Jennifer Perrine's Blog - Posts Tagged "rattle"
Swingin' on the Front Porch, Swingin' on the Lawn
This is my last week in Johnson, Vermont, where the kind folks at the Vermont Studio Center have given me space to write and to be among other artists for the month of February. There's been much furious scribbling, broadening of horizons, and exchanging of ideas. (Also, a wee bit of carousing, a lot of laughter, heaps of good food, and a mid-winter bonfire. This place is luscious.)
The residency has given me encouragement to be braver and less polished with my poems, including the Inauguries, which have definitely begun to absorb the influence of this place and the people I've met here. Being away from home has also offered some necessary distance from stories and poems that I should have abandoned long ago. Darlings have been murdered! Drafts have been trashed! Let the new language come flooding in!
While I've been here, Unsplendid put out a new double issue, which includes a villanelle and a sonnet I wrote. Editor Doug Basford's preface is worth checking out for its thoughtful articulation of some of the relationships between politics and poetry.
Also, speaking of politics and poetry, the new issue of Rattle is out, and it features poems by civil servants--folks who've worked for the CIA, FDA, EPA, the Census Bureau--which just goes to show we poets are everywhere. I've got a poem in there, too, in the poets-not-affiliated-with-the-government section. I'll have to wait until I'm home to read the rest of the issue, but I can tell you my poem was inspired by a dream in which Death tried to serve me a pie. No lie.
The residency has given me encouragement to be braver and less polished with my poems, including the Inauguries, which have definitely begun to absorb the influence of this place and the people I've met here. Being away from home has also offered some necessary distance from stories and poems that I should have abandoned long ago. Darlings have been murdered! Drafts have been trashed! Let the new language come flooding in!
While I've been here, Unsplendid put out a new double issue, which includes a villanelle and a sonnet I wrote. Editor Doug Basford's preface is worth checking out for its thoughtful articulation of some of the relationships between politics and poetry.
Also, speaking of politics and poetry, the new issue of Rattle is out, and it features poems by civil servants--folks who've worked for the CIA, FDA, EPA, the Census Bureau--which just goes to show we poets are everywhere. I've got a poem in there, too, in the poets-not-affiliated-with-the-government section. I'll have to wait until I'm home to read the rest of the issue, but I can tell you my poem was inspired by a dream in which Death tried to serve me a pie. No lie.
Tomorrow's Chances Feel Like a Singing God
Last Sunday, I went for a hike, as I do most weekends, and when I came back from my trek in the mountains, a message was waiting on my phone. Jenine Gordon Bockman, editor of
Literal Latte
, had called to let me know that my short story, "Out of Order," had won the magazine's fiction prize! I did a little dance right there at the trailhead, although the dance didn't last too long, as I was pretty wobbly-legged by then.
This was (is!) big news for me. I've been writing fiction for a while, but I've only been sending it out to magazines for the last year or so. In that year, a few editors have written back some kind notes, but all of them passed on publishing my stories. I was beginning to think I ought to throw in the towel, especially with stories like "Out of Order." It's science fiction and nearly 8,000 words long, both of which put it outside the scope of most literary journals. So, it was a surprise, a delight, and a confidence-boost to hear not only that Literal Latte was interested in publishing "Out of Order" but also that they'd chosen it for their fiction award. The story is due to come out in their Fall issue, when I'm sure I will babble about it on the blog all over again.
In other news... Rattle posted my poem, "I Tell Death, Eventually", as their poem of the day back on June 23. Although I've been reading Rattle for years, it wasn't until this last month that I realized what a supportive and extensive poetry community editor Tim Green has built, especially through the digital components of the journal. In the days following my poem's posting, I received more kind emails from readers than I had in the previous ten years. People were generous with their own stories about loss and grief and mortality, and I appreciated their candor and vulnerability. Beyond that, it was also heartening just to know that so many people were out there reading poetry on any given day. At a time when literary and arts programs are so often disparaged and subject to budget cuts, knowing there are so many other poetry-lovers out there gives me hope.
And speaking of budget cuts, I wanted to give a shout out to the editors at Crab Orchard Review , which is in the process of converting from a print to an online-only journal in the wake of spending restrictions and staffing reductions. Allison Joseph, Jon Tribble, and Carolyn Alessio have been putting together one of the best journals out there for years, and I'm honored to have my poem, "The Gauntlet," included in one of the final print issues. "The Gauntlet" is one of the few poems I've written where I directly address race--in particular, the unease I felt at being one of the few people of color in my old neighborhood in Iowa--and I'm grateful to the folks at Crab Orchard Review for publishing it. (I'm also grateful that now, for the first time in my life, I live in a racially and culturally diverse neighborhood. I still think a lot about race, and it would be foolish in the current political environment to say I feel unworried and entirely safe, but I don't feel the same kind of fear I did in places where I was the only person of color around. There's power--and peace--in numbers.)
This was (is!) big news for me. I've been writing fiction for a while, but I've only been sending it out to magazines for the last year or so. In that year, a few editors have written back some kind notes, but all of them passed on publishing my stories. I was beginning to think I ought to throw in the towel, especially with stories like "Out of Order." It's science fiction and nearly 8,000 words long, both of which put it outside the scope of most literary journals. So, it was a surprise, a delight, and a confidence-boost to hear not only that Literal Latte was interested in publishing "Out of Order" but also that they'd chosen it for their fiction award. The story is due to come out in their Fall issue, when I'm sure I will babble about it on the blog all over again.
In other news... Rattle posted my poem, "I Tell Death, Eventually", as their poem of the day back on June 23. Although I've been reading Rattle for years, it wasn't until this last month that I realized what a supportive and extensive poetry community editor Tim Green has built, especially through the digital components of the journal. In the days following my poem's posting, I received more kind emails from readers than I had in the previous ten years. People were generous with their own stories about loss and grief and mortality, and I appreciated their candor and vulnerability. Beyond that, it was also heartening just to know that so many people were out there reading poetry on any given day. At a time when literary and arts programs are so often disparaged and subject to budget cuts, knowing there are so many other poetry-lovers out there gives me hope.
And speaking of budget cuts, I wanted to give a shout out to the editors at Crab Orchard Review , which is in the process of converting from a print to an online-only journal in the wake of spending restrictions and staffing reductions. Allison Joseph, Jon Tribble, and Carolyn Alessio have been putting together one of the best journals out there for years, and I'm honored to have my poem, "The Gauntlet," included in one of the final print issues. "The Gauntlet" is one of the few poems I've written where I directly address race--in particular, the unease I felt at being one of the few people of color in my old neighborhood in Iowa--and I'm grateful to the folks at Crab Orchard Review for publishing it. (I'm also grateful that now, for the first time in my life, I live in a racially and culturally diverse neighborhood. I still think a lot about race, and it would be foolish in the current political environment to say I feel unworried and entirely safe, but I don't feel the same kind of fear I did in places where I was the only person of color around. There's power--and peace--in numbers.)
