I’m curious: what’s
your elevator pitch for your book?
Everyone has been
in love. Everyone has been miserable because of love. But people can often
inflate the loss of a lover to elegiac, even epic proportions. This makes every
love story an
apocalypse story.
How did you come
upon the subject of your book?
Working with
teens and spending time on social media has highlighted for me the problem our
society has with scale. We ignore real tragedy all around us, but blow our own
little personal problems completely out of proportion. When I worked as dean of
students at my middle school, I had a girl tell me she was “traumatized” when
another girl rolled eyes in her direction. (A long lesson about the word “trauma”
followed.) At the time this event happened, I was reading the journals of Lewis
and Clark, intrigued by the real dangers and unknown outcomes they faced daily.
These two ideas merged - what is the most common “tragedy” people experience?
Problems with love. Viewing a relationship as a dangerous journey that leads to
personal catastrophe became an organizing principal for the poems.
And the title?
Sometimes, it seems to me, titles can strike like lightning or can be
extraordinarily elusive. How did you go about finding your title?
Titles are never
lightning strikes for me. I agonize over them. At first the book was titled
after lines in some of the poems: No Quick Misery. Washed with Hymns and
Singing. There Has Been Damage. But those didn’t seem to imply the scope of
the poems. (Some of these did become section headings in the book.) For a long
time, I called it A Brief History of Disaster. But as I
rearranged poems, cut some and wrote others, the poems took on more of a
narrative arc. I created a few ideas using the word “apocalypse,” had some
friends “vote,” and eventually arrived at the current title with some honing
from my publisher Erin Elizabeth Smith.
Tell us something
about the most difficult thing you encountered in this book’s journey.
Many of the first
poems in the manuscript used the wild and natural world of Lewis and Clark’s
journey as inspiration, and I had the notion that the entire book would be
built around this language, these images, even created several erasures and
found poems directly from the journals. I grew attached to this idea, even when
it was evident that the conceit had run its course. It was a difficult
decision, but many of those poems were cut from the manuscript, and this made
way for newer, stronger writing that moved the narrative forward. The ones that
remain are key pieces of each section. But killing those darlings and giving up
on that original idea was very hard.
And the most
pleasurable?
I am always
happiest when I am revising work. And although it is a crazy process, I also
enjoy ordering the poems in a manuscript, seeing where there are “holes,” writing
into those spaces, rearranging. The most pleasurable part was seeing that poems
of very disparate styles –prose blocks, lyrics, litanies, sonnets, free verse
poems with both vernacular and latinate language –were all living
and breathing together, creating different rhythms and pacing for the reader. I
have a tendency to write short poems, so the variety in this manuscript pleases
me very much. (And it certainly didn’t hurt that three writers who I swoon over
and admire agreed to write blurbs for the book and were so very gracious with
their praise.)
What’s the best
and / or worst piece of advice (writing or publishing or similar) you’ve
gotten?
Best? Write your
poems with fire and assume everyone will love them. But when you send them into
the world, just assume they will fail and get back to writing. This way,
acceptances are a bonus, not something you feel you are entitled to. Too much
agonizing over why a publisher did or did not want your work deters you from
the work of writing. I got this advice when I was just beginning to submit from
my friend and mentor Diana Goetsch. If I ever get caught up in thinking someone
“really should be publishing my awesome poems,” I hear her voice saying, “Do
the work.” And I do.
Worst? “Write
what you know.” Part of the fun of being a writer is creating worlds, taking on
personas and voices that are NOT your own. I doubt anyone wants to read poems
about me watching Shameless on Showtime and eating microwave popcorn in
my yoga pants. If someone does, let me know.
Tell us one of
your favorite books you’ve discovered recently and say a little about why.
One of my
favorite reads of the past six months has been Sara Eliza Johnson’s Bone Map. Perhaps this is due
to its quiet and visceral darkness, the fact that it paints portraits of both
the body and the natural world where both the body and the world are breaking.
Also it makes good use of the tropes of fairy tale and myth. The poems are
haunting in the best way, and I have returned to them more than once since
first purchasing the book.
Can you share an
excerpt from your book? Give us a taste.
This poem is one
of the Lewis and Clark poems that remains - the title is pulled directly from
the journals.
We Set Sail Under A Gentle Breeze
Suddenly, the wind
turns. A sky that has been dark
dims to white.
We run to shore, discover
a skiff with oars bent outward
like welcoming arms.
Tadpoles skitter beneath
the bow as we balance
our weight then push off.
Loose-limbed, we row
the easy current, dip
into ripples, our day long,
the hours unticked by clocks.
Recall the sermons about sloth—
this is how ruin begins.
What’s a question
you wish I asked? (And how would you answer it?)
I wish you would
have asked, “How can we as writers be good literary citizens?” It’s a pet peeve
of mine when writers expect to be supported, but don’t return the favor. I’m
not just talking about buying books, which is the obvious (but expensive) way
to support your fellow writers. I’m talking about attending reading and events where you are
NOT a reader, volunteering to read for/edit a journal, writing book reviews of
work by others, sharing what you are reading on Good Reads or Twitter, being genuinely
excited when your fellow writers experience success. I made a resolution two years ago to try and
attend at least one event a month in which I am not involved - it has helped me
discover new writers, make new friends, and learn about people in a way that has
made me a better person, not just a better writer.
OK, we’re smitten. Where do we go to buy your book?
From my website
(if you’d like a signed copy).
From SundressPublications (if you want to support a wonderful small press).
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