Many of my writer friends have remarked how it's difficult to write with COVID-19 spreading and the world in lockdown. We're worried. We're grieving. We're in shock. Because this is such a distressing time, I have not beaten myself up when I don't feel like writing. I've given myself permission not to write. Yet at the same time, I've also given myself permission to write. In a way, writing now feels like laughing at a funeral, somehow disrespectful and downright cruel. But that's what wakes are for--to reflect with affection, to allow ourselves to express our grief through every emotion, to provide an emotional release valve, and even to distract ourselves with temporary, necessary escape.
If you're a writer, first and foremost, I encourage you to do whatever feels right. That said, here are the ways I've gently re-entered the world of writing since the widespread outbreak of COVID-19... 1) Social Media. I love my writing community on Twitter and appreciate seeing their posts during this time--some of which are heartbreaking, some of which are uplifting, some of which reflect ways each of us tries to cope. To that end, I've shared my own thoughts and experiences related to the pandemic and surviving this time. They're no magnum opus, but each post is genuine and open. More importantly, I've tried to be a good literary citizen in response to fellow writers' posts. That online connection feels incredibly human and important to me now. 2. Journaling. At first, I couldn't even write in my journal. Then I decided I'd simply chronicle each day's developments--both in the world at large and also in my own little world, noting what's happening with family and friends. As any writer knows, once you start writing, more thoughts bubble to the surface. Journaling has helped me realize and articulate some of my fears, worries, observations, and hopes during this time, and getting them on paper means I don't have to hold them in the same anxious way in my mind. 3. Editing. Even pre-pandemic, when I don't feel up to writing, I edit. Technically, it's still an aspect of writing--one that doesn't require creating new content, which, frankly, feels a little daunting right now. The funny thing is, when I'm editing my own work-in-progress, it doesn't take long before I want to add some idea or detail or scene that hadn't occurred to me before, and the act of editing magically transforms into the act of writing. 4. Image Capture. At least once a day I take a moment to write down an image I observed or occurred to me after reading or walking or doing dishes or staring out the window. I let my thoughts wander a bit to see see where the image will lead me. Pedestrians stepping into the street to avoid passing one another too closely. The chihuahua barking madly when anyone steps in his yard. The skies emptied of airplanes like right after 9/11. Some develop into draft poems. Some serve only as a way to help me pay closer attention to our altered lives. Maybe I'll return to these observations at some future point. Or maybe they'll serve as practice for honing future observational skills. If nothing else, they engage my mind in something that feels more productive than churning my fears, and for now that's enough. No doubt some writers are able to be massively prolific during this crisis. I'm happy for them and impressed, too. Others might not write a word for months. If that's part of their self-care, I'm happy for them, too, and also impressed that they're meeting their needs without guilting themselves about not writing. If you're a writer and, like me, somewhere between the two, I hope you'll try these baby-steps. They make a good coping mechanism as well as distraction. On the other hand, fallow times can be an important part of the writing process. Mostly, I hope you'll do what feels right and be happy with however much you do or do not write. Seriously. No one's judging and no one's keeping score.
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I met Ethan Freckleton in October, after I'd given a talk on publishing for Whatcom Writers and Publishers. We had a fascinating conversation about writing, creative processes, and collaborations, and he invited me to continue the conversation on his podcast, The Fearless Storyteller. During the podcast, we explore topics such as the influence of walking on literature, how lateral thinking and exposure to other artistic disciplines is a great way to jumpstart your own artistic practice, and the history of writing, including how cave art from 28,000 years ago might have been the first, true underground form of publishing. I hope you'll give a listen to the podcast as well as Ethan's conversations with other writers in the various episodes of The Fearless Storyteller.
In October, I went on my second big walking challenge on France's Grande Randonnee, this time hiking the Célé and Lot Rivers (GR 651 and GR65, respectively). They are part of the Compostelle pilgrimage, known as the St. James (aka St. Jacques) Way, and one of several pilgrimages in Europe leading to the Camino de Santiago in Spain. Pictured above is part of the route, this lane leading to the cathedral in Figeac, France, and where we began our journey. I traveled with my husband, carrying a change of clothes, water bottle, basic toiletries, and food as we hiked village to village, averaging 10 miles per hiking day over hilly terrain. I'll share more of the trip, including photos, in future blog posts. For now I'll just mention that, for me, this was a poetry village, beginning with the Musee Champollion des Ecritures du Monde -- Champillion Museum of Writings of the World, Troglodytic cave dwellings, pre-historic cave art, and some of France's most charming villages.
Compare that to walking Burlington Boulevard in Burlington, WA yesterday while my car was being repaired. The town is a haphazard series of cheap commercial buildings and a testament to the hazards of no urban planning. As if the failed retail shops now occupied by sketchy businesses including massage parlors and pawn shops weren't bad enough, a walk through the mall showed empty storefront after empty storefront. And yet companies like Starbucks and Mod Pizza had put in new stores just north of there. Nonetheless, the walk through town was beyond depressing. Garbage littered properties on either side of the highway. The few remaining residences appeared abandoned and suffering from neglect. And of the other pedestrians we saw, only one seemed to be in complete control of her faculties. That is, she didn't appear to be strung out on drugs or shouting nonsensical sermons at the traffic. I have no doubt that careful civic planning preserved the beautiful and centuries-old villages in France, and a lack of civic planning destroys towns like Burlington within a decade or two. The proponents of minimal growth controls claim they must support businesses in order to have a thriving economy. Unfortunately, many of those businesses, with no oversight, will ruin the character of a place with their big box stores that elbow out the smaller, independent and locally-owned businesses, but as soon as profits dip, they'll pack up and leave their mess behind, including, all too often, hastily built structures whose design and materials were never meant for longevity. I'm a firm believer in travel as a vehicle for learning better ways to do things. We here in the U.S. have much to learn from countries like France, whose revolution was once inspired by us, and who we may turn to in coming days--not just for urban planning but for support as we move into politically uncharted territory defending the Constitution and rule of law. Today, the House of Representatives announced impeachment proceedings against Trump on two counts of "high crimes and misdemeanors." Today, in addition to the articles of impeachment drawn up by the House, the Trump administration pushed forward an attempt to define Judaism as not only a religion, but a nationality. This is similar to what Hitler did in Nazi Germany, and already some say this may be paving the way to try to deport Jews from the U.S. on the grounds that their nationality is other than American. We have a mess on our hands--In Washington, DC and in our cities and towns. In business, one looks at "best practices." Countries like France, Germany, England, Scandinavian countries, and other places in the western world have faced similar threats to democracy. We can learn from their example and we can learn from their mistakes. We can be leaders, too, as countries around the world deal with Russian interference sowing discord and undermining democracy. We have a lot to clean up--both in government and in the quality of life we choose to maintain here. It's time to make some tough choices--not only for ourselves, but future generations. It's time to ensure our cities, country, and entire planet do not get destroyed by unbridled, unmonitored, and unchallenged greed. The path is clear. It's time for us to walk the walk. It's Memorial Day weekend. A time when many people take a getaway or are perhaps making their summer travel plans. Because we own a B&B, this weekend is our kickoff to the summer season. Each year, we make small and large updates to our historic inn. This year, most of the upgrades are not visible (roof fans, attic insulation, added soundproofing, etc.). Others--like adding more trees and flowers, planting the vegetable garden, and painting the large covered porch above--are a little more visually gratifying. We do our travel in the winter, and while we're playing tourist, we're reminded of the little things that make life more comfortable when we're away from home. Like having a cozy spot to sit outside, to read and enjoy a morning coffee or evening drink, and maybe let the mind wander a little. Whether you're planning a getaway or getting ready for visitors yourself, I hope a space like this for relaxing and enjoying the company of friends is in your very near future.
AyOther than the amazing gift of a residency at Hedgebrook, much of my winter and early spring has been consumed with kicking off the small press I started with the help of an amazing Editorial Board (including Susan Kim Campbell, Julie Riddle, Tina Schumann, and Ana Maria Spagna). Inviting them to join me on this venture, and the decision to publish our first three titles, are about the only things I've done right. If there's a rookie publishing mistake to make, I've made it.
For example, under pressure to get books in time for an event, I bypassed ordering a physical copy and went off of the e-proof I received. The handful of other publishers I've mentioned this to have all given me the kind of smile that says, 'You poor, dumb thing. Everyone knows not to do that!' Sure enough, the copies arrived and what looked good onscreen did not look so hot in print. Fortunately, the author was understanding. We redesigned the cover--specifically, the spine and back cover--and re-released the book in its proper, intended form. We also switched from KDP to Ingram. Ingram is more expensive and takes longer, but their distribution is better. Also, KDP is Amazon. I didn't think it was right to ask independent book stores to carry titles published by the giant that threatens to put them out of business. Now, all our titles are printed and distributed through Ingram. Now that our first three titles are out, we've opened submissions for the Wandering Aengus Press Book Award (see below). Up to three titles will be published in Fiction, Nonfiction, and Poetry, including hybrids. No doubt, more mistakes are on the way, but what a fun ride this is. It's also teaching me a lot about writing and publishing for my own work, which has been an unexpected bonus. Anyway, if you've got a manuscript looking for a sincere, albeit somewhat green publisher, please submit it to our contest... After five applications, I was ready to give up on getting a Hedgebrook residency. Even though their application fee is less than most, it felt like I might never get in. After all, they're one of the most competitive residencies with one of the longest applications. But also one of the best.
If you're not familiar with Hedgebrook, they give women writers the gift of time and space to write in individual cabins on Whidbey Island in Washington State. Their mantra is "radical hospitality," which includes lunch baskets hand-delivered to your cottage door and evening dinners around the farmhouse table, so residents can focus on their writing and not cooking meals. Writers from around the world apply. The long application is designed to help writers answer the question, Why Hedgebrook, Why Now? That application takes time. As of this writing, it costs $30 to apply. If you get in, you receive an incredibly generous gift. If not, kiss your $30 goodbye. So why did I apply over and over with no residency to show for it? First of all, because I believe in Hedgebrook's mission in supporting a diversity of women's voices. Being the founder and administrator of an artist residency, I know the hidden costs of having an online applications, which are expensive but important if you want to have a fair adjudication process. So I looked at my application fee as a donation. If I didn't get in, it still supported Hedgebrook and the writers who did get in. That $30 and its kiss goodbye went to worthy writers and a worthy cause. Completing the application each year, became my second reason for applying. Anyone who's applied for residencies and artist grants knows that the application processes can differ significantly. I always appreciate the ones that are relatively painless and easy. You could make a full-time job of filling out applications, but anyone who can afford to spend all their time applying probably doesn't need the grants or fellowships. Hedgebrook's application is different, though. To do it justice, it takes hours. However, it walks you through thinking about and articulating your artistic vision for your current work. People pay a lot to spend a weekend being taken through that very process, so I began to see the application itself as an investment in my own writing, regardless of whether I got a residency fellowship or not. Even so, this year, my fifth time applying to Hedgebrook, I decided would be my last. I had put my heart and soul into that application. I was very candid about my current work in progress, and shared not only my vision for it, but also the questions that troubled me. Instead of using the application to hold up any past accomplishments or accolades in an effort to convince reviewers I was worthy, I talked about the issues I was grappling with, why I thought they were important on a broader scale as well as on a personal scale, and what I hoped the writing would accomplish. When the application was complete, I knew it was the most heartfelt and focused application I'd ever submitted. The vulnerability of talking candidly about the challenges of the work made me nervous. And yet, I also knew this was the best application I'd ever submitted for anything. If Hedgebrook didn't accept me this time, I figured my work must not be a good fit, so I'd focus my efforts on another residency. Then an email arrived with the word CONGRATULATIONS. I honestly couldn't tell you what else it said when I first read it. It took several more readings for the reality to set in. My application had been accepted. The residency was scheduled. WOO HOO! The residency takes place later this winter. No doubt it will be a productive and profound time. I'm beyond grateful to Hedgebrook--not just for the residency, but for not accepting my applications before. If I'd gotten in on the first (or second, or third, or fourth) try, would I have pushed myself harder? Would I have learned to speak candidly and with such clarity about my intended project? Would I even have been able to talk about my work in much depth at all without several years of focused effort practicing how to create a cogent artist statement and statement of work? Hedgebrook honed not only my application skills, but my thinking skills through their application questions. Samuel Beckett's quote, "Ever Tried. Ever Failed. No Matter. Fail Again. Fail Better," comes to mind. So, Hedgebrook, thank you for granting me a residency fellowship this year, and thank you even more for not granting me one in the past. Today is Thanksgiving, and while I have mixed feelings about the holiday, I still feel gratitude in my life for the countless daily gifts, many of which go by unnoticed and taken for granted. Like this mushroom on our dog walk yesterday. Happy Autumn. May all our lives be filled with these small gifts and gratitude.
A huge thank you to publisher Ron Mohring of Seven Kitchens Press for selecting Pendulum to kick off their 2018 Summer Kitchen Series of poetry chapbooks. Pendulum was a finalist in the Rane Arroyo Prize in Poetry, so I was thrilled when Ron contacted me to see if they could publish it. The Summer Kitchen Series produces highly collectible hand-bound, limited-edition chapbooks. Only forty-nine copies of Pendulum will be made available as of August 1, 2018. The poems reflect my hope that our politics, tempers, and even our damaged environment and extreme weather will, like the natural movement of a pendulum, swing back to center. Here's to equality, equity, and equilibrium!
Yvonne Garrett, the fiction editor at Black Lawrence Press, and editor of their newsletter, Sapling, interviewed me in May about my fledgling new press, Trail to Table. The newsletter is only available to subscribers, but Yvonne let me know that after a reasonable time, I could share the interview. Here it is in its entirety.
Sapling: What should people know who may not be familiar with Trail to Table Press? Jill McCabe Johnson: Trail to Table is a brand new press with unabashedly high-falutin aspirations. We want to make the world a better place, and our hope is that by publishing works that illuminate our connections to nature and each other, we will all be inspired to take better care of the planet and each other. Sapling: How did your name come about? JMJ: My scholarship centers on the influence of walking on writing, and I’m very aware of how immersion in nature influences us to be better writers and often better people. I’ve also written about how dining with others elicits the release of oxytocin, the hormone responsible, in part, for bonding between humans. I believe there’s something fundamental about getting out on the trail and breaking bread that allows us to connect with nature and humanity in a profound way, so I’m interested in works that relate to the activities we engage in, from trail to table. Sapling: What do you (will you?) pay close attention to when reading submissions? Any deal breakers? JMJ: We’re looking for literary works that incorporate human stories with field research or smart observations. Maybe it’s the memoir of a guerilla gardener who plants food-bearing, indigenous plants in abandoned lots. Maybe it’s the story of leaving behind a farm to move into the city and finding a network for farm-to-table enthusiasts. Might be a historical novel about studying botany with George Washington Carver. Or an essay collection of personal narratives featuring cookouts, potlucks, and dining alfresco. Or a memoir of dealing with Parkinson’s disease by taking daily walks and hikes. Or a short story collection with foraging as the common theme. I don’t know about deal breakers, but works that offer insights about or an appreciation for the socially connective power of food and nature will definitely get our attention. Anyway, as of this writing, we are open for submissions and also hope people will join our mailing list. Let’s save the world together! Trailtotable.net. Sapling: Where do you imagine Trail to Table Press to be headed over the next couple years? What’s on the horizon? JMJ: Our mission is to transform thinking about how we engage with the earth and each other as thoughtful, generous stewards in our actions and interactions, whether on the trail, as consumers and makers, or around the table through genuine connection and respect for life. And also, the wish to share lyric and narrative works that serve both to entertain and enrich others' lives through insight, compassion, and a pure and beautiful expression of experience. Easy right? To that end, for our first year, we’re on the lookout for nonfiction manuscripts. They can be memoir, essay collections, personal narrative, etc. We’re open to novels and short story collections, but will give preference to nonfiction at first. Later, we plan to add fiction and poetry. In keeping with our mission, we’re also rolling out a line of journals and cards—journals that can serve as a creative space as well as a recording place for field research, close observation, exploration, and deep reflection, and cards as a means for reaching out to others. Both are blank, to encourage people to express their own ideas and sentiments. Sapling: As an editor of a brand new press what do you envision being the hardest part of your job? The best part? JMJ: Hardest part? Turning down manuscripts and their hopeful authors. Best part? Sharing works we love. Sapling: If you were stranded on a desert island for a week with only three books which books would you want to have with you? JMJ: Ack. Only three? How would I ever decide? Let’s see… What about… Rebecca Solnit’s Field Guide to Getting Lost Marilyn Robinson’s Housekeeping Anthony Doerr’s All the Light We Cannot See Of course, then I’d be kicking myself for the books left behind, like some massive and comprehensive anthology of poetry, for example, or Claudia Rankine’s Citizen: An American Lyric or Linda Bierds’ The Ghost Trio. Sapling: Just for fun (because we like fun and the number three) if Trail to Table Press was a person what three things would it be thinking about obsessively? JMJ: 1) Hiking historic trails like the Grande Randonnée or the Inca Trail or Abel Tasman Coast Track. 2) How different kinds of trees keep each other alive by sharing nutrients via mycelium threads in the soil, or some other cool aspect of how ecosystems work in perfect harmony. 3) What’s for dinner? Note: This interview was originally published in Black Lawrence Press' Sapling Issue #443 on May 21, 2018. So I've decided to start a press. I've been thinking about it for a while--years, in fact--but hesitated because of the time it would take, because I don't really know what I'm doing, because, because, because. But then I realized I was letting my fear of failure stop me, and, anyway, I haven't ever known what I'm doing. I started a writing business, stumbled into IT consulting, bought a B&B with my husband, and founded a non-profit, all without having a clue. They all thrived in their own small ways, so why not a press, too? I should clarify, though, that starting a press is not the goal. The goal is to publish works that offer a certain ethos and experience to readers. Specifically, I envision publishing works that have the ability to transform our thinking about how we engage with the earth and each other as thoughtful, generous stewards in our actions and interactions, whether on the trail, as consumers and makers, or around the table through genuine connection and respect for life. And also, the wish to share lyric and narrative works that serve both to entertain and enrich others' lives through insight, compassion, and a pure and beautiful expression of experience. The first books will be nonfiction, and could include essay collections, personal narrative, memoir, or hybrid works. I prefer lyric or literary works that have one foot (or at least a toe) planted solidly in the sciences, ideally using nature and the scientific curiosity as a springboard for awe and possibility. If you do have a completed manuscript (or close to completion) along these lines and are willing to take a chance with a shiny new press, send me your first ten pages along with a query letter in the body of an email. You can see the full submission guidelines here: http://trailtotable.net/submissions.html
Let's trek into this adventure together! |
AuthorJill McCabe Johnson's research and writing practice follow the tradition of the French Medieval poetic form, the "chanson d'aventure" or song of adventure, where a writer walks into a new environment for enlightenment and inspiration. Archives
April 2020
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