The Thunderstorms of Spring

Yes, it is true. We've been having a good number of them in recent days. Most of the town has gone to flowers and the long hard days of February seem to be nicely behind us. I've been rather behind updating this page. This has as much to do the effects of teaching, grad school, and general outside reading load that might be a tad bit too heavy for my own sanity. The best way to learn to write better is to read those you admire most. I might be taking my advice too liberally.

I forgot to report that Zaum 13 is out. It really is a nicely designed journal (I'm quite taken by the cover)and has some pretty cool things going on inside. My poem "Misplaced Nashville Skyline" appears in it. There are lot of solid poems in the journal, along with art work, that make it worth picking up for a read.

Work continues in earnest on a new poetry series looking into the lexicographical connection between Canadians and their landscape. Being from Ontario might make this just a biased as most of the critics out there would assume it to be. There is a long list of unique Canadianisms that could make for some interesting explorations of the power of the performative and words in our relationships to the world around us. I've been looking pretty hardcore in the history of OED this semester and this series will undoubtedly bear much of its success (or failure) to that study. My most recent short story is actually my longest to date. "The Landscapes of Hubert Pineau" is in its early draft stages and details the son of an artist and his search for a fatherly legacy on Pelee Island. There will be more to report later.

A Quick Catch-Up: Publications and Return to the Grind.

I have returned to the great southern hill country of Indiana's Monroe county after a trip up to the rust belt centre of Windsor/Detroit for a late week get away. Good news is that both cities are physically intact and fire brimstone haven't actually welled up and out of the river, yet. We managed to catch our first game at WFCU Centre and eat a little Pho. All in all, a very successful trip. I just love the feel of rust in the air. What can I say.

There are a couple of publications of note that just came out. Only of note because I have some work appearing in them. The first is a big shout out to READ THIS, who have published their spring issue. You will note that I manage to grace the pages of the issue with a few fellow IU MFAers. It's good to see that they are still cranking out some solid issues, keeping the dream alive in Bozeman, MT. My piece is an excerpt of a longer short story I wrote while working at the Ambassador Bridge almost a decade ago. "Glimpses of Honolulu Blue" finally sees the light of day. You can read the whole issue at Read This Website.

The San Pedro River Review has released their inaugural issue. They are based out of Tucson, AZ and are affiliated with a local press there. I just received my contributor's copy and I really enjoy many of poems in it. My poem "The Lilies of Riverie Canard" appears in it. It's a publication of quality that I am ecstatic to have my name associated with. If anyone is looking for copies you will have to contact them directly. I believe they have a special for institutional copies.

I'm returning to work on a couple of poetry pieces and the longer bits of novella compilation. My first pantoum is in the middle drafting stages and "To Come Upon the River Narrows" (once Bastion of Industrial Decline) is about to get fired back up again. There is a potential mythology ala Duluoz I can see emerging. Be Bold. Writing is only for those with the wherewithall to withstand the punishment.

Berry and Caple's The Notebooks: A Great Read For Writers

A couple of weeks back, while exploring the upper reaches of the Herman B. Wells Library here at IU, I came came across this rather thick book entitled The Notebooks: Interviews and New Fiction from Contemporary Writers. It was in the Canadian Lit section and being just one of those sidenotes to my searches for fiction set in urban Canada, I grabbed it. This book, edited by Michelle Berry and Natalee Caple, has ended being one of the those absolutely invaluable reads for me.

The title gives away most of what this book does. Each section starts with a reproduction of the notebook of one of these Canadian writers and then drops us into a draft of a work in progress by the given writer. What then follows are interviews with the artists about craft and typically the state of the art in Canada. Taken as a whole, each artist section are fantastic individual explorations of the creative process. While each writer is unique and their take on both the craft and the industry are informative and entertaining.

What writers are in this particular collection? Yann Martel (Life of Pi) is clearly the one name that many would recognize. But you also have Hal Niedzviecki of Broken Pencil fame (If you haven't head about it, check it out. They have really cool Writer's Deathmatch. They're based out of Toronto), and Andrew Pyper (Lost Girls). I wouldn't just recommend the book for those that are familiar with the names listed above. It's just worth it to find some new writers and see what they are doing right. It is simply nice to see the state of the craft is alive and well in the Great White North. And while this book is a little on the older side (2002), it really does hold something quite useful for the writer.

The edition I've been looking at was put out by Anchor Canada (Random House Affliate I believe), and it should be available on Amazon.com or Chapters.ca.

Mondays need Happy Songs

The sun is back here in Bloomington and after a long day of editting and revising it feels very welcome. Sometimes this whole writing thing seems to be too damned competitive and we all just need to take a step back and maybe breath. I'm not referring to anything particular event, but just that general malaise of received at least six times the rejection letters than acceptance letters. Well, at least most the rejection letters are at least nice ones. I'm starting to hate the whininess of this post already, so lets turn the ship here.

Music cures the soul, right? As I said before that I spent yesterday working and listening to tunes and this song somehow came up. It reminded me of trips of Amherstburg and driving I-75 south in my childhood. We had an old beast of brown station wagon and my father would be slurping the majestic red cans of Bud during or travels (I'm pretty sure he wasn't driving at those moments). Here's to mustaches, tight clothes, and 1970s pop. There must be a story or a poem in there somewhere.

Grunge, Subversive Poetic Activities, and Greyness

I got an email from a fellow writer declaring that would should actively pursue the return of Grunge to forefront of the American Art scene. I must admit to a certain desire to pursue this plot to successful end. I more or less started to come of age in this grunge era (yep, long johns, shorts, wool socks, I had it all), and a large part of me really would enjoy this coming back. Oh, Oulette Street, the Second Cup, and the power of being in a half-illusionary band. It might help the bleakness of spring/late winter in the mid west a little better. For some reason this song came to me (Dollar Bill - Screaming Trees) and really felt the need to post it. I might even try to build this into a short story set in Windsor. Sorry it's not the original music video.

Notes Concering the Mid-February Blues

'Tis true, those blues just keep a rolling. For such a short month, the greyness of days certainly seems to really stretch out those 28 days into an immeasurable chasm of general blahness. The whole body seems lathargic, just waiting for glorious thing to happen at some later date. Perhaps the one motioned to by the arrival of sun. All minor complaints given the current status of countless other people in the country.

I've been slaving away inside over these past few weeks trying to finish up the first workshop story for the semester. What's come is a monster, my longest complete piece to date, a 6100 word monster set in Bozeman, MT. The funny thing is that after I fashion the final, and rather short scene earlier today, I clearly felt a weight lift. I was starting to have dreams about my characters. I was becoming concerned for my sanity and perception of reality. Hopefully, with the completion of the manuscript for "Light Upon the Bridgers" will put myself back in the midst of the insanity of my own dreams.

I have been reading way too many form of poetry books recently. I tore through Robert Hayden's Collected Prose book last week. I'll post an in depth review once things slow up around here. I just started Nims Western Wind: An Introduction to Poetry. I can and must tell that is a must have book even thus far into it. Again, I will post more on it in the next weeks. It really seems as though it is a brilliant catch all for poetics and questions around composition.

Lastly, for something of just pure fun check out the New Michigan Press for there most recent chapbooks. They are all beautifully designed and are available on Amazon. For the more ridiculous to look at and maybe even purchase (I'm really thinking about it) look at the bottom of this t-shirt list at MFA t-shirts. How cool are these? http://newmichiganpress.com/nmp/tshirts.html

Western Longings - Hemingway, ALO, and the West on Paper.

Maybe it was all that Hugo that read, maybe it was the snow-laiden streets of Bloomington, or maybe it was just the passage of time, but I've been trapped in this feeling of longing for the West all week. All this industrial haze must get on the individual's nerves after awhile. I've managed to turn the longing into some positive work, but aside the novella for a couple of weeks to crank out some workshop short fiction. Oh, Bozeman how will you fare in the workshop environs of the midwest?

I always use music to drive my craft and as such I've turned to the appropriate "jam" pieces that really highlighted my western migration. My most recent piece, set along Bozeman's mainstreet, is being design with the rhythms of the Grateful Dead and Animal Liberation Orchestra. That smooth gliding funk of certain songs really help to conjure up the way light plays off the mountains of Montana. You don't work at a ski hill (I stray from the term resort of a reason) and not become at least partially inspired by the beauty you see every day. Hence the title "Light upon the Bridgers."

I've been readng Larry Philips collection "Ernest Hemingway on Writing," and it has been at least somewhat enlightening. There is a comment that Ernie wrote to someone in his family about the secret of fiction being poetry. The greatest distiller of the language of prose fiction clearly sees the merging point of the two genres. Creativity is creativity, and without the beauty of concrete metaphors and similies what is writing but threadbare newsprint? I'll leave that yo journalists.

All things being what they are, I'll leave this posting with a little Animal Liberation Orchestra. May all your western dreams burn brightly and winter recede quickly under spring's growing fingers.