Paula Coomer's Blog, page 3
September 28, 2013
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September 12, 2013
Beautiful Review of NURSES WHO LOVE ENGLISH
If you haven't yet discovered poet Lisa Panepinto, you should look for her. She is a voice of our times, and one who dives right to the center of relevance and meaning: http://gumshoegrove.com/2010/02/12/is...
That said, I have to thank her for the gorgeous review she wrote for NURSES WHO LOVE ENGLISH. She made me cry:
http://cabildoquarterly.tumblr.com/po...
That said, I have to thank her for the gorgeous review she wrote for NURSES WHO LOVE ENGLISH. She made me cry:
http://cabildoquarterly.tumblr.com/po...
July 8, 2013
BLUE MOON VEGETARIAN--Nov. 20, 2013 release
Blue Moon Vegetarian is an "accidental" book I wrote, a sort of diary of 2010, the year my then-fiance and I were transitioning from a meat-based diet to vegetarianism. Also during that year, we were trying to renovate a 106-year-old Victorian house, plan for a mid-life wedding, and, because we just weren't crazy enough, we adopted a shelter dog. A howling, frantic-when-left-alone-I-can-break-any-kind-of-fence sort of shelter dog.
What we discovered, and what kept us going during that time, was that while we were each very good at creating recipes, together we create dynamitecrazymakeyoureyeballsrollbackinyourhead good recipes. And that while food itself may be medicine, cooking is therapy, and cooking together is couples therapy.
It was not my first go-around with a vegetarian diet. I had spent about six years during the 90s eating baked tofu sandwiches and salads with texturized vegetable protein and more than my share of cheese enchiladas. Additionaly, I hold a bachelor's degree in nursing, have studied nutrition, and, prior to having become a writer, worked in public health nursing for many years, a field very focused on helping people understand that balancing a good, whole-foods diet with exercise and a healthy lifestyle is the key maintaining wellness. This is apart from thirty years of self-study in nutrition, organic foods, and plant-based healing. I felt imminently qualified to lead us on this journey, which turned out to be, as journeys always are, one of self-discovery and one that led us to the beautiful but ouchthathurts truth of just what it means to let yourself fall victim to love at middle-age.
Part memoir, part nutrition guide, and part recipe book, Blue Moon Vegetarian echoes what a few others have started to realize: that something is dreadfully wrong with our food system, and our medical system, and while one is making us sick, the more suspicious among us are also starting to wonder whether the other one isn't working overtime to keep us that way
http://www.paulamariecoomer.com
What we discovered, and what kept us going during that time, was that while we were each very good at creating recipes, together we create dynamitecrazymakeyoureyeballsrollbackinyourhead good recipes. And that while food itself may be medicine, cooking is therapy, and cooking together is couples therapy.
It was not my first go-around with a vegetarian diet. I had spent about six years during the 90s eating baked tofu sandwiches and salads with texturized vegetable protein and more than my share of cheese enchiladas. Additionaly, I hold a bachelor's degree in nursing, have studied nutrition, and, prior to having become a writer, worked in public health nursing for many years, a field very focused on helping people understand that balancing a good, whole-foods diet with exercise and a healthy lifestyle is the key maintaining wellness. This is apart from thirty years of self-study in nutrition, organic foods, and plant-based healing. I felt imminently qualified to lead us on this journey, which turned out to be, as journeys always are, one of self-discovery and one that led us to the beautiful but ouchthathurts truth of just what it means to let yourself fall victim to love at middle-age.
Part memoir, part nutrition guide, and part recipe book, Blue Moon Vegetarian echoes what a few others have started to realize: that something is dreadfully wrong with our food system, and our medical system, and while one is making us sick, the more suspicious among us are also starting to wonder whether the other one isn't working overtime to keep us that way
http://www.paulamariecoomer.com
June 17, 2013
DOVE CREEK REBROADCAST
Radio station KRFP (92.5) in Moscow, Idaho, is rebroadcasting the serialized version of my novel DOVE CREEK beginning June 12 at 7 p.m. Scheduled to run for 12 weeks, the radio version of DOVE CREEK is somewhat different from the published version. Listen online at www.radiofreemoscow.org or download episodes at http://audio.krfp.org/dovecreek.html.
It's free!
It's free!
February 22, 2013
NURSES WHO LOVE ENGLISH RELEASED
Feb. 22, 2012:
My second collection of poems, NURSES WHO LOVE ENGLISH, has just been released from Stephen F. Austin State University Press. The cover and design work are just gorgeous. Many thanks to the great people at the press for caring enough about my work to bring it to the public. Launch party is Mar. 29 at 7 p.m. at The Blue Lantern in Lewiston, Idaho.
My second collection of poems, NURSES WHO LOVE ENGLISH, has just been released from Stephen F. Austin State University Press. The cover and design work are just gorgeous. Many thanks to the great people at the press for caring enough about my work to bring it to the public. Launch party is Mar. 29 at 7 p.m. at The Blue Lantern in Lewiston, Idaho.
February 23, 2012
Nurses Who Love English
I am quite excited to announce the publication of my second collection of poetry, due out this fall from Stephen F. Austin University Press. Information about advanced sales will be available later in the year. In the meantime, from the distributor catalog:
In NURSES WHO LOVE ENGLISH, Paula Marie Coomer chronicles the effects of the eight years of the George W. Bush administration on the poet's life, from the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks to the emergence of war and a life wobbling under the impact of world events: the loss of livelihood caused by federal budget cuts, a year of unemployment, record gasoline prices and mega-inflation, and a return to hospital nursing after having been a contracted university instructor, with its accompanying strain on a 50-year-old body. In the shadows, events that should have been celebrations become emotional struggles to be surmounted: the empty nest, children marrying and becoming parents themselves, finding late-life love.
The collection ends with poems written as a new president is taking office, and clearly the persona in these hopes for an era of possibility. Lyrical, emotional, and, in the words of award-winning poet Paisley Rekdal, "at once carefully wrought and yet full of spontaneity . . . both tough-minded yet fragile," the poems in this collection are powerful, graceful, and reveal the conflicting perspectives of a poet of Midwest upbringing who hails from a Kentucky mountain heritage, independent-minded yet vulnerable, a woman struggling to survive a difficult time in history alone in the rural Intermountain West.
And from the back cover:
In poems at once carefully wrought and yet full of spontaneity, that collage the language of Rilke together with the language of the hospital ward, the movie theater, and the homes and hearts of those down on their luck, Paula Coomer's newest collection of poems examines the many ways in which we make art out of our lives, both consciously and not. The speakers of these poems are both tough-minded yet fragile, alive to the beauty and power of language and its ability to transform pain into moments of true personal grace. To live, as these poems show us, is itself an art. "You asked yourself the question--have I Iived?" Paula Coomer asks in NURSES WHO LOVE ENGLISH. The answer is, unquestionably, she has.
--Paisley Rekdal, author of THE NIGHT MY MOTHER MET BRUCE LEE and INVENTION OF THE KALEIDOSCOPE
In this powerfully playful collection of poetry, Coomer inventively twists terms and syntax to help us see the world anew. She speaks with the toughness of someone who has survived a hard life yet her energy and sense of humor upend expectations. A tree is “grouchy and vacant from the winter befallen it.” A bee is “bouffant.” A “key / walks in your pocket / away from the lock.” Her poem “On Leaving Home” sagely concludes, “Smart girls don’t drill holes in the water bucket.” Courageous and resilient, Coomer meets her poems head on, and her love of English is everywhere apparent.
—Kelly Cherry, author of The Retreats of Thought: Poems
In NURSES WHO LOVE ENGLISH, Paula Marie Coomer chronicles the effects of the eight years of the George W. Bush administration on the poet's life, from the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks to the emergence of war and a life wobbling under the impact of world events: the loss of livelihood caused by federal budget cuts, a year of unemployment, record gasoline prices and mega-inflation, and a return to hospital nursing after having been a contracted university instructor, with its accompanying strain on a 50-year-old body. In the shadows, events that should have been celebrations become emotional struggles to be surmounted: the empty nest, children marrying and becoming parents themselves, finding late-life love.
The collection ends with poems written as a new president is taking office, and clearly the persona in these hopes for an era of possibility. Lyrical, emotional, and, in the words of award-winning poet Paisley Rekdal, "at once carefully wrought and yet full of spontaneity . . . both tough-minded yet fragile," the poems in this collection are powerful, graceful, and reveal the conflicting perspectives of a poet of Midwest upbringing who hails from a Kentucky mountain heritage, independent-minded yet vulnerable, a woman struggling to survive a difficult time in history alone in the rural Intermountain West.
And from the back cover:
In poems at once carefully wrought and yet full of spontaneity, that collage the language of Rilke together with the language of the hospital ward, the movie theater, and the homes and hearts of those down on their luck, Paula Coomer's newest collection of poems examines the many ways in which we make art out of our lives, both consciously and not. The speakers of these poems are both tough-minded yet fragile, alive to the beauty and power of language and its ability to transform pain into moments of true personal grace. To live, as these poems show us, is itself an art. "You asked yourself the question--have I Iived?" Paula Coomer asks in NURSES WHO LOVE ENGLISH. The answer is, unquestionably, she has.
--Paisley Rekdal, author of THE NIGHT MY MOTHER MET BRUCE LEE and INVENTION OF THE KALEIDOSCOPE
In this powerfully playful collection of poetry, Coomer inventively twists terms and syntax to help us see the world anew. She speaks with the toughness of someone who has survived a hard life yet her energy and sense of humor upend expectations. A tree is “grouchy and vacant from the winter befallen it.” A bee is “bouffant.” A “key / walks in your pocket / away from the lock.” Her poem “On Leaving Home” sagely concludes, “Smart girls don’t drill holes in the water bucket.” Courageous and resilient, Coomer meets her poems head on, and her love of English is everywhere apparent.
—Kelly Cherry, author of The Retreats of Thought: Poems
January 9, 2012
Full Moon Over Us
I can never sleep
when the moon is full,
the way it pulls
at the liquid part
of me. I fool myself
into thinking carbs
and milk will do
the job, but here
I am, hours later
and mere hours before
I'll have to rise for
a quick walk around
the block, my cup
of green tea,
and the day's race
to do all I imagine
must be done. Mourning
those lost hours
of sleep, jealous
of my bed still
there in my bedroom,
lazing.
I think it should
have to get up
and walk with me,
ride the long miles
to work, scratch
it's head the way
I will a thousand
times today, to jiggle
loose the parts still
inclined to doze.
when the moon is full,
the way it pulls
at the liquid part
of me. I fool myself
into thinking carbs
and milk will do
the job, but here
I am, hours later
and mere hours before
I'll have to rise for
a quick walk around
the block, my cup
of green tea,
and the day's race
to do all I imagine
must be done. Mourning
those lost hours
of sleep, jealous
of my bed still
there in my bedroom,
lazing.
I think it should
have to get up
and walk with me,
ride the long miles
to work, scratch
it's head the way
I will a thousand
times today, to jiggle
loose the parts still
inclined to doze.
October 26, 2011
First Frost
It's been a while since I logged into Good Reads. I've been busy with real-world book promotion, finishing a new novel, and an otherwise active life, which leaves little time for the virtual.
But I feel I must stop in once again to thank those folks who've taken the time to read Dove Creek and to comment on it. One thing about having a book published, the adult in you very quickly has to take over, lest the inner child who is so happy to see herself between covers ruin your life with her dismay over readers who don't see your story the way you wanted them to.
Mostly I want to prevent alarm on the behalf of any of my stray family members who happen upon random Internet reviews. For some reason, some people are mistaking Patricia Faye Morrison's story for my own. Obviously I anticipated this happening, anyone who writes a fictional memoir does, which is why I wrote my parents a 3-page letter to accompany their copy of the book, explaining which things happened to my protagonist that did not happen to me.
One day I will write my true memoir. I have a proposal into an agent now. It is all about growing up in Indiana, smart but poor and cast as a religious zealot, while seeing the world from an angle no one else could understand. This last part is not unusual. It is what makes some of us into poets, artists, and fiction writers.
It will take until then, I suppose, for readers to understand the eons of difference between Patricia Faye and me and that Patricia belongs to an imagined world based on that of my grandparents, not mine. Some of her adventures are a re-imagining of things I witnessed over decades of living and travelling and some are purely imagined.
It's funny. Writers come under fire for fictionalizing their non-fiction, and, as I am finding, writing fiction derived from real events. These are questions I never stop to ask when I read a book. I am naive, I suppose, accepting what the author gives me at face value.
Nonetheless, to my unwitting relatives who happen across some of these untrusting reviewers, if you have any questions, please call my mother. She has my phone number.
But I feel I must stop in once again to thank those folks who've taken the time to read Dove Creek and to comment on it. One thing about having a book published, the adult in you very quickly has to take over, lest the inner child who is so happy to see herself between covers ruin your life with her dismay over readers who don't see your story the way you wanted them to.
Mostly I want to prevent alarm on the behalf of any of my stray family members who happen upon random Internet reviews. For some reason, some people are mistaking Patricia Faye Morrison's story for my own. Obviously I anticipated this happening, anyone who writes a fictional memoir does, which is why I wrote my parents a 3-page letter to accompany their copy of the book, explaining which things happened to my protagonist that did not happen to me.
One day I will write my true memoir. I have a proposal into an agent now. It is all about growing up in Indiana, smart but poor and cast as a religious zealot, while seeing the world from an angle no one else could understand. This last part is not unusual. It is what makes some of us into poets, artists, and fiction writers.
It will take until then, I suppose, for readers to understand the eons of difference between Patricia Faye and me and that Patricia belongs to an imagined world based on that of my grandparents, not mine. Some of her adventures are a re-imagining of things I witnessed over decades of living and travelling and some are purely imagined.
It's funny. Writers come under fire for fictionalizing their non-fiction, and, as I am finding, writing fiction derived from real events. These are questions I never stop to ask when I read a book. I am naive, I suppose, accepting what the author gives me at face value.
Nonetheless, to my unwitting relatives who happen across some of these untrusting reviewers, if you have any questions, please call my mother. She has my phone number.
August 8, 2011
Pacific Northwest Bookseller's Association Trade Show 2011
The writing life is like whitewater rafting--moments of convulsive action interspersed between eons of placid drifting. Just when you think nothing is ever going to happen again, here comes the biggest swells yet.
And so it is that just as I was starting to think my novel Dove Creek had burned out its moment of notice, here comes word that the book--and I--have been invited to be present at the Pacific Northwest Bookseller's Association annual tradeshow in October. We'll get to meet over 500 indie booksellers and libriarians. It'll be a glowing moment for Dove Creek and a relief to have copies of it in the hands of so many interested readers, folks who know their way well around literary fiction.
It's an honor indeed for any Pacific Northwest writer, but is a special honor for this small, quiet book which has been shouldering its way into existence for such a long time now. For more about the history and writing of Dove Creek, check out my website at www.paulamariecoomer.com
And so it is that just as I was starting to think my novel Dove Creek had burned out its moment of notice, here comes word that the book--and I--have been invited to be present at the Pacific Northwest Bookseller's Association annual tradeshow in October. We'll get to meet over 500 indie booksellers and libriarians. It'll be a glowing moment for Dove Creek and a relief to have copies of it in the hands of so many interested readers, folks who know their way well around literary fiction.
It's an honor indeed for any Pacific Northwest writer, but is a special honor for this small, quiet book which has been shouldering its way into existence for such a long time now. For more about the history and writing of Dove Creek, check out my website at www.paulamariecoomer.com
July 18, 2011
Travel
There's nothing like being on the road to inspire a person to write. One of my favorite writing activities on a road trip is to snare 3-5 "found" items from a section of road--say a distance of 5 miles--and to challenge someone else in the car to make up a story featuring those items.
For example, yesterday, travelling from the east side of Washington state to Seattle, those items might include a brown bridge, a trio of white pelicans, and a child's three-wheeler oddly abandoned by the roadside.
The story must be relatively short--say, no more than 10 minutes in the telling--and must reveal something about human nature. In other words, they must create a small mirror in which to see ourselves.
Are you up to the challenge? Anyone who wishes is welcome to post their story here. Not sure long a Good Reads message can be, but limit it only to the amount of space allowed.
Ready? Set! Go!
For example, yesterday, travelling from the east side of Washington state to Seattle, those items might include a brown bridge, a trio of white pelicans, and a child's three-wheeler oddly abandoned by the roadside.
The story must be relatively short--say, no more than 10 minutes in the telling--and must reveal something about human nature. In other words, they must create a small mirror in which to see ourselves.
Are you up to the challenge? Anyone who wishes is welcome to post their story here. Not sure long a Good Reads message can be, but limit it only to the amount of space allowed.
Ready? Set! Go!
