But This Death I Am Leaving
For the winterborn
Welcome to the midweek(ish) version of An Irritable Métis. This is where things are usually a little more random, a little less … irritable. If you forgot what all this is even about, you may remind yourself here. If you want to help keep a writer out of hard labor, well….
Shout out to all the new subscribers over the last few days! Welcome. I hope the bloviating that tends to reverberate in this space is something you find interesting. Just so everyone is clear on what the expectations are: I usually post something around Sunday/Monday, then again on Thursday/Friday … give or take. This one is landing on a Wednesday. That’s because I missed the Sun/Mon one. Now I’m in this weird storm between posting expectations, where the seas are high and threaten to swamp the entire enterprise at any moment. So I’m splitting the difference by doing one Wednesday — this one — and then I’m not going to worry about it again until at least Sunday. Inconsistency is our consistency up in here, friends.
I suspect the vast majority of you newcomers arrived because of this interview I did with my pal Anne Helen Petersen over at her Culture Study newsletter. What a stalwart, kind supporter she has been. I’ve said it before somewhere, but this model of direct subscription with writers really is a kind of Mutual Aid, where as readers you get to support the kind of stuff you want to read, not what infrastructures and corporations and gatekeepers and advertisers and investors want you to read. Your efforts are the only reason many of us are still working like this and I am inordinately grateful for that. I’m not saying there isn’t a place for traditional media anymore — I still love print, and radio, and all of that, and have certainly benefited from it lately — but the institution is in dire need of some resetting. A perfect example is the convenience store piece that Lyz Lenz wrote last week or so, one mentioned by AHP in the interview and one I referenced in a post last week. I seem to recall Lyz saying somewhere that she had pitched the idea for the piece around and couldn’t find any takers, and yet it is fantastic and clearly resonated with a ton of people. These are stories that need telling, and I think the industry as a whole needs to recognize that maybe it is the storytellers themselves who often have a pretty solid idea of what people are interested in hearing about, or what is important.
Anyway, you can dig that new interview with AHP right HERE. I think it’s solid.
Lamar Valley
I’ve just returned from a long weekend in the Lamar Valley of Yellowstone National Park teaching a writing workshop. It was spectacular. I think I’ll be coming back to it in a future post because it stirred up a lot of thought (and discussion) on various issues I’ve been cogitating on, particularly as they relate to conservation.
My workshop was under the auspices of Yellowstone Forever, the “official nonprofit partner of Yellowstone National Park.” And I’m doing another one in the summer! It will be officially announced on their website later this week, but August 18 – 22 I’ll be back at the Lamar Buffalo Ranch teaching a “Poetry as Spiritual Practice” workshop, a reprise (with tweaks) of an online one I did last fall for the Missoula Writing Collaborative. I’m already eager to get back out to Yellowstone. I didn’t want to leave.
Too Early?
The Lamar return was originally planned for July but the Yellowstone Forever folks were kind enough to let me reschedule because THIS GUY has extended an invitation to join him FOR THIS in July. In England. Wheels are turning and logistical discussions are blasting back and forth over the restless Atlantic but I’m determined to make it happen.
Not Too Early
This is happening in June. Details on what it’s about are forthcoming, but I’ll be back on the Blackfoot River this summer. Mark your calendars!
A Letter from Holly
The following I pulled from my friend Holly Wren Spaulding’s newsletter in support of her excellent Poetry Forge. Dig this:
It's normal and human to want to be loved, which for a writer tends to mean getting reviewed, selling books, receiving awards, and having readers or even fans. Whether we are conscious of it or not, we tend to imagine that if any of these things happen, it means our work is worthy, and we are "good." In my experience, this definition of love/success creates a high bar that many of us won't achieve, and so what might have been a pleasure or a fully realized expression of our purpose, gets tangled up with feelings of failure or the fear that no one understands or appreciates us. You may have felt shades of these difficult emotions yourself. I certainly have. And I see it in my students and it results in real suffering.
This is wonderful. I’ve been there, in writing and in just trying to muddle my way through this quiet desperation. I’ve also been fortunate to achieve more rewards, and readers, than I ever imagined I would. I don’t know why I feel compelled to share this paragraph. I just think it is very wise, it speaks to my experiences as both a storyteller and an instructor, and it reminds me that the best part of this work is the people I’ve become acquainted with. I also highly recommend you join Holly’s mailing list. As all good things in this work, it’s about more than just writing poetry….
And Finally….
In the solitude of a tiny cabin in the wee hours of a frigid February night in the Lamar Valley I finally had the opportunity to finish my friend Tara Shepersky’s debut book of poetry, Tell the Turning. It’s wonderful and arguably the most beautifully-designed book I’ve held in my hands in some time. I could not have picked a better time and place to finish it, as I’m sure Tara will agree (dedicated readers will recognize her intelligent pokings-around in these parts via the comment threads). You can check the book out HERE, and please do. Meanwhile, the title poem:
Thank you so much for your writing, Irritable Métis. At age 72, reading here and following your links and reading the comments, I'm again feeling and witnessing the hope and creative energy that was in the air, against all odds, when I was a 20-year-old woman in 1970.
I am brand new here, and yes, because of Culture Study. After a long life of concentrating efforts in my small world of family, work, surviving on many fronts, I am now widowed, my children self-sustaining and most important, kind, though with their own weaknesses that they alone can amend. And I catch my breath on the edge of despair at the tide of hate that threatens to overwhelm not just our species but the planet. Your essays and those of the authors you mention bring me back to an awareness I forgot long ago: compassion is the only way to survive in the long run. This is not to accept wordlessly the evil that is/can be done, but to understand that fighting it with one's own brand of evil only sustains it, expands it in turn. It wins no arguments and contributes nothing to rational solutions.
Thank you for reminding me of that. It is worth far more than the subscription price. Please, write on.