Today, I was sitting in my apartment by my window that overlooks Saint Nicholas Avenue. Beside the table where I do some work, I heard a hissing noise. My window is open behind me -- I'm actually not facing the window, as sometimes I get too distracted by the goings on in upper Harlem. The cars and trucks and people provide an interesting background soundtrack to my work. The noise is unfamiliar to me. I realized, my radiator started emitting heat. I moved into this apartment in Spring, so I've never experienced the radiator music. But it is saying: Fall is here. Fall is here.
I want to write a more writerly post here, since that is what I sort of started this blog for. I mentioned last blog that I started this bigger project at school, and I'm most excited about it. Books I'm reading that are inspiring me:
Lorca's Poet in New York (and indirectly, Reyes' Poeta en San Francisco)
Rita Dove's Thomas and Beulah (most of all the books)
Sanchez's Does Your House Have Lions?
I've done probably more prose writing around this project than I have poems. Here's a list of poems (titles are stand-ins, maybe. I might keep them.)
Gryphon's mother makes a promis to God
Gryphon & the flashing flames
Gryphon as a young boy
Gryphon's mother: dream one
Gryphon & Toby & Tutu
I recognize that these titles mean nothing to you right now. Who is Gryphon? He is a young boy coming of age in Charleston, South Carolina. He and his mother are fighting this battle, concurrently, against each other, with and against the world. It is about a house and a turtle and a young boy and his mother. The rest of the family is second to this storyline.
About the prose writing: I'm finding that because I sort of have a larger story that I'm trying to break into smaller poems, I do a lot of thinking. I decided to do my thinking in one journal, the same journal where the poems originate. So I have one journal that has my notes, my thoughts, my connections, my questions. It is serving very helpful to my busy lifestyle, also. This new life I've been given has forced me to stretch myself in new ways. No longer does my muse speak to me in whole poems in one sitting -- as it once has! -- rather, I am never really sitting around in one space long enough (in truth, I called out of work to have a few moments to sit down) for a poem to come. So I get glimpses and snatches and write them in this one journal. So all of my thinking that I would do in one sitting, I sort of dump into my journal and then when I sit down the night before my class to write the poem, I don't feel overwhelmed at the blank page, rather, I find I have pages and pages of notes to cull from, and starts and images. And a poem soon emerges.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Columbus Day
Today is a little bit of a holiday for me because my part-time work is so closely related to NYC Public schools. The students get the day off; I get the day off. So, I'm taking the little bit of time I have to update a bit on my life.
NYU -- I started the Master of Fine Arts Creative Writing program this fall. It's been an interesting ride. I came to the program on the heels of a month-long residency in which I sort of rested a lot, edited...and just dreamed about what I might start writing at school. I got in my workshop - working with poet Sharon Olds - and between being in her space and talking with a friend, I started this project I've been dreaming about for years. Years. I'll just say, it's about creating a family myth...and a turtle. and a little boy named Gryphon.
How God Ends Us -- the book is out in the world and circulating. Last Monday, I visited Adelphi University's Creative Writing program because one of the graduate classes read my book. It was my first time doing that sort of thing. Just the month before I flew down to South Carolina to give a talk on "The Art of Risk in Poetry" with poets Sharon Olds and Rosanna Warren. It's been interesting that my position in the poetry world is shifting: to one of teacher, to one of I have something to say, and folks want to come hear my say.
Internship -- so, as if I were not busy enough, I took an internship at a really cool New York magazine. I don't want to put my whole business out there, but it's a pretty big deal. I get to sit hours and hours and read slush and hope to "discover" a poet...although, who knows.
Gym & Life -- I am finding that the busier I get the more I need something to stabilize me. I've turned to the gym. I find a time to go at least 5 times a week, and that has been an important component to my survival -- just giving myself an hour at least to just do things for myself, where I don't really have to think about much except for maybe counting numbers of repetitions for crunches, or turning up the resistance knob on the spinning bike. Also, another mainstay for my stability is Sunday. I get up and go to the gym, then church, then come home and cook a Sunday dinner. Most times, I invite people over. Come and eat and break bread with me, and let's usher in a whole new week.
NYU -- I started the Master of Fine Arts Creative Writing program this fall. It's been an interesting ride. I came to the program on the heels of a month-long residency in which I sort of rested a lot, edited...and just dreamed about what I might start writing at school. I got in my workshop - working with poet Sharon Olds - and between being in her space and talking with a friend, I started this project I've been dreaming about for years. Years. I'll just say, it's about creating a family myth...and a turtle. and a little boy named Gryphon.
How God Ends Us -- the book is out in the world and circulating. Last Monday, I visited Adelphi University's Creative Writing program because one of the graduate classes read my book. It was my first time doing that sort of thing. Just the month before I flew down to South Carolina to give a talk on "The Art of Risk in Poetry" with poets Sharon Olds and Rosanna Warren. It's been interesting that my position in the poetry world is shifting: to one of teacher, to one of I have something to say, and folks want to come hear my say.
Internship -- so, as if I were not busy enough, I took an internship at a really cool New York magazine. I don't want to put my whole business out there, but it's a pretty big deal. I get to sit hours and hours and read slush and hope to "discover" a poet...although, who knows.
Gym & Life -- I am finding that the busier I get the more I need something to stabilize me. I've turned to the gym. I find a time to go at least 5 times a week, and that has been an important component to my survival -- just giving myself an hour at least to just do things for myself, where I don't really have to think about much except for maybe counting numbers of repetitions for crunches, or turning up the resistance knob on the spinning bike. Also, another mainstay for my stability is Sunday. I get up and go to the gym, then church, then come home and cook a Sunday dinner. Most times, I invite people over. Come and eat and break bread with me, and let's usher in a whole new week.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Updates!!
Hello out there in TV Land....
I am currently right in the middle of my residency here. Here are some pretty cool happenings:
Here's a review of my book by the SC Poet Laureate Marjory Wentworth.
Metta Sama interviewed me for the Torch poetry blog.
ESSENCE Magazine published my poem "Lament" from _How God Ends Us_ in the September issue.
Upcoming: The State Newspaper will run a small story about me & the book & the official book party August 28 in Columbia, SC.
I am currently right in the middle of my residency here. Here are some pretty cool happenings:
Here's a review of my book by the SC Poet Laureate Marjory Wentworth.
Metta Sama interviewed me for the Torch poetry blog.
ESSENCE Magazine published my poem "Lament" from _How God Ends Us_ in the September issue.
Upcoming: The State Newspaper will run a small story about me & the book & the official book party August 28 in Columbia, SC.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Forced reprieve
Last night I dodged a thunderstorm in the mountains. I heard stories from a friend who was here before I was who lost her laptop to the thunderous rains. She was trying to wade out the storm on her laptop. Her laptop is dead.
Thinking that I was smarter than that, I unplugged my laptop from the wall the two hours that the storm was passing through. You should know that my AC adaptor, for whatever reason, was already on the outs and I knew any extra electricity could possibly kill my computer or worse.
So, I tried to move my computer to a different part of my studio. This meant unplugging then re-plugging the laptop. My ac adaptor made a hissing noise then stopped working. Luckily the residency has a group computer for printing....but as of right now my computer is out of commission. I guess I am just blessed that it wasn't my hard drive.
Thinking that I was smarter than that, I unplugged my laptop from the wall the two hours that the storm was passing through. You should know that my AC adaptor, for whatever reason, was already on the outs and I knew any extra electricity could possibly kill my computer or worse.
So, I tried to move my computer to a different part of my studio. This meant unplugging then re-plugging the laptop. My ac adaptor made a hissing noise then stopped working. Luckily the residency has a group computer for printing....but as of right now my computer is out of commission. I guess I am just blessed that it wasn't my hard drive.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
30 days
Today is my first full day at the residency: The Constance Saltonstall Foundation for the Arts. I left almost immediately after I finished my summer program for my regular job. It was a whirlwind, really. And a lot of debriefing that needed to be done, but I couldn't really do because I was trying to pack and clean and get ready to uproot myself for 30 days.
I have no phone reception here. That can be either good or bad.
I've decided to not stress myself out on starting new things. But I am also not closing myself off on the possibility of something new. However, I've come to the conclusion that I need to really dedicate some time to revision, to re-visioning certain things: namely my two manuscrips of poetry...and I would like to see a more solid "draft" of my novel. So I will have my editorial hat on for the next thirty days.
Look for minor updates here and there.
Best,
DeLana.
I have no phone reception here. That can be either good or bad.
I've decided to not stress myself out on starting new things. But I am also not closing myself off on the possibility of something new. However, I've come to the conclusion that I need to really dedicate some time to revision, to re-visioning certain things: namely my two manuscrips of poetry...and I would like to see a more solid "draft" of my novel. So I will have my editorial hat on for the next thirty days.
Look for minor updates here and there.
Best,
DeLana.
Friday, June 26, 2009
_Cartographer_ edit #1
While my mom watches the MSNBC tribute to Michael Jackson in the background, I'm going to update a bit bout my progress on Cartographer.
I had two epigraphs. I cut one. I believe this one standing alone will mean more. I then proceeded to read each poem out loud in the coffeeshop, listening for wording and phrasing. Trying to capture line-breaks in the right places as well as punctuation.
Here's the breakdown of the manuscript so far. There are four sections in the 4 cardinal directions. One section is a long poem (hence the big difference between page count and number count):
Page count: 51 pages.
# of poems: 31.
I didn't take any poems out this round (that happenened in the previously mentioned post about manuscripting). I have one poem that I re-made drastically, I believe in an attempt to salvage it...to keep from cutting it.
Here's a look at an evolution. I'm still undecided if it's going to keep its place in the manuscript, however, I'm enjoying taking the stretch...recycling, if you will
draft (a)
A quarter's worth
"Let me say this to you before my quarter runs out" - man in nyc
It is dusk when I pace Broadway -
Spanish a backdrop of syncopated noise.
I curse myself for having no desire
to learn, yet yours is the first distinguishable
voice, inflected English a torch
against midnight. I see you, duffle bag
slouched over your shoulder, back arched
into the cubby-hold of the telephone booth.
Such urgency in your ocmmand. I pause
to let you speak - I want to know what
you can say here and now. What do you have
to say from a payphone where passersby
can eavesdrop, stop and listen? You slam
the phone down, let curses slip from your mouth.
I try to imagine myself in your place, try
to think how much time, how many words
can a quarter buy you after all?
------------------------------------------------
draft (b)
Analog
Your cell phone is lost and you dare search your purse for a quarter. Spanish a backdrop of syncopated noise, his inflected English your only torch against the night. Despite his huddle, you hear threats from the body of the blackened phone booth that holds the man like a hug. He screams into the receiver for his quarter's worth of time. You wonder how many words the silver coin can purchase. Evolution: You divvy up your allotted minutes among your dearly beloved; text messages taught you economy of language: fifteen taps to get the point. And the mouth never utters a word.
I had two epigraphs. I cut one. I believe this one standing alone will mean more. I then proceeded to read each poem out loud in the coffeeshop, listening for wording and phrasing. Trying to capture line-breaks in the right places as well as punctuation.
Here's the breakdown of the manuscript so far. There are four sections in the 4 cardinal directions. One section is a long poem (hence the big difference between page count and number count):
Page count: 51 pages.
# of poems: 31.
I didn't take any poems out this round (that happenened in the previously mentioned post about manuscripting). I have one poem that I re-made drastically, I believe in an attempt to salvage it...to keep from cutting it.
Here's a look at an evolution. I'm still undecided if it's going to keep its place in the manuscript, however, I'm enjoying taking the stretch...recycling, if you will
draft (a)
A quarter's worth
"Let me say this to you before my quarter runs out" - man in nyc
It is dusk when I pace Broadway -
Spanish a backdrop of syncopated noise.
I curse myself for having no desire
to learn, yet yours is the first distinguishable
voice, inflected English a torch
against midnight. I see you, duffle bag
slouched over your shoulder, back arched
into the cubby-hold of the telephone booth.
Such urgency in your ocmmand. I pause
to let you speak - I want to know what
you can say here and now. What do you have
to say from a payphone where passersby
can eavesdrop, stop and listen? You slam
the phone down, let curses slip from your mouth.
I try to imagine myself in your place, try
to think how much time, how many words
can a quarter buy you after all?
------------------------------------------------
draft (b)
Analog
Your cell phone is lost and you dare search your purse for a quarter. Spanish a backdrop of syncopated noise, his inflected English your only torch against the night. Despite his huddle, you hear threats from the body of the blackened phone booth that holds the man like a hug. He screams into the receiver for his quarter's worth of time. You wonder how many words the silver coin can purchase. Evolution: You divvy up your allotted minutes among your dearly beloved; text messages taught you economy of language: fifteen taps to get the point. And the mouth never utters a word.
Manuscripting
I'm in Columbia, South Carolina. I've reached a place where I no longer refer to it as "home"...rather, my parent's house. Whenever I do come to South Carolina, I find being uprooted (interesting, returning to the South is now an "uprooting") from my dailyness of New York City life (or lack) gives me a certain perspective, and allows me to do a certain work. I came down with some goals in mind: editing.
I've got two "complete" drafts of things I wrote in 2008: my novel, a second book. I've spent a lot of time on others' blogs where they discuss their methods of revision. A lot to soak in; a lot to learn.
So. A couple of weeks ago, out of frustration and maybe a little bit of insecurity, I moved around my manuscript, Cartographer. I moved poems from the front to the back, from the back to the front. Took some out. Then, I let it sit. Now, I want to believe I'm ready to go back to it with a different eye.
Reading this book, is also helping me in a lot of ways.
Maybe, too, I'll chart my progress here.
I've got two "complete" drafts of things I wrote in 2008: my novel, a second book. I've spent a lot of time on others' blogs where they discuss their methods of revision. A lot to soak in; a lot to learn.
So. A couple of weeks ago, out of frustration and maybe a little bit of insecurity, I moved around my manuscript, Cartographer. I moved poems from the front to the back, from the back to the front. Took some out. Then, I let it sit. Now, I want to believe I'm ready to go back to it with a different eye.
Reading this book, is also helping me in a lot of ways.
Maybe, too, I'll chart my progress here.
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