's my address,
write me a poem," deserves something in reply.
So I'll tell a secret instead:
poems hide. In the bottoms of our shoes,
they are sleeping. They are the shadows
drifting across our ceilings the moment
before we wake up. What we have to do
is live in a way that lets us find them.

Once I knew a man who gave his wife
two skunks for a valentine.
He couldn't understand why she was crying.
"I thought they had such beautiful eyes."
And he was serious. He was a serious man
who lived in a serious way. Nothing was ugly
just because the world said so. He really
liked those skunks. So, he re-invented them
as valentines and they became beautiful.
At least, to him. And the poems that had been hiding
in the eyes of skunks for centuries
crawled out and curled up at his feet.

Maybe if we re-invent whatever our lives give us
we find poems. Check your garage, the odd sock
in your drawer, the person you almost like, but not quite.
And let me know.

— Naomi Shihab Nye

 

 

Thankful Thursday: Mrs. Allison, smoking

It's Thankful Thursday. Joy expands and contracts in direct relation to our gratitude. Please join me in a weekly pause to appreciate the people, places & things that bring joy. What are you thankful for today?

On this Thankful Thursday, I am thankful for:

Peckish, the word
peck·ish  (pksh)
adj.
1. Ill-tempered; irritable, surly.
2. Chiefly British: Somewhat hungry.

This reminder:
"This corresponds to what I have learned as a writer about seeing 'dry spells' through: it helps considerably if one has developed writerly habits. People often remark that they would write, or paint, or sculpt, if only they had the time. But this is pure fantasy: the artist does whatever is necessary to arrange her life so that she will have the time to make her art." 

— Kathleen Norris
from Acedia & me: A Marriage, Monks, and A Writer's Life

Mrs. Allison in the grocery store, smoking
When I was 12 years old,  I spotted my beloved teacher, Mrs Allison, shopping the frozen foods aisle at King Soopers. I was thrilled to see my teacher out of the classroom and in the real world but when I looked closer I was stunned: Mrs Allison was wearing jeans, and she was smoking a cigarette!

This week after a vigorous run, I dashed into the grocery store. Bare-faced, sweaty and clad in see-every-lump  spandex, I loaded up on the essentials: chips and wine. Just then two of my young students rushed with happiness to see me. I think I recognized the second look they took. Like Mrs. Allison, I am, sadly, human.

Thanks for the memory, Mrs. Allison.

 

A Month of Letters

I'm writing letters.

To an old friend who understands the missing pieces.

To a young friend I write: I don't have answers but here, consider this, and this, and maybe this.

To a niece.

To a poet.

To a student.

To a mother-in-law.

To myself.

Letters let us wonder and search, and sometimes declare.

You like letters, too? Please join me in A Month of Letters, a challenge presented by novelist (and letter writer) Mary Robinette Kowal.

 

Elegy for the Personal Letter 

I miss the rumpled corners of correspondence,

the ink blots and crossouts that show

someone lives on the other end, a person

whose hands make errors, leave traces.

I miss fine stationary, its raised elegant

lettering prominent on creamy shades of ivory

or pearl grey. I even miss hasty notes

dashed off on notebook paper, edges

ragged as their scribbled messages—

can't much write nowthinking of you.

When letters come now, they are formatted

by some distant computer, addressed

to Occupant or To the family living at

meager greetings at best,

salutations made by committee.

Among the glossy catalogs

and one time only offers

the bills and invoices,

letters arrive so rarely now that I drop

all other mail to the floor when

an envelope arrives and the handwriting

is actual handwriting, the return address

somewhere I can locate on any map.

So seldom is it that letters come

That I stop everything else

to identify the scrawl that has come this far—

the twist and the whirl of the letters,

the loops of the numerals. I open

those envelopes first, forgetting

the claim of any other mail,

hoping for news I could not read

in any other way but this.

 

— Allison Joseph

 

 

Sticks, Stones & Stretch

Let's write together! Id' love to see you here:

Stretch! Expand Your Poem Possibilities
Friday, Feb 17 - Saturday, Feb 18, 2012
17th Annual South Coast Writers Conference
Gold Beach, Oregon

With an emphasis on poetry, this workshop will focus on fresh writing with prompts and practices designed to inspire and energize. Writers will explore the terrain of poem possibilities as they generate, and share, new work in a supportive, encouraging atmosphere. This workshop is open to writers of all skills and experience. More info here.

Sticks, Stones, Shore:
Exploring Place through Poems & Prose

Sitka Center for Art & Ecology
Sunday, July 15, 2012
near Lincoln City, Oregon

Through walks, talks and nature-rich wanderings, writers will explore place — both emotional and physical. From poetry to prose, fact to fiction, the focus is on fresh writing with prompts and practices designed to inspire and energize. Participants will generate new work in an encouraging and serene setting. This workshop will serve as a creative springboard, providing writing practices, along with opportunity to meet other writers and share experiences that will help shape, shift and propel your own writing.

More info here.

 

Love that line!


"What made you change?"

"It was that poem, actually. I still remember the moment when I read it . . . 

"I think it changed my life. My parents wanted me to be an engineer, and I never really questioned it. It was practical. But I read the poem — I think it was just called 'Poems' — and then I read another, and then another. I think I spent the whole day in the poetry section, and everything seemed different by the time I left. I didn't think I was going to be a poet, but I knew I wasn't going to be an engineer."

- from Breakable You, a novel by Brian Morton

 

Thankful Thursday: Frog Song

After the rain. After the wind. After the tree fell. After the storm passed. On the first of February, like a signal for spring, a faint sound emerges.

 

Breakthrough

last night

a frog serenade broke

                           melancholy’s long moan

we were punctuated with

a comma of unexpected joy

 

- Drew Myron

 

It's Thankful Thursday! Gratitude. Appreciation. Praise. Please join me in a weekly pause to appreciate the people, places & things that bring joy. What are you thankful for today?


Thriving but Dying?

Dear Literary Journals,

I'm worried.

My friends and I — poets and writers — are sending mixed signals: We love you. We shun you.

We want to be in your pages, where the cool writers hang, laughing at inside jokes and rolling eyes at the hapless hopefuls. We pine for your validation, the stamp that says "real writer."

Our desire is deep. Each year we send you hundreds of poems and stories. Please like me, we plead. Take my words — and for free! We want you that much. And just like high school, we quickly turn to envy, the sour face of adoration. We compare ourselves to other writers, and then, frustrated with our limitations, deride those we emulate.

But here's the weird and creepy thing. Despite our desire, we don't really read you. Sure, we flip through your pages at AWP (the annual gathering of writers, this year a record 9,500 registered to attend). We'll smile and take free copies. We'll graze your website, but really, we're just looking for the submission guidelines.

We want to be in your circle, but we don't really wanna hang out, don't wanna commit past the first date. No need to lock into something permanent like a subscription.

Frankly, I don't know how you survive. With few of us reading, really reading, and even fewer paying our way, I'm not sure how you find the time, energy and financial means to produce the goods.

And I'm confused. With nearly 3,000 -- that's not a typo, that's three thousand! --  literary journals and magazines published in the U.S., it seems the industry is thriving (as evidenced here, and here). But with so few buying, you're widely unread. So, are you thriving or dying?

Whatever the case, you press on. Cranking out issue after issue, a small fire of hope burns for donations, subscribers, a way to hang on. How do you do it?

And how do we, as writers, want you but not support you? Love you but shun you?  How does this circle keep turning?

Sincerely,

Drew

 

From sizzle to fizzle?

Ask - collage by Drew Myron
As January comes to a close, has your resolve faded? All that pop and sizzle gone to fizzle?

For weeks, I've heard the zealous plans of overachievers: This year I will write a book! I will write everyday! I will get published!

My head aches. My heart sinks. Big goals may be good for some but I can't take the pressure. Bite-size tasks work best for me. 

I take heart in knowing the race to accomplish is best achieved in small daily steps. Like an exercise routine, I'm aiming for consistent effort, not exhaustion. To that end, I've culled ideas from friends and colleagues to offer key ways to feed your writing life.

Three Ways to Re-Ignite

Write in Short Bursts
A friend of mine writes in small slices. In line, at the grocery, in the waiting room. "I have written something poemish every day this week," she tells me. "I tend to want to wait until I have a length of time open before I dive in [to write]. This year I am writing in the short bursts as well."

• Make a Collage
My favorite kind of art project is one requiring limited artistic ability. Collage is the answer! Simply page through magazines and clip words and pictures that draw your eye. As you arrange images on a blank page you may be surprised to discover themes and ideas that will spur a poem, a story, or more.

• Pick a Word
At the start of every year, many writers take inventory of their lives and goals and choose one word to guide them through the year. This can be a fun and powerful process. Choosing a word forces you to focus while also providing powerful direction. Molly chose persist. Auburn picked certainty. Sage's word is, um, not printable. When you open yourself to possibilities you allow conscious and unconscious forces — some might say the muse — to direct your steps (and words).

 

How about you: What are you doing to feed your writing life?
How do you create and maintain a writing routine?

 

Out of everything broken

Today, I'm hosting a William Stafford Celebration. It's one of 62 events taking place this month.

The Stafford Celebrations began 13 years ago. Now readings and events take place every January across the globe, and not just in Oregon (where he spent most of his life) but also in Japan, Malaysia, Scotland, Mexico and Sweden.

In a world of so many writers, why do we celebrate one man?

In part because William Stafford was one of America's most prolific writers. He wrote over 20,000 poems and more than 50 books — and his first book wasn't published until he was 46 years old. He taught at Lewis and Clark College for 30 years, served as Oregon Poet Laureate, and earned a National Book Award.

He was also a pacifist. During World War II, he was a conscientious objector. He spent the war in Civilian Public Service work camps in Arkansas and California, where he did work for the U.S. Forest Service.

After decades of writing, teaching and encouraging other writers, William Stafford died in 1993 at 79 years old.

He believed that treasures were to be found beneath your feet, and that searching for things that fit together was to follow the "golden thread." About his own work, he once said, "I have woven a parachute out of everything broken."

Today's event, and all the Stafford readings, celebrate the life and work of an accomplished poet, but just as importantly — maybe more importantly — these gatherings encourage creative expression and urge us to make beauty "out of everything broken."

 

You Reading This, Be Ready

Starting here, what do you want to remember?

How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?

What scent of old wood hovers, what softened

sound from outside fills the air?

 

Will you ever bring a better gift for the world

than the breathing respect that you carry

wherever you go right now? Are you waiting

for time to show you some better thoughts?

 

When you turn around, starting here, lift this

new glimpse that you found; carry into evening

all that you want from this day. This interval you spent

reading or hearing this, keep it for life  —

 

What can anyone give you greater than now,

starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?

 

- William Stafford


Shaped by Place

"A shore pine in offshore wind," by Mark Fletcher.

Living between forest and sea, I have one eye to the wind and the other to water. I live in a remote small town tucked against a temperate rainforest that sees over 70 inches of rain each year. It is habit now to search for water's sneaky mark, along each seam and crevice, every window and door.

On this rugged shore, I am shaped by landscape, sculpted by the harsh practicalities of living on water's moody rim. I am living on edge, against a churning sea. Even my dreams are water-logged. I am wading, flooded, soaked. Everywhere leak and loss.

For the last 12 hours, I am braced against a steady storm. A frenzied mix of drenching rain and 100 mile per hour winds have toppled trees, turned trucks, closed roads, pounded doors and rattled glass. All night, windows heave, and tree limbs knock and pop against the house.

This morning I wake, blearied and headached, to the same soaking rain. Lights flicker and tease. Several hours into morning, there is no hope of sun and little light, just a dark gray sky a shade brighter than night.

And yet, and yet. The storm will pass, as they always do. The rain will cease. Beauty will return, brilliant enough to make me ache. The forever ocean. A forest so green and lush it seems make-believe. The trees here touch sky, touch something in me endless and tender.

There is tension in this chasm, a beautiful contradiction that urges introspection, expression, words. I am dry and safe, and shaped — very shaped — by this place.

 

Are you shaped by place? How does landscape and weather influence your writing?

 

And the winners are . . .

 . . . Wendye Savage

Congratulations Wendye, you are the lucky recipient of How to Make A Living As A Poet by Gary Glazner. Please send your mailing address to: dcm@drewmyron.com

 

 


. . . Gisele Vincent-Page

Congratulations Gisele, you've won 101 Ways to Make Poems Sell: A Guide to Getting and Staying Published by Chris Hamilton-Emery. Please send your mailing address to:  dcm@drewmyron.com

 

 

 

Many thanks to all the readers and writers who entered the drawing and offered writing inspiration. Your participation is much appreciated. Write on!