The Doctor Is In...

There are two things a poet can do that will change the work for the positive and permanently: 1) teach poetry, and 2) serve on a literary journal.

Teach what you want to learn has so much merit yet is often diminished. There are those who ascribe to the myth, Those who can, do; those who can't, teach. In reality, the opposite is true. We teach and are constantly forced to affirm and confirm every bit of our belief system and knowledge of the craft. The greater the age range of our students, the better we have to be at articulating our skill and fielding the full spectrum of challenges and questions our students will present. As we share our personal perspective on poetry and how to achieve success within the poem, much less the field, we are teaching ourselves, reminding ourselves. As we see our theories unfold in our students' growth, we are relearning what we already try to achieve ourselves and it is strength we may find. We may even change. If we are true to ourselves, we will never settle for complacency or believe we hold the golden ticket to the gates of Poetry.

As an editor of a journal, one is faced with the reality of how many poets are out there. We live by and share a mythic belief that this is a solitary experience. I disagree and I started formulating my opinion in the days of early Slam. Then I joined the editorial family of Comstock Review and I came to witness the vast population of poets yearning for the page and audience. I also witnessed season after season of themes: travel, sepia-toned photos, critically ill family member, the seasons, gardens, the sea, deer, cats, divorce, first babies, ars poetica, and of course, death. There is an odd synchronicity that draws a particular concentration of a theme or form in a reading period, almost as if the poets were responding to a particular call for submission.

What an editor sees is the small number of themes available to any writer, any generation, regarding the human condition and our place within it. Much has already been said, probably someone has said it better than me, and the experimentation has probably run its course. I search for a poem that has an individual stamp on a universal concept in tone, voice, structure, music, approach. I search for that in my own poetry as well. I can never expect of others what I will not attempt myself.

In the 20 years I have since I fully, verbally reclaimed my identity as poet in the Blasland, Bouck, & Lee Division 10 break room in August 1994, I have taught a great deal and I have read a lot of poems. I have also offered valuable critique throughout that time and I now have confidence that I am a strong reader capable of offering a view of the work that mirrors its greatest strengths to the poet.

In these two decades, I have also put four books together as well as a number of issues of our journal. There is a whole other level of connection with the cycle, series, chapbook, and then full collection that is a different skill than needed to examine and grow any given poem. What is the flow of the work for the reader? How does one create an entertaining read (in the most positive sense of the word), a meaningful experience that keeps the reader engaged and wanting to turn the page? How do you best serve the poem, the page, the ear, the collection, and the audience? What are you willing to change, cut, eliminate to achieve it? I am always immersed in this query as I start to place poems in proximity and sequence.

A poem is a living document, even if it is in print. It will always illustrate its ability to grow if there is the opportunity. It will let us know it can take care of itself, it has reached an acceptable maturity.

I am an editing geek. Revision is my favorite part of being a poet. Well, let me qualify that. I really love seeing my poems in print. They are on their own in the world then and hopefully they represent well.

Now that I am writing prose in various forms and teaching creative nonfiction, I am applying my same principles to essay, memoir, and blog. I am also supporting other writers in the editorial process. I have articulated a concise system to accomplish a book project from first thoughts through searching for publishers.

I have been an editorial consultant on a limited basis for years. Now I am eager to advance my practice. I am eager to work with writers who need a coach in a coach in: 1) getting started; 2) identifying the course of the book project; 3) consultation and critique on individual or groups of poems or essays; 4) assessing the body of a work for publishing opportunity; 5) line edits and other commentary in finalizing a book project; and/or 6) proofreading galleys with a clean eye. 

I am also going to continue to offer on-line small-group classes and critique workshops for those who want a workshop environment and support with a critical eye from a trusted group of peers.

I have been working with a number of writers recently and I know there are folks who can use the help. I intend to keep my fee structure reasonable and fair for both the client and myself. I am eager to support writers to meet their own goals, under the branding of Poet's Happy Dance. Perhaps I can help you?

As one friend who has engaged my support for her project declared just last week, "Georgia, you're the Book Doctor." Well, friends, the Doctor is in ... your long-term prognosis is the Poet's Happy Dance ...

Early Daylight Saving Time and the Darkness Is Lifting

http://www.ymcaofgreatersyracuse.org/arts/programs.aspx?ac=141

As I have mentioned in my brief blogging in the past months, I have been coping with a rough road. Redefining my career twice in 5 years has taken its toll, particularly as I am, as in the sage words of my dear friend Cathy Gibbons, basking in my late 50s and fearful of the vulnerability I face in a multitude of ways, not just in aging. I loved my work with Partners for Arts Education and I have loved my work in schools, for the most part. But this last couple of years of cobbling things together, hinging so much of it on the hope that Our Difficult Sunlight would translate into miraculous opportunities to deepen that work, I am seeking focus and stability. I need to find ways to continue doing what I do well and to support myself while fostering my work and identity as a poet.

I love everything I am involved with, most particularly my work with the Downtown Writers Center and the Comstock Review. I have been scattered over much of 2012 and now I feel there is more solid ground, I am clarifying my focus and commitment to both. One is a job, one is a volunteer act of love. The job is part time so, satisfying as it is, it is only a portion of what I need to keep the wolves at bay. I am working on additional income that is reliable, satisfying, and close to home.

I love working in schools but I am weary of it, all the stress, the travel, the negotiation, the ways I have to always be ready to shift in the immediate, the walking into classrooms that are unprepared for my lessons, the compressing a carefully designed program into half the time the process of learning actually requires. I do like the teachers (mostly), the students (mostly), the ways I learn more about teaching, and I love sharing my passion. I also love the checks when they arrive. I just am exhausted by it all, after 13 years of pursuing it as a career. And I am tired of being a living "Where's Waldo" book for my family and friends. I see much of the sacrifice that this career has entailed as well as the gains.

The real issue is that I have known my identity most of my life, at least since 3rd grade. I am a poet. I am relentlessly committed to that truth, even in the quiet decade in which I did not write and my faith was seriously challenged. But the words came back, as I had prayed. In the 20 years since, I have published consistently, with a chapbook, two complete volumes, and the textbook all in print. I have another collection being considered by a publisher now (I asked if he wanted first rights of refusal but am hopeful). I am working on two other collections of poetry that I am really excited about, a food memoir that is languishing somewhere in files on my computer, and now I know I am ready to start the notes that will result in a book on the craft of this confounding, amazing art form that is the spine of my soul.

There was a moment in the quiet time of my 30s to early 40s when I knew that I was being delivered back to the channel that results in poetry. No one but me would be able to decipher the difference. It was a cellular memory of what translating experience into image and language feels like. But now, I am experiencing another deepening of that jolt in the work I am producing. There is a maturity of craft that has come through years of teaching others what I believe about poetry and expression. It helps that I teach people in so many circumstances with such a wide range of age and skill. I have to make it tangible for anyone.

But the poems are surprising me. That is a great thing. They are mirroring to me how much I have embraced the notion that we teach what we want to learn. I hear and see the influence of all the poets I have taught as examples echoed in the images that unfold before me as I strive for the best word and challenge every syllable to earn its right to be spared the slash of my revision pen. I see complexity without obscurity. I hear musicality that makes me wonder where it even came from. The poems are in control and I am a diligent listener as well as servant.

I am close to solving the income problem but I also have the pining to spend my days just reading and writing and pondering and doing all those things that make a poet's life. Instead, I am sneaking things in around the obligations, even this blog post, and somehow getting books written, the bills paid once again, and seeing family and friends more frequently. I even have a dog. I think the spring will bring more growth, stronger roots, and maybe cause for celebration.