Tying Up Loose Ends—April & May

Some recap questions:

How have you defined your writing life? What do you define as success? How have you created success for yourself?

In what ways have you approached community? Built a writing community for yourself? What risks have you taken to be vulnerable and share of yourself?

What ways have you developed self-care for yourself as a writer? Do your routines incorporate ways to care for yourself and your writing?

What I’ve been reading:

Fantasy: “The Cursed Witch” by R. L. Perez (YA)

Poetry: Alicia Suskin Ostriker’s “The Volcano and After: Selected and New Poems, 2002-2019)

Nonfiction: still reading “The Body is a Doorway”—it’s magical and dense, like all of Strand’s writing.

Literary Journal: Soul Poetry, Prose and Art Magazine—they published 3 of my poems in this issue and it’s a long one! The cover is gorgeous.

What I’ve been writing:

The bees are calling me, I must admit: two solid bee poems have flown from my fingertips. I am enamored—with the bees—not sure about the poems yet; they are too young for me to tell. I am sure those poets I workshop with will give me feedback!

I’m doing a lot of rewrites and edits; specifically with my Neolithic poems—five I’m revising from the chapbook I wrote two years ago; playing with voice.

And a new project I find myself flirting with is about a man, John Coughlin. I wrote an essay about him years ago titled “My Neighbor Raised Me Right”—he was somewhere between a father, an uncle and a grandfather to me. Just a lovely human being, botanist and railroad enthusiast who was one of my greatest teachers. I’ve gotten two poems about him published recently and realized, in wrestling with a recent poem, that I don’t have to say everything in one poem (Thank you, Jen.)—that his teachings were so thick and contained so many multitudes, that they would be served better as several poems that have a phrase repeated throughout them or perhaps a similar title. I’m still teasing everything apart with this.

What’s been getting published:

I sent out a total of 53 packets of poems and 1 chapbook to 2 different presses in the last two months. I’ve had 13 poems accepted for publication. They are all being published at different times, of course—some as far as into 2026.

And because I’ve been getting so many poems published recently, I went into my computer to look at the files and count. The poems I’m in the process of editing: 27; the poems ready to be sent out: 20. This is the first time in my life, as a writer, that I’ve had more in-process poems than poems ready to be sent out. Guess I better be putting more ideas down on paper! A nice problem to have, though—not complaining.

And though I was rejected by the Famidan Journal this past month, they said “We especially enjoyed "Hydration Prophecy" and appreciated the chance to consider it.” I read somewhere that a poem has to be seen at least 100 times before it gets a positive comment; I regard this to be as important to me as an acceptance. Rarely do I receive a rejection letter where the editor lists the title of my poem. That was the seventh time “Hydration Prophecy” was seen, so I’m incredibly happy about that. (It’s a frog poem in case you were wondering.)

Also, this happened two days ago: My reading copy came in the mail!

What I’ve been thinking about:

You are the embodiment of the writing process.

A lot of the times when we step back from our writing lives to take a look at where we are, at what we’ve produced, we don’t see the full picture; we forget to include ourselves. We are the embodiment of our writing process—a vital part of our writing lives.

We see our desks, our calendars, journals, sheafs of paper, books, what we have planned and who we have collaborated with, but we forget to look within. What have we learned? Internalized? Changed? How have we been molded by our approach and relationship to writing?

Our blessings aren’t only what we’ve produced—they are also how we’ve traveled to get where we are and who we’ve become. Let’s remember to reflect on this truth as well.

Last, but not least: Free writes

I want to leave you with some free writes.

• If fire/water/air/stone/earth could dream…(pick one or one at a time)

• In another life…

• All that year…

• I remember…

(Keep your pen/pencil/marker moving even if you have to write “I don’t know what to write” or you are writing the prompt over and over—something will come—be gentle with yourself.)

(All of these photos are from a beach along the James River in Williamsburg, VA: I see so many patterns and pictures within each photograph.)