Saturday
Oct162010

Fast Five with Kelli Russell Agodon

Because five questions can lead to endless insight, I'm happy to introduce you to Kelli Russell Agodon. Her poetry collection, Letters from the Emily Dickinson Room, is easily my favorite book of 2010.

Born and raised in Seattle, Washington, Kelli Russell Agodon is the author of two poetry books, and is editor of Crab Creek Review. Letters from the Emily Dickinson Room was published this month and is dedicated to "those who write letters to the world."

You can win a free copy of this book. Simply post your name in the comments section below. The drawing will be held on Saturday, Oct. 23, 2010.  

I was delighted to see that many of these poems — and the book title — were influenced by your stay at the Sylvia Beach Hotel in Newport, Oregon, which is very near where I live. Which came first, the poem-letters, or the Emily Dickinson Room?

The poem-letters. I had been working on the collection for about two years when I stayed in the Emily Dickinson Room at the Sylvia Beach Hotel on a writing retreat with friends. It was in that room where I realized what I was writing about and was able to focus my collection and begin to write the poems that were missing. The title poem, “Letter from the Emily Dickinson Room” was written in that corner hotel room looking out at the Oregon coast realizing how much I craved calmness.

How would you describe your writing style?

If you’re asking about my style as in my method or process then my writing style is to write as many poems as I can and revise the ones I like best.  (And to try not to over-revise, something I’m quite good at.  I have killed many a poem by over-revising it and sucking out all of its energy and every spark.)

If you’re asking about my writing style as in characteristics or what is my voice or distinct form and/traits, then my writing style is conversational, sometimes surreal, sometimes narrative, sometimes humorous, usually accessible and with a dash of darkness for kicks.

Or maybe my writing style is glasses plus casual Fridays and black boots.

What is your favorite poem in this collection? Why?

Great question!  I like having to think about this as my easy answer would be, “They are all my favorites…”  But if I have to narrow it down to one, I’d say, Questions at Heaven’s Gate is probably my favorite because it was an underdog poem that I stood up for.  When my manuscript was accepted, I received some great advice on edits and suggestions on what poems to take out to make the collection stronger. This was one of the poems that was on the suggested “remove list.”

I remember feeling a deep gut instinct inside me that said: This poems needs to be in the collection.  On a personal level, this is very deeply an autobiographical poem about my father’s death and who he was, and in a certain way, how I’ve dealt with it (imagining him speaking with God, etc.). I love that I had to speak up for this poem and was glad I did.  I think it’s my favorite because it was almost not included.

Questions at Heaven's Gate (an excerpt)

I
When my father meets God
he says, Let me introduce myself . . .

When my father meets God
he says, Am I too early? Too late?

When my father meets God
he says, Do you serve drinks here?

When my father meets God
he says, It was easier not to believe.

When my father meets God
he says, I can see my house from up here.

When my father meets God
there is only the sound of my father
falling.

When my father meets God
he says, I can breathe again.

When my father meets God
rain returns to the city.

As an editor of a literary journal choosing from hundreds of poems to publish, what do you love? What do you loathe? 

I love poems that surprise me (and not in that shocking, swearing, taboo words/subjects way), but in fresh language, new images and putting the extraordinary into the ordinary. Anyone can write a poem about a shocking topic and have it stand out because it’s about a tragic occurrence or because of the nature of the subject, but I’m interested in writers who can write about a shopping trip, the forest, an experience in a way that connects me and makes me stop and pay attention.

There’s little I loathe beside people being unkind or poor manners. There’s more to love in poetry than to dislike.

I’m a collector of words and have my students collect words, too. What are your favorite words?

Hipsway, lollygagging, inky, salsa, penlight, oaf, shenanigans, tangle, moth, humdrum, hipbones, madronas, whiplash, bamboozle, numbskull, foxtrot, and prayer (though not necessarily in that order).

My least favorite word is filibuster

To win Letters from the Emily Dickinson Room, add your name and contact info in the comments section below by Friday, Oct. 22nd. Feeling shy? Email me!:  dcm@drewmyron.com

Your name will be entered in a random drawing. The winner will be announced on Saturday, October 23, 2010. 

Tuesday
Oct122010

Thankful Thursday: Sister-Friend 

Gratitude. Appreciation. Praise. Please join me in Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to appreciate people, places & things.

Today I am grateful for my sister. 

It's not enough that she is raising six kids (three of which she and her husband adopted) and has, over the years, been foster mom to three other youngsters.

Now she offers even more inspiration: My sister Cindi has lost 75 pounds — steadily, healthfully — and has become what she haltingly calls a "real runner."

Two months ago she ran her first 5k, and last month completed her first duathalon. This is shocking! Cindi never ran, never even walked fast. She and I were sportless children, happy to hang out, watch Brady Bunch, and eat Capn' Crunch. 

Now she runs four to five miles each day. All her life, she has struggled with weight, gaining and losing the same dreadful pounds. Those of us who battle our bodies are well versed in the "eat less, move more" mantra. Knowing how to lose weight is the easy part. The real challenge is moving the body and changing the mind — day after day after day.

Even with this dramatic turnaround, Cindi is bashful about her success. "Oh, I've got a long way to go," she says, dismissing my praise. "This is the hardest thing I've ever done," she adds,  forgetting (or unfettered by) the burden of youngsters demanding everything her heart can give.

The weight loss is not just about fitting into the skinny jeans. Cindi is modeling good health for her family. At her daughter's grade school, she's active in the running club (while the other mothers walk and chat, Cindi runs).  And for her first 5k, she and her 12 year-old trained and raced together. 

Most important, she has finally put herself first. Sometimes that's the hardest part, she says. To let go of guilt. To feel worthy of time and effort when family needs press for attention.

"Today, instead of eating the box of chocolates, I went for a run," she says after a stressful day. "The old me would have ate like crazy. Today I chose to work out. I think I'm making progress."

More than progress, I say. Cindi is nourishing mind and body in the best possible way, and inspiring others (me!) to do the same. On this Thankful Thursday, I am thankful for Cindi, my sister and friend.

 How about you?  What are you thankful for today?

 

Tuesday
Oct122010

A few good things 

Empire State Building, photograph by Thomas Hawk, appearing on tinywords.com

My head is full of assorted goodies. Let me share a few with you:

Tiny Words
Clean, spare design and strong work makes this website stand out from the crush of touchy-feely poetry choices. At Tiny Words, each season offers a new theme, and this fall the emphasis is on urban haiku. Bring on the city grit!

The Writer's Almanac
Free is my favorite word (along with frugal, bargain and betwixt). Everyday, The Writer's Almanac, a Garrison Keillor project, emails me a fresh poem for free. Some I love. Some I don't. But like fishing, a day of bad poems beats no poems at all.

Spirit First Poetry Contest
In 2010, its inaugural year, this contest received 750 poems from 42 states and 23 countries. It's back again — with cash prizes. Even better, there's no entry fee. That's what they call nothing to lose.

 

 

Friday
Oct082010

You'll kill. 

Got a reading this weekend? Just in time — this nugget of advice from Lorin Stein, editor of the Paris Review:

It’s not your job to be ingratiating. Leave that to lounge singers. I find it embarrassing when a poet tries to be liked, or explain what he or she was thinking when she wrote blah-blah-blah. Patter is just a distraction—an apology.

My advice: Memorize the poems you plan to read. Anything spoken by heart commands attention. Bring the poems with you, so you can consult them if need be—but really, the way to win an audience over is to get up there, say your poems in a loud, clear voice, face out. Then say thank-you and get off stage.

You’ll kill.


Thursday
Oct072010

Thankful Thursday: In Waiting

Gratitude. Appreciation. Praise. Please join me in Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to appreciate people, places & things.

My head and heart feel a bit brittle this week. I am waiting to chip, waiting to feel the appreciation buried a bit too deep. In the meantime, I am thankful for:

• Letters
The world is full of paper. 
Write to me.

— Agha Shahid Ali from "Stationery"

I love long, complicated, searching-the-heart letters. In a pinch, an email or Facebook message will appease. But really, I pine for pen on paper, words folded to fit an envelope that travels miles to find me.

• Kindness
On a hotel marquee I find wise words:
Be kind to unkind people, they need it the most.

And that reminds me of one of my favorite poems. I am thankful to have favorite poems, and to share them with others, who may (in a letter ?) say, Yes, I feel that way, too. And then suddenly, we are not alone, not brittle, waiting.

Kindness

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.

Naomi Shihab Nye
from The Words Under the Words: Selected Poems