Lost in translation

From The Times:

The Prince of Wales has watercolours, it’s true, but it’s hard to imagine him getting to grips with the waka, with its 31 syllables, strictly arranged into five lines in the 5-7-5-7-7 structure. Akihito and Empress Michiko knock out four waka apiece for New Year’s Eve as well, reflecting on the year just gone by, and this year’s offerings were helpfully put out in English by the Imperial Household Agency last week. Translating poetry is notoriously difficult and the waka usually come out sounding as poetic as the instruction manual for a vacuum cleaner. Link.

Maybe if I translate my grocery list into Japanese it will sound poetic.

Dull-prose hell

So, it looks like I’ll miss tonights Warren Wilson College MFA faculty reading… child care canceled at the last minute. But after reading the following article, maybe MFA’s are horribly overrated. From the Toronto Star:

…when it comes to teaching creative writing, good intentions are nothing but paving material for the route to dull-prose hell. Link.

Warren Wilson College reading — review

Brief review of last night’s Warren Wilson College MFA faculty reading.

Marianne Boruch read first and from her new book that she didn’t know had been published and available at the book store. Always a delight to hear her read. Poems read include: “Still Life,” “New Paper,” “A Musical Idea,” and others.

Charles D’Ambrosio read a lengthy, intriguing piece that I assume is the opening to a novel. When he finished, I wanted to shout, “What happens next?”

Van Jordan read about a half dozen poems both old and new (from his recent book). His personae poems and eulogies were delightful and haunting.

Michael Martone read one of his “contributor notes” from his book Michael Martone: fiction. You would have had to been there to understand the unique humor of his story. As one amazon.com reviewer put it, “Mind-bending multiple views of Martone’s real and/or imagined lives, written in 2-3 page faux contributor’s notes.” His piece was hilarious and a great way to end a rich reading.

Maurice Manning’s poetry lecture summary and thoughts

As promised, some highlights from yesterday’s Maurice Manning poetry lecture.

The lecture centered on “Some Thoughts on Sympathy.” Maurice began by defining sympathy. First, it is not the “I feel your pain” emotion that is manipulative, fake and inaccessible — a show of feeling rather than creation of feeling (i.e. the desire that you feel me feeling your pain). Sympathy defined as honest feeling, common understanding — as in “two beasts bound together” like oxen — of suffering.

Maurice cited the Romantic period as the historical place where sympathy in literature is born — where the outward reaching heart surveys the humanity of the world and returns to the mind where it is changed, sympathetic, and reaches outward again. “Isn’t that what we seek in poetry, to be changed?” Maurice asked. From there he presented the two-step machinery of Romanticism — heart and mind cycle — using the physics examples of sympathetic motion in plucked strings and pendulum motion.

This is the part of the lecture where I was deeply engaged. He went deep into physics and linguistics to make the point that sympathy occurs naturally — it is part of our nature. It is the transfer of energy from one property to another, one person to another, from the page to the spirit. This is the kind of lecture that challenges me, resonates with me, makes me want to go deep. I’m starved for it.

Maurice used Robert Burns’s poem “To a Mouse” and Coleridge’s “Frost at Midnight” as examples of sympathy in poetry. After an in depth analysis of the linguistic patterns of “To a Mouse,” he concluded his lecture by stating that the poets he referenced found the self in these poems. “We’re always yoked to something…” he said. “The mysterious force of the poem stays with us even after we have closed the book.”

The applause was loud and seemed not to affect him as he paper clipped his lecture notes. As the applause subsided he quietly stated, “I guess it’s lunch now.”

Warren Wilson College reading — free to the public

The Maurice Manning lecture this morning was excellent. I still plan to share details later. Presently, I getting ready to attend the Warren Wilson College MFA faculty reading tonight. Here’s who is reading tonight:

Marianne Boruch, Charles D’Ambrosio, Van Jordan, Michael Martone

The event is free to the public and begins at 8:15pm in the Fellowship Hall behind the Chapel.

Maurice Manning’s poetry lecture…

…was ARGH-sum!

I arrived at Warren Wilson College’s Fellowship Hall a few minutes early and waited for the earlier session to conclude. First one out the door was none other than Steve Orlen. I wonder if he read my prediction? More interesting, how did he make it from the front row of a packed hall to be the first one out into the bright, cold morning? He looked at me fidgeting with my gloves. As he fished a cigarette out of its package he told me I should put the gloves away and get in there so I won’t miss the lecture. I smiled, said thanks and headed into the bustling hall.

I’ll provide highlights from Maurice Manning’s poetry lecture later. Gotta get my mind back into work mode. Just discovered that after two rounds of proofreading the word “foreword” was misspelled on a manuscript that is en route to the printer. ARGH. So much for quality control. Then again, I’ve been looking at this manuscript for months and it wouldn’t surprise me if the author’s name is misprinted.

Did any of ya’ll out there make it to Maurice’s lecture?

Warren Wilson College poetry lecture — free to the public

Anyone planning to attend the MAURICE MANNING lecture this morning? Here’s the lecture description from Warren Wilson College:

In 1771, Henry Mackenzie, a Scotsman, published a short satiric novel called The Man of Feeling. Literary historians tell us this novel—driven by the political philosophies of fellow Scots like Adam Smith and David Hume—helped to establish sympathy as a social virtue. Sympathy means “to suffer together”; more simply, I think it can also mean “to share feeling,” certainly one of the things we create as poets and seek as readers. In this lecture, I’d like to parse out an agreeable understanding of sympathy, briefly trace its history as a kind of ethical aesthetic in poetry, and discuss its continuing significance. I’d also like to demonstrate how English language syntax necessarily places phrases and clauses in sympathetic relation to each other. Finally, I think the poetic line itself is a sympathetic locale; such a proposition will turn the discussion to poetic devices such as tone, diction, alliteration, meter, and our old friend, metaphor. In a handout I’ll provide an example of a very bad poem, a poem from Robert Burns, one from Coleridge, and a couple of contemporary gems.

The lecture will be held in the Fellowship Hall, behind the Chapel, at 11:15 this morning. Hope to see you there.

Poetry blogosphere rawk star

Holy Shoot! About.com’s poetry blog listed and linked to my list of 7 things you should know about being a poet.

Crazy, right? Does this make me a poetry blogosphere rawk star? No. It means I spend way too much time blogging when I should be working… er… writing… like poetry or something.

Okay, so, About.com visitors, thanks for visiting. If you want to actually read schtuff that was published (poems, essays, etc.) follow this link. To read a weekly column I used to write go here.

7 things you should know about: being a poet

Since lists and confessions seem to be on my mind; Aaron McCollough, a University English lecturer, offers his advice. Here’s the first two, read the rest by following the link:

  • There’s generally no such thing as royalties in poetry. You don’t get a dime from the books you publish, even if someone actually buys a copy. If your heart is set on being a professional poet, either score a lecturing job or get used to Ramen.
  • The most common way for new poets to get their work published is by entering in poetry contests. They cost money and are usually only won by people already established in the poetry community. Good luck.

(via Deborah Ager) Link.

Deborah Ager offers her 7 things here.

Coffeehouse Junkie offers 7 Things:

  1. Consider it a hobby if you live anywhere outside NYC.
  2. It is a selfish drug that deepens your addiction the more it is practiced.
  3. Open mic events are both the Poetry Den and Poets Anonymous.
  4. Get a real job–preferably a job that requires brainless activity so you can focus your addiction with lucidity.
  5. Get used to the rejection of literary journal editors, poetry contest judges, friends, family and countrymen.
  6. No matter how well crafted your poetry becomes, it will be read far less than the graffiti adorning urinals in Waffle Houses across the country.
  7. Expect to lose your house, spouse, dog, and dinner for the sake of poetry, and if you don’t lose any of the previously mentioned count your blessings because you’re probably losing sleep in exchange.

Peace out, my lit junkies.

Confessions : 08

01. I still have not purchased a Christmas Tree…
02. and I am not going out this weekend to purchase one.
03. So, there will be no Christmas tree this year.
04. Something about the holiday consumerism confuses me…
05. and depresses me…
06. and oddly I am grateful because book sales for the publishing imprint I helped launch is more than 20% better than projected.
07. I’m still sleeping in the living room.
08. I will not explain #7.
09. But I will explain #10.
10. My entire library and art supplies were moved to the garage.

The lost art of writing with pen

This afternoon I was working from The Drip and noticed several other WiFi and coffee addicts smashing away on keyboards and surfing the wild world web and… and I noticed several laptop users had notebooks (some basic notebooks… others moleskin notebooks) they were writing in or reading from.

The asymmetry of new and old technology is sublime. Despite the WiFi access, people at The Drip were actually writing–regardless of proper penmanship– in analog. Not typing directly into cyberspace or IMing or emailing or blogging, but writing the ways the ancients did–placing stylus to parchment. This represents the hope that our culture still has a grasp on the necessity of reading and writing and the cognitive exercise to accomplish that task.

Subcriptions Down? Here’s some help.

For magazine publishers who are moaning about the plummeting subscription numbers, a word of advice from AdPulp (via 5280) Link.

To sell ads, you’ve got to attract a worthwhile audience. To attract an audience, you’ve got to give them compelling content. All of which convinces me that good journalism can be good business.

You know what the key ingredient to this success story is?

…we’ve had to more than triple our staff and increase our editorial budget…

Well, duh. Magazine publishers–still asking questions?

Confessions : 07

01. Homemade chocolate chip cookies taste really good at 10 p.m.
02. I’ve been sleeping in the living room since October.
03. This photo of the Burnsville Town Square reminds me of a weekend I didn’t have to work.
04. It also reminds me of how many days I missed chasing this illusion called a career.
05. I have $3 in my wallet…
06. and it has to last until payday.
07. I have not bought a Christmas tree yet…
08. because it costs more than $3.
09. And I don’t want a tree that has to be senselessly cut down and kept on life support until it slowly withers and dies around January 18th.
10. An Alpine Spruce is nice and will be decorated, watered and planted outside facing west when the time is right.
11. Also, I’m wearing a pair of Ugg boots a family member bought me nine years ago. They are comfortable, do not need repair, look great and make my other shoes jealous.

Feelin’ Asheville

It’s been a long time since I did an Asheville open-mic circuit on a Thursday night.

The Open Mic at Dripolator offered quite a full evening. Kapila hosts the event. The Drip sure pulls a crowd. Parking was an issue–I had to park two blocks away. Kapila read some of his work around 9 p.m. In one, he laments that this city is now called Ashevegas when Ashevillage is he would dream she be called.

I hung out for awhile and listened to several good singer/songwriters and poets. But I left with an annoying thought–I’m not feeling Asheville. It’s an expression I lifted from another local writer. He uses the expression when a line of prose or poetry works: “Yeah, man, I’m feelin’ it now.” I suspect the expression has jazz or blues roots.

The Courtyard Gallery Open Mic offered a sparse gathering, but I arrived after 10 p.m. So there may have been a larger crowd earlier. Jarrett Leone graciously invited me to read a couple poems I found in my notebook. The same notebook I haven’t been able open since the writers residency back in July. I read a couple blues poems because it seemed to be the only sketches I was feelin’. My voice strained to pull the words off the page and send it to the audience. Jim, a regular at the Courtyard and previously Beanstreets, greeted me warmly and told me he was thinking about me the other night when he was reading through my old chapbook, Late Night Writing. Before I left the Courtyard, Jarrett gave me a big hug and we shared a few words.

I began to feel Asheville again, but it was awkward–like kissing an ex-lover. A lover that has moved onto to someone else, and the space between us is more than physical. It is an annoying thought that troubles me tonight. I’m not feelin’ Asheville. And I don’t know why.

Asheville after the storm


I missed the bus last night. Seems like I’ve been missing a lot this week. Work has been a storm of activity. A project, a Weekly Planner, I sent to press at the beginning of the month finally arrived and looks fantastic. But like two weather fronts colliding, the Weekly Planner crashes into another project, a paperback book, and it seems the days and nights wrestle for control of my energy.

I missed The Kakalak Poets on Saturday, but caught the Bernstein and Cabanis-Brewin reading at Malaprop’s on Sunday. Their reading centered around place; specifically Western North Carolina. It was an unusually balm mid-October afternoon and I felt like a stranger at the event even though I’ve been to Malaprop’s dozens if not hundreds of times. It was the way their work spoke of this region; deeply intimate.

Marvin Bell read at UNC Asheville’s Reuter Center Wednesday night. I attend the reading. Arriving early, I found a place in the back and began reading through a copy of the American Poetry Review. It arrived last weekend, but I hadn’t had time to read it. Someone kicked my foot and I looked up to find a smiling Sebastian Matthews who found a seat next to me. That reading was marvelous and the conversation afterwards with other poets and writers was equally nice. I wanted to greet Marvin Bell, but I lost courage and remembered I had to get home and check on correspondence with the author of the paperback book project I’m developing.

Thursday night, after missing the bus, I realized I’d missed my exercise routine all week. I had a 30-minute, two mile routine that I try to accomplish three times a week. So I walked to the Asheville Transit Center as a way to get back on track. It’s two miles exactly. Since I was a block away from Asheville Brewing Company, I popped in for a quick pint of Ninja Porter and a Rocky’s Philly Cheesteak. I think Drinking Liberally was meeting there, but I had to dash off or I’d miss the bus again. I’m glad it’s Friday. I hope I don’t miss the weekend.

Resignation a bit rocky

For the last four or five weeks I’ve been tormented. Should I, or shouldn’t I continue contributing to Write Stuff. See, I’ve been extremely busy in my professional life (of publishing other people’s books) that I felt that my contributions were lacking the quality I wanted to deliver. So I emailed the site’s leader this weekend and politely resigned and promised to deliver one final contribution: Rainless among marram.

This morning I read today’s Write Stuff post about defining genres and left a comment that was DELETED! WTF! I mean, is it necessary to delete the comment?

My comment mentioned that genres are mainly decided by publishing companies to help bookstores sell books. In the same manner, the recording industry uses the same strategy to sell albums by differentiating their target audience by marketing a project as ‘country’ or ‘alt country’ or ‘punk americana country.’ I referenced Peter Rubie’s book Telling the Story: How to Write and Sell Narrative Nonfiction. It includes a section on how genres are defined. Rubie write to help writers pitch their work.

So, crassly speaking, genres help sell books. Or not so crassly, genres help publishers deliver titles to the correct audiences.

Why would that get DELETED? I don’t get it. Whatever. I go back to work now.

UPDATE: Not only was my post deleted, but someone else’s (username Square1) was also deleted. Thanks to Google Reader (I RSS the Write Stuff comments), I was able to learn this detail. I wonder if there is a glitch in their comments software, because Square1 left a comment on my final Write Stuff post, Rainless among marram that was not deleted.

Confessions : 06

01. I got less than five hours of sleep last night.
02. Three poem sketches were written due to this insomnia.
03. The first time I’ve written poetry since the writers residency in July.
04. I’ve been developing other people’s books for publication,
05. and neglecting my own literary efforts.
06. I am supposed to be writing regularly column for The Indie, but I haven’t submitted anything in two months.
07. I am supposed to be doing something important right now…
08. but one spreadsheet looks just like all the others…

Write Stuff: Pursuit of the personal essay

I’ve been sharing what I learned during a 5-week writing course in my Write Stuff columns. This week’s piece, Rain–everyone needs it like everyone needs a great narrative, continues the story.

Last week’s post, Rain intensifies the drama of the question, evoked the following response:

…one of the most profound statements I’ve ever read. —Tammi

DIWATA: poster design

DIWATA

[Click on image to download image]

A recently completed poster design for A Third World Asheville Gathering.

Write Stuff: The art of personal essay

For my Write Stuff post I’ve been sharing what I learned during a 5-week writing course. Later I will explore what I gleaned from a 1-week writers residency.

This week’s piece, Rain intensifies the drama of the question, continues the story.

Last week’s post, Where does rain come from?, evoked the following responses:

One of the things that I don’t like about taking classes… is the people who fall over themselves to impress the instructor and can’t follow instructions. —Finn

I believe that the majority of people there are just like you – they simply want to learn the ins and outs of the craft and ultimately become better writers…. At any rate, have more confidence in your writing abilities because… judging by what you’ve contributed to this blog so far, you are well on your way to becoming one of the greats. —Karen

I’m sure that your essay didn’t seem silly… the… polished pieces are jumping ahead of the process and undermining your teacher’s efforts. —Tammi

Write Stuff: Learning the art of personal essay

Write Stuff writers and readers have expressed their interest and learning what I learned during a 5-week writing course and a 1-week writer residency. This week’s piece [link] begins the story of my experience and what I’ve learned and hope to share.

Confessions : 05

01. I did not attend Bele Chere, Asheville’s biggest party of the year.
02. I wanted to.
03. No I did not.
04. I only wanted to attend the Kenny Wayne Shepherd concert.
05. My urban garden looks pathetic.
06. I am supposed to be writing regularly column for The Indie, but I haven’t submitted a story in over a month.
07. I am supposed to be contributing original street/citizen-journalism writings to a city blog called Asheviller. (If you are familiar with Gothamist and Seattlest then you get the idea of Asheviller.)
08. I designed and launched a new website, Coffeehouse Junkie, as a beta version, but haven’t had time to develop the individual pages.
09. I’m listening to Vanessa Boyd’s Unkept Woman on iTunes.
10. My laptop’s battery is at a critical depletion point and I need to rejuice the MBP.

Intense

Currently, I am in the middle of an intense writing class. When I came across this article (via Boing Boing [Link]) this morning I was struck by this well crafted introduction:

I didn’t want to go back.

When I began reporting from Iraq in 2002, I was still a wild and somewhat naïve twenty-four-year-old kid. Five years later, I was battle-weary. I had been there longer than the American military and had kept returning long after most members of the “coalition of the willing” had pulled out. Iraq had become my initiation, my rite of passage, but instead of granting me a new sense of myself and a new identity, Iraq had become my identity. Without Iraq, I was nothing. Just another photographer hanging around New York. In Iraq, I had a purpose, a mission; I felt important.

Read the rest here [Link].

As far as a personal essay goes, the first sentence gets the reader into the story by asking “why” and presents an authentic voice that hooks the reader into the story.

Blotter Blurbs & Words: June 16