Well, GFT Press doesn’t want the four poems I sent. They zapped over the rejection letter the day before Thanksgiving. I guess they didn’t want me worrying about whether my work would be accepted during my holiday dinner, which very well could have given me indigestion. It was a nice rejection letter, though. They even… Read More Happy Thanksgiving to me (or rejection #1)
I’m no longer a National Novel Writing Month virgin. Or at least I think I’m not. Do you have to complete the whole month before you’re no longer a first-timer? I signed up for NaNoWriMo because I need an extra push. I want to flail outside of my boundaries. I want to get good and uncomfortable and… Read More And so it begins (or, NaNoWriMo! NaNoWriMo!)
Wow, I’ve been away for a bit. And I have a good excuse, too. I had to rewrite my book yet again. I’m not sure what the title will be at this point. I originally chose Waiting For My Daughter’s Ghost, but my agent wants to change it to Last Walk With Willie Nelson, which points to a… Read More Moose, mountains and final, final edits
I’ve mentioned it before: I receive a lot of rejections. The actual number, of course, varies upon the time of year, my confidence level and my writing output. I usually have three pieces out in circulation at any point, and with the average literary magazine accepting less than 1-5% of submissions–well, you do the math.… Read More Don’t let rejection freak you out (and goodbye, Phillip Levine)
I recently had to say goodbye to my dog, Beebs. She was almost 15 and had been sick on and off for weeks. She couldn’t walk well, I often had to hold her as she peed, and she had been pooping in the house for over a year. Her hair was falling out, she wouldn’t… Read More Eulogy for Beebs, the best damned dog in the world
Well, it happened: My adolescent crush died. Rod McKuen passed away last Thursday. According to a New York Times article, McKuen, 81, had been ill with pneumonia. McKuen’s numerous poetry books (29) sold millions, and he also penned popular songs. (Remember Seasons in the Sun? “We had joy/we had fun/we had seasons in the sun/….”) While McKuen… Read More Goodbye, Rod McKuen (or, what is “real” poetry)
Isn’t it funny, the things that haunt us? Last weekend I covered a summer festival in my newspaper beat town and as I drove to the store afterwards, I noticed something white in the middle of the road. At first I thought it was a plastic trash bag but then realized, with a sick feeling in my stomach, that it was… Read More White cat, in the middle of the road (and William Carlos Williams)
I remember in college reading Hegel (okay, I didn’t really read–mostly I just skimmed), and how the pendulum swings in one direction and back in the next, and that this variance was good for the world’s soul. I’m not sure how Hegel meant this to be interpreted but I saw it as karma. Or, in the philosophy… Read More Two more publications, and another rejection
Because today was National Poetry Day, I decided to pick the apples off our crab apple trees. Standing in the yard, my arms raised overhead as I plucked one fragrant apple after another, I thought of ancient women standing in fields, their arms raised to the heavens in grief and triumphant. I had Richard Siken’s Scheherazade… Read More Of apples, poetry and Google Glass
I woke this morning with a poem on my lips. Probably, this was unavoidable since I wrote all night and crashed on the living room couch, exhausted and weepy, my head filled with words as the sun slowly filled the room. I woke to Kathleen Jamie’s “The Tay Moses,” not the poem so much as the cadence of… Read More A psychic poetry connection
Cinthia Ritchie 