E. Kristin Anderson's Blog, page 13

International Women’s Week: Guest Post from Heather Burch: The Stuff We’re Made Of

Did you ever sit back and wonder about your grit? I have. I’m talking about that thing that lives inside each of us and gives us the strength, the power, the very will to do something incredible, something beyond human ability.

Don’t think you have it?

Blink, April 2015.

Sure you do. I remember once when I was in a conversation about a survivalist party and the things they had to do to survive. Well, having never been in that situation, I responded, I guess I’d do the same things. There was horror on everyone’s faces. Fact is, I’ve never walked a mile in those shoes. How can we know the depths of what we are or aren’t capable of if we’ve not been put to the test? But it isn’t only the insurmountable odds that make us great.

Through books we get to rummage through someone else’s life. This is one of the reasons I like to read. I choose a book and suddenly—if the author has done her job—I’m transported, I’m living out someone’s fantasy or journey or nightmare.

I love the saying, There are two important days in your life. The day you were born and the day you realize why you were born. Sometimes the power of the human spirit astounds me. The struggles one can rise above that another would collapse under. There’s a story about a woman named Esther. She was a slave, but the fate of a nation was placed in her hands. She had to rise above her fear of being put to death and approach the king on behalf of her people, a people with no other voice. Esther did. She became the queen and the man who sought to destroy her and her people was put to death in their place. She saw her task to completion. Those things we are called to do may not be easy, in fact, they may be quite difficult. But I firmly believe that if a person is called to it, they are equipped for it. No matter how desperate the odds look. Why? Because ladies, we’ve got grit.

In my years of working with teenagers, I’ve gotten to know some incredible young women. Young women who were taking on the responsibility of raising younger siblings while juggling high school and after school jobs, cooking dinners and helping with homework. They inspired me. They caused me to wonder if I myself had the kind of grit they displayed on a daily basis. That’s one reason I write, to give a little glory and story to some of my unsung heroes.

In my new book SUMMER BY SUMMER, Summer Mathers has suffered a horrible loss compounded by an inability to lean on others for help. She has to take the reins after a tragedy. She steps up. She’s got grit. But it takes a toll and when she finds herself in a new situation—a life threatening one, she must learn that sometimes life creates some degree of dependency on other human beings.

We are interconnected that way. In essence, I need you. You need me. Humanity joins us in an ever changing interlocking puzzle. Sometimes we are a solid, strong, sure corner piece. Sometime’s we’re floating around the center seemingly all alone. But don’t worry, my sister. You’ve got grit. It will carry you beyond where your fear can stifle you. It will carry you to the place your apprehension can’t touch you. How do I know?

Because this is the stuff we’re made of.

Women by design are incredibly strong. We were created to multi-task the world and that’s no small feat. But so much of what we do comes naturally to us that we don’t even realize all we’re accomplishing until we begin to get tired.

Are you tired? We’ve all been there. Many of us live there because at the end of the day, when there’s still work to be done, who’s doing it? Well, we are. And all too often that feels like a thankless job.

Blink, January 2012.

On behalf of the world, I’m saying thank you. For all the tiny little things you do that go seemingly unnoticed. Thank you for organized office spaces and groceries and repaired work relationships. Thank you for helping with science projects and feeding the hungry and cheering at ball games. Thank you for quiet nights and soft sheets and warm sweaters. Thank you for gassing up the car and filing the receipts. Thank you for being you and being proud of who you are and what you’ve made of yourself. Could anyone else take your place? No. You are an original. A masterpiece. And you have the grit to accomplish not only your goals, but your dreams too. Ladies, we are an amazing people group. We are soft and hard and deep and fun. There is no replacement for us. In fact, nothing on this planet comes close. So, today, rejoice in who you are. Glory in all you’ve accomplished. And most of all, enjoy the world around you. After all, you’ve got more grit than you know.

Can you recall a situation where your grit carried you? Leave a message about it below. I’d love to hear your stories.

Heather Burch.

Heather Burch, the author of the popular Halflings series, spent the last seven years in Southern Florida but recently returned to her hometown in the Ozark Mountains. Her books have garnered praise from USA Today, Romantic Times, and Booklist magazine. When not working on her latest novel, she can be found hiking in the hills or planning a trip to the beach with her husband, John, who is her hero in every way.

International Women’s Week: Guest Post from Isabel Quintero: Choosing Without Fear

“Critical consciousness, they say, is anarchic. Others add that critical consciousness may lead to disorder. Some, however, confess: Why deny it? I was afraid of freedom. I am no longer afraid!” -Paulo Freire

Cinco Puntos Press, October 2014.

Many women, young and old, cis and not, straight or not, have at one point or another found themselves in a battle between being labeled good and bad. Or maybe I am being presumptuous; maybe there are women out there who have had the ovaries for ever and ever to ignore those labels and just exist. Though, such was not the case with me.

In GABI, A GIRL IN PIECES, being “good” or being “bad” is constantly on Gabi’s mind. Goodness has been defined by her mother, and other adults in her world, as: staying a virgin (until getting married), having faith in a Christian God, never questioning adults, staying at home (until getting married), being thin, getting good grades, and getting married. But these expectations are only imposed on girls and not on boys. Which is a big problem.

The thing with Gabi is that she doesn’t want to stay a virgin, she questions her faith and adults, she questions (gasp!) her culture, she wants to go away for college, she’s fat, she gets decent (but not perfect) grades, and marriage is the farthest thing from mind. Her wants and needs are contradictory to the expectations that have been set for her and this makes her question her goodness, and in some aspects, her worth. Her journey towards self-discovery is marked by her rejection of many of the expectations that are placed on her. This doesn’t mean that she is a completely self-aware human being, she is only 17 after all, but it does mean that she begins to question who she wants to be, as opposed to simply accepting who her mother, and other adults in her life, tell her she is or should be.

So then what happens to girls who go against the expectations? Are they bad?

The obvious answer is, no. However, there are ramifications that come with choosing what kind of woman you’d like to be. Because really, that is all being good or bad boils down to: choice. Choice in what we do with our bodies. Choice in what kind of education we seek. Choice in what careers we have. Choice in our marriage or relationship status. There is a fear in giving women the ability to choose and dictate what kind of lives they will have for themselves. Part of the fear, I believe, may be that if women have complete control over their choices, then what does that mean to the hegemonic patriarchy which has defined womanhood and femininity for so long? That type of power shift is definitely something to be feared. What would that mean to capitalist endeavors whose revenue subsists on fabricating the image of “real” or “normal” women? What would that mean to politics? And this fear is not only felt by those who set up the standards or the accepted choices, but also by women doing the choosing because we’ve been raised to adhere to those definitions and one false choice (staying single, not having children, having an abortion, leaving home before you’re married, staying fat, being too thin/too loud/too masculine/feminine) and you’re a slut/whore/bad girl/unfit mother/bad wife/bitch/emasculator; anything but a “real” woman.

As a woman of color, a Mexican American/Latina/Chicana (I couldn’t decide on the label I wanted for this, so I just threw them all on), we have the added pressure of navigating through stereotypes and cultural expectations that don’t jive well with our bicultural experience. For example, I was not allowed to leave home after high school and go away to college because my mom assumed that I would have sex. Take a moment to process that. The fear of her daughter losing her virginity was a much stronger pull for my mother, than the possibility of me gaining independence and experiences that only living on a university campus could afford. I could have left home, of course. But being raised in an environment where to do that would have put in to question my goodness and would have made me a bad girl, I didn’t see leaving as an option. So, I stayed home and was labeled bad anyway for having sex before marriage.

With GABI I really wanted to talk about all those fears I had as a teenager, and all the questions I had about what it meant to be a woman (spoiler alert: there is no one way). I wanted young women to know that they were not alone in their questioning of the status quo, of the people who say “boys will be boys,” and that they were not alone in their feelings about their bodies and whom they should belong to (ourselves, of course). In addition to that, for Latina/Mexican American/Chicana young women, I wanted to present a different narrative in which this experience, our experience (or one of them at least) was front and center, and not marginalized or relegated to stereotypes or tropes.

Now, I think I am less afraid of being bad, and more afraid of being constrained or untrue to myself, and about playing a part for the rest of my days because I was too afraid to say what I really felt or really thought, or to make choices that made me happy versus choices that were expected and accepted. Freedom is scary, but oppression, especially self-imposed, is a lot more frightening.

Isabel Quintero.

Isabel Quintero is a writer and adjunct faculty instructor who resides in Southern California’s Inland Empire with her husband. She is the daughter of Mexican immigrants who made that journey for a better life many, many years ago. She got her love of words from her mother and her love of chorizo asado from her father. She has one brother with whom she likes to exchange cute and funny animal pictures. In addition to writing fiction, Isabel also writes poetry, and is on the board for a non-profit literary arts organization, PoetrIE. GABI, A GIRL IN PIECES from Cinco Puntos Press, is the winner of the 2015 William C. Morris Award for Debut YA Novel, and the 2015 Tomas Rivera Mexican American Children’s Book Award. It is her first novel. She is very excited about that. Tweet Isabel at @isabelinpieces

International Women’s Week: Guest Post from Sally Hepworth: What Exactly Is a Feminist?

Until I was about eighteen old, I thought feminism was a dirty word. I liked wearing make-up and high-heels, and I wanted to have babies–lots of them. No, I definitely wasn’t a feminist.

St. Martin’s Press, February 2015.

Feminists, I thought, had hairy armpits and crazy hair. They were perennially single and had high-profile careers and no children, and they spoke of men (and to men) with an angry snarl.

Back then, if someone had asked me my thoughts on feminism, I’d quickly insist: “Oh no, I’m rather traditional, actually. I LOVE men.”

Looking back on that now, I cringe.

I’m not sure at what point I found out that feminism had nothing to do with men, make up or shoes. That you are a feminist if:

you believe women have the right to choose what to do with their lives and their bodies; and,
you believe women are of equal worth to their male counterparts.

(Note: it doesn’t say anywhere that you have to be a woman to be a feminist. My husband and son are both proud feminists.)

When I started writing women’s fiction, one of my challenges was how I could create strong female characters. Even now, enlightened to the true meaning of feminism, it takes some effort to think beyond the strong woman who is emotionless, guarded, a little broken. Highly successful and driven. Lara Croft and Katniss Everdeen types.

These strong female characters are very much, well, like men. And there is no problem with that, per se, as long as other types of women are represented as being strong. Women with families. Women in traditional jobs. Women in new industries.

In THE SECRETS OF MIDWIVES, I intentionally drew three very different women, from three different generations. Though their career choice (midwifery) is a traditional occupation, they bring strength in their dedication to their profession, and strength in their dedication to each other. Though they are not physically strong, they have all the strength of Lara Croft and Katniss Everdeen.

The thing about feminism is that it is a vast and often contradictory concept. The strong woman, determined to make her mark in a traditional male role, may show disdain for the woman who wishes to make a career as a beauty queen, but if the beauty queen is freely choosing to do what she does, then she is as much a feminist as the most hard nosed competitor in a traditionally male domain.

When I was in high school, we had our house painted, inside and out, by a company called ‘Women at Work.’ It seemed the very essence of feminism, in all its complexity, when I heard my mother, leaving for her job as a teacher one morning, discussing perfume with the young woman who was painting the front door.

There are many different kinds of strong women. Some have wild hair. Some wear heels. Some have hairy armpits, some have spray tans. Some are childless. Some are mothers.

All deserve the right to choose what they want for their life. All are equal to their male counterparts.

All are strong, if they choose to be.

My wish for my children and grandchildren, is that they will truly understand the meaning of feminism. That they—men and women—will stand together, proudly, and declare themselves feminists. And that feminism never again be thought of as a dirty word.

Sally Hepworth. (Photo by Mrs. Smart Photography.)

Sally Hepworth is a former Event Planner and HR professional. A graduate of Monash University, Melbourne, Australia, Sally started writing novels after the birth of her first child. She is the author of LOVE LIKE THE FRENCH, published by Random House Germany in February 2014. Sally has lived around the world, spending extended periods in Singapore, the U.K., and Canada, and she now writes full-time from her home in Melbourne, where she lives with her husband and two young children.

International Women’s Week: Guest Post from Terry Shames: The Uneven Playing Field

This morning I woke to find a newspaper headline, that warned Silicon Valley still has a “…shocking gender gap in job, pay.” I know I should be shocked, but I’m not. Here’s why:

Seventh Street Books, February 2015.

My mother said that when I was born, the nurse who brought me to her said, “This one has a mind of her own.” Maybe that’s one reason why even though I was brought up in a small Texas town, I think I was born a feminist. I loved the Nancy Drew mystery series not only for the mysteries, but also because Nancy was as brave and daring as I wanted to be. I remember reading adventure books and wondering, “Why is it always the boys who get to have the fun?” I was determined that, like Nancy, I would be intrepid and have some fun too.

It was also boys who got the interesting jobs. When I was in high school, everyone was given an “aptitude and interests” tests to determine what kind of career you might want to pursue. I still remember sulking when my top two choices were “nurse” and “teacher.” Neither could have been farther from my interests. If I was going to be a medical professional, I wanted to be a doctor! As to teaching it seemed to mean repeatedly describing things that someone else had already learned. I wanted to be creative. It was liberating when I found out nearly every girl who took the test got the same, exact career suggestions—and that many of them secretly balked.

Fast forward to my “real” life. I worked in a government agency and had the good fortune to be trained in the field of Computer Programming and Analysis. There were thirty people in my class, and I was one of three chosen to be a team leader because of my flair for computers.

After a couple of years I moved to Denver and got a job as a computer programmer at a local bank. I’ll never forget being at work in the wee hours of the morning, testing out a new credit card system. My boss was there, too. We had been there for many overtime hours, several days in a row. I was sitting on a cabinet, chattering and noticed he was looking at me funny. “What?” I said. His reply: “You know, you’re the first woman we hired for the department. We didn’t think women had the stamina to do this job. Here you are still going strong, and I’m ready to drop!” He was under thirty. It was a proud moment for me because I knew I was breaking ground for women. By the time I left the department half the people in the computer department were women. So how come Silicon Valley seems to have gone backwards since then? Have the powers-that-be suddenly discovered that women don’t have the stamina to work long hours? Don’t have the creativity to produce new and exciting products? I sincerely doubt that I am unusual in being creative and having a lot of drive in the computer field. I suspect that the answer to my questions goes back to the same old locker room mentality that has kept women from full parity in the business world.

Terry Shames with Sara Paretsky.

I moved to San Francisco and continued to work in programming for several years, but for a particular reason I didn’t have the heart to challenge the old boy network that meant every person in management in the computer field was a man. I had a dream of becoming a writer. As a writer I thought that for once I’d be in a clear playing field. If the novels I wrote were good enough, I would get the same recognition that men got. Was I ever wrong!

Some writer friends suggested I go to a big writer’s conference called Bouchercon. There, I attended an organizational meeting of a group that was calling itself Sisters in Crime. I found out that the reason Sara Paretsky felt the need for such a group was that although over half of mystery writers were women, something like 10% of the reviews were of women’s crime novels. So I discovered that even women writers endured an uneven playing field.

Since that time twenty-five years ago, things have certainly changed for the better. Believe it or not, when I was young you rarely saw women cab and bus drivers; doctors; lawyers; building contractors; architects, to name a few. I look at young women now and am so happy for the choices they have that those of us who “had a mind of our own” worked for. But we still have plenty to do to further the status of women in our society. Women still make less money than men do for the same job. Men hold the overwhelming majority of management jobs. Women are still expected to do the lion’s share of housework and child-rearing, even if they hold full time jobs. And I’m still waiting for the time when books that women write are considered as worthy of reviews as those that men write.

I recently was stunned reading a New York Times Book Review to find that in the entire review section there were only two women writers reviewed. It wasn’t a particularly “male-oriented” issue of the review. I immediately fired off a letter regarding that issue. That’s what women have to do to right these egregious practices—we have to take note of them and bring our notice to the attention of those who make such decisions. That’s only the first step. Our voices need to be raised continually. Young women today have so many more choices that they may think the fight for equality is over. But as with any journey, the last few miles can be the hardest. I hope we can rededicate ourselves as women to traveling those last miles with resolve so that we no longer have the necessity for headlines about gender gap in jobs and pay.

Terry Shames. (Photo by Margaretta K. Mitchell.)

Terry Shames (Berkeley, CA) is the author of A KILLING AT COTTON HILL, THE LAST DEATH OF JACK HARBIN, and DEAD BROKE IN JARRETT CREEK, the first three Samuel Craddock mysteries. She is the coeditor of FIRE IN THE HILLS, a book of stories, poems, and photographs about the 1991 Oakland Hills Fire. She grew up in Texas and continues to be fascinated by the convoluted loyalties and betrayals of the small town where her grandfather was the mayor. Terry is a member of the Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime.

EMILY is here!

It’s been quiet in these parts, I know, I know. I’ve been up to my elbows in freelance work and poems. And I’ve mostly been functioning on coffee and guacamole. But somehow, in the chaos of the past few months, I managed to write a few poems to send to Porkbelly Press‘ EMILY anthology. Destroying the Western Cannon as usual, I went through some of Emily Dickinson’s letters and erasured them into new poems. Lo and behold, Team Porkbelly dug my work, and I’m appearing in this anthology that celebrates her life and her achievements. Ms. Emily D. might not have seen erasure before, but I’d like to think she’d approve of this work. And of the many wonderful works that appear in EMILY.

Porkbelly Press, February 2015.

In case a couple of poems from yours truly aren’t enough for your hard-earned $8.50, there’s also work by the following wonderful writers and artists in this LIMITED EDITION (like only 125 ever) anthology:

Natasha Arora, Sarah Feldman, Laura Garrison, Karen George, Sonja Johanson, Sarah Nichols, Jeremy Pataky, Nicole Tong, Robin Turner, Loretta Diane Walker, Hilda Weaver, & Laura Madeline Wiseman.

Emily Dickinson.

I know, I know! Such a dream team! I am honored to be here alongside these fabulous creators, and when I saw so many familiar names I was beyond thrilled. You should be, too. I mean, seriously. This is going to be a treat. Way to go, Porkbelly! (Here’s some more info from the PP site.)

Some of you may know that my not-so-secret, real-on-my-birth-certificate name is Emily. And I’ve written before about the magic moment that was finding a hardcover of Emily D.’s Collected Poems on the bargain table at a South Portland book store. How I used to read her poems to myself and pretend I was named after her. (Sorry, everyone I lied to in second grade). So this is quite a full-circle moment for me.

I’m hoping that I can take it even more full circle. I did buy a broken-down version of Emily Dickinson’s Collected Poems and a bunch of white-out and sharpies. With a little luck, I might be able to keep destroying the Western Cannon. Or, you know, making art. With Emily. For Emily.

And I’m also hoping that y’all will go check out Porkbelly Press, and buy yourself an EMILY. And maybe some other poetry books and zines, too. Because, damn, if they don’t make beautiful books! (I may be binging on Porkbelly products in the near future…)

Review: VIVIAN APPLE AT THE END OF THE WORLD by Katie Coyle

Doomsday cults are a thing of legend here in America — it’s something we’ve seen over and over again, often resulting in tragedy. In Vivian Apple’s world, it’s gone beyond tragedy. It’s a revolution that she can’t wrap her head around. Church of America leader Beaton Frick has convinced almost everyone that the apocalypse is nigh, and that in order to be saved they must follow his gospel: The Book of Frick.

HMH Books for Young Readers, January 2015.

In VIVIAN APPLE AT THE END OF THE WORLD, Vivian and her best friend Harp are first thrown for a loop when their parents are raptured — like, actually disappeared without a trace. As chaos descends on their community, Vivian ends up in the custody of her grandparents in New York while Harp holes up with her older brother and his boyfriend. But when a terrifying hurricane threatens  to hit the east coast, and Vivian receives a strange, hang-up phone call, she steals her grandfather’s car, picks up Harp in Philly, and sets off on a mission to see if she can figure out what Frick & Co. are really up to. Vivian doesn’t believe, and she isn’t ready to watch the Believers destroy the America she once loved.

This book dares to tackle sensitive topics — most specifically, religious fundamentalism– and does so in a way that is both insightful and entertaining. Vivian’s story could be anyone’s really, and that’s part of what makes her an enjoyable character. VIVIAN APPLE AT THE END OF THE WORLD is indubitably patriotic, which is something I love in a novel — especially a novel that challenges so many core values that we consider American. The added mythology of Frick and the Church of America just ups the ante. This is not a love story — it’s a story of identity, friendship, and heroism, and I cannot wait to see where Vivian and Harp take us in the forthcoming sequel. Way to go, Katie Coyle. I’m hooked.

Good News! Another Poetry Chapbook Releasing in 2016!

As you might have gotten from the title, I sold another chapbook of poetry!

They say three’s a crowd, but I think my third chapbook, forthcoming from ELJ Publications, will get along great with my other volumes of poetry.

ACOUSTIC BATTERY LIFE, which consists of selections from Found Poetry Review‘s Oulipost project, is a short collection of poems written by applying Oulipian (or Oulipian-esque) constraints to the daily newspaper during the month of April, 2014. In my case, that was the Austin American-Statesman. (Hi, Statesman!) The book is scheduled for release in January 2016.

When I started the project — reluctantly, I might add, since it terrified me — I didn’t think it would generate enough cohesive work for a chap. But after running the poems through my own filter and the lovely filter that is my critique partner Amber Beilharz, I had a little manuscript ready. I know ELJ is going to be a great home for these (really) weird poems.

The manuscript includes a belle absente ode to Disney Princesses, a found sestina (praise be to Doug Luman for his poetry-making tools!), “haikuisation,” and a quote cento.

I’m thrilled to announce this, and I’m so thankful to everyone at Found Poetry Review, especially Jenni B. Baker and Beth Ayer, who put together our playbook of prompts and managed to organize all of us over the month. I can’t wait to see what we do in 2015!

Thanks again to Ariana D. Den Bleyker and the team at ELJ for finding me in the slush and liking my little book. I can’t wait for January 2016, when I’ll be able to share it with the whole wide everyone.

A Creative’s Guide to Surviving the Winter Months Without Completely Spiralling into that Dark Place that None of Us Want to Talk About

I write about my mental health sometimes. Sometimes I think it’s helpful. But I wanted to write something actually-on-purpose helpful. With the caveat that sometimes none of these things work, because my brain (and maybe yours) is an asshole. And, you know, that’s when you have to just hang in there. Especially when the holidays look kind of like this to you:

But…just hanging in there isn’t fun, and waiting to see the light at the end of the tunnel is exhausting. I’ve been working on this post for a while, and have been sort of hesitant to pull the trigger, so to speak. But after a few conversations with more than one art-y write-y friend struggling in recent weeks, I figure it’s about time. I’m a hot mess, too, but I thought I’d share some of my tactics. You know, tricks for keeping the hot mess under control. Or at least manageable.

1. LET YOUR CLOSE FRIENDS KNOW WHAT’S UP

This is crucial. You don’t have to tell all of Facebook or send a mass text. But let your people — the people you’d call if you needed to bury a body had a flat tire or needed good advice — know a) what your mental health concerns are, b) what medications you take (in case of emergency), and c) that you might need to call in a favor or two. All you might end up needing is a hug and a chat. Or you might accidentally have one too many glasses of wine and need a friend to keep an eye on you. (Personally, I avoid drinking almost altogether because even a moderate amount of alcohol + most psych meds = ambulance ride.)  Or you might need someone to talk you down from a panic attack, or to sit with you through a rough afternoon. The important part here, no matter what emergency you might have, is that you have someone to call who knows what you’re going through. That’s super, super important.

2. STAY EFFING BUSY.

I can’t emphasize this enough. It’s a slow time for work for a lot of us — in publishing, folks are on vacation. In more traditional office jobs, people are slowing down because it’s the end of the year. Retail and customer service gigs are another story altogether, but if you’re spending most of your time at home or on the job looking at Facebook and feeling like everyone else is doing stuff and you’re not doing stuff and thinking you should be doing stuff and getting negative about it, well, it’s not very productive or healthy. This is a good time to work on those hobbies. Or to write that novel that you know will never sell but, damnit, you just really want to try it out. To bake or to phone a friend and take a trip to a tourist trap just outside of town. Live-blog while marathoning a cult show that you’ve never seen before. SOMETHING. Whether you’re an introvert, an extrovert, or somewhere in between, you want to make sure you’re doing something other than staring at the wall. Which I know can be hard sometimes. I spent most of Sunday staring at the wall. It happens. Having stuff to do, though, can help keep those wall-staring moments to a minimum.

3. CREATE!

This is perhaps a little (a lot) close to the above tip, but, hey, specificity. You should make stuff. Even when you don’t feel like it, do a project. Not even necessarily a project for your “main” creative outlet. If you’re a writer, bake! If you’re a baker, paint! If you’re a painter, write!  Or, you could use the downtime to work on a project that you NEED to work on. Give yourself deadlines, if it helps. Feeling productive is HUGE when you’re not doing very well.

4. GIVE YOURSELF PERMISSION TO FEEL YOUR FEELINGS.

Look, ignoring the pain/loneliness/panic/anxiety/depression/rage isn’t going to make it go away. And maybe you can’t express those feelings in your art, and maybe you can’t always talk about it with your loved ones. But you can’t feel bad about having those feelings. They’re not your fault. They just ARE. So feel them. It’s okay. Cry it out. Hug it out. Sleep it off. Whatever works. Just take care of yourself WHILE you’re feeling those feelings.

5. IT’S OKAY TO STAY HOME

As much as I advocate being busy during these times, you also don’t necessarily have to always be social. Some of us feel better when we go hang out with a huge group of people. Some of us are totally stressed out by it. You know yourself. Do you feel better when you get out of the house, even when you didn’t really want to? Then, yeah, you should probably go to the holiday party. Have you been to way too many events lately and come home feeling totally drained and depressed? Then, yeah, you should probably skip it this time. Your friends will understand. And anyone who doesn’t understand isn’t worth worrying about, I promise.

6. HAVE A GO-TO FEEL-GOOD THING AT THE READY

Here are some of my feel-good things: Prince. The Sandlot. MacGuyver. Scrubs. Taylor Swift.  Old Louis Sachar books. Cards Against Humanity. Red lipstick. …You get the idea. Whatever things you have in your life that always make you feel good, have those things ready to go for bad days. They might not make everything better, but they’ll take the edge off.

7. GET DRESSED EVERY DAY AS IF YOU’RE GOING TO SEE FRIENDS OR GO TO WORK.

This one is super important for those of us who work from home/don’t have “day jobs.” It’s so easy to stay in your pajamas when you’re depressed and don’t have anywhere to be. Maybe you even skip showering for longer than you should. No makeup, no pants, no rules. Guess what? Rules are WAY helpful when it comes to depression. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’ll feel worse. So, if you would normally put on a full face of makeup to go see your friends, then put on a full face of makeup before you sit down to check your email in the morning. You have to remember that you’re WORTH getting dressed, putting on your favorite earrings, and dabbing on a bit of lipgloss. You’re WORTH taking regular showers and putting on your favorite shirt, even if you might not see anyone today who isn’t the UPS guy. Show yourself that you care about yourself. It helps, I promise.

8. GET THE HELL OUT OF THE HOUSE.

Again, this is a big one for work-at-home types. And this isn’t about social engagements, which, as I mentioned above, you have to keep an eye on depending on whether they make you feel better or worse. But if your routine consists mostly of you being at home during the day, you should try changing it up. Go to a coffee shop (especially if you can walk there — fresh air, yay!) and read or bring your laptop or just sit there and enjoy a cup of whatever makes you happy. Go for a walk and jam to some awesome music while you’re doing it (I recommend Prince). Run an errand you’ve been putting off. Changing locations isn’t just good for your depressive/anxious/asshole brain, it’s also good for your creative juju. Kind of like how you ALWAYS get ideas in the shower. (Make sure you bring a notebook when you leave the house, obviously.)

9. DON’T BE AFRAID TO ASK FOR HELP

Remember in #1 when I told you how you should tell your people that you’ve got bipolar/depression/anxiety/other? You have to remember that you told those friends because you trust them and they care about you. They will care enough about you that when you call them at 4 a.m. losing your mind that they won’t get mad. They will care enough about you that if you need some company because you feel like you just shouldn’t be alone tonight that they will come over or, if they can’t, they’ll help you find someone who will. Your loved ones LOVE you and that’s why you told them about your issues. Reach out. It’s so important.

10. REMEMBER THAT THIS, TOO, SHALL PASS.

I’m 32 years old. I was diagnosed when I was 18, and before that had been seeing doctors for a few years, trying to figure out why I was sick and what it was. So I have the advantage of experience here. I’ve been through a lot of really bad periods. I’ve downward spiralled. I’ve panicked. I’ve broken. I’ve healed. And as traumatic as it is, in that moment, I’ve learned one thing: I can sit it out. It sucks so much, but there is a light at the end of the scary, scary tunnel. I am stronger than my depression and I am stronger than my panic attacks. And I have to remember that every single time because it is SCARY. But, eventually — it may be hours or it may be days — it passes. Things level out. I feel okay. And you have to trust this, too. Of course, if you don’t feel like you can trust this, and if you don’t feel like you can wait it out, call for help. Please.

11. SPRING IS COMING!

Mental health issues don’t go away when the sun comes out, but it certainly makes it easier on a lot of us. So don’t forget that. This isn’t Game of Thrones. Winter doesn’t last for years. So give yourself a hug, from me. You’ve got this, friends!

An Open Letter to Pushcart Nominees: Brag It Up, You Beautiful Geniuses!

So I found out last week that I was nominated for a Pushcart. When I got the email, I was at home, sort of fumbling around on my way to try and get out the door to try and get some freelance work done at Ye Olde Coffee Shop. (Pay dem bills!)

In came that email, from John C. Mannone, the poetry editor at Abyss & Apex. It’s the kind of email that most of us who write for magazines and small presses are getting a ton of right now. They list their nominees and none of us expect to see our names so we skim and/or delete. For some reason, I actually read this one. Maybe because they’d recently published one of my favorite poems, maybe because a friend of mine had recently garnered a nod, and I thought, hey, I could get lucky, too!

Since I spend a lot of my time at home talking to/swearing at myself, I felt like I should say something. So I said “Wow.” And I sent John thank you note and then proceeded to tell everyone I’ve ever met that I’d been nominated for a Pushcart.

When, over the next day or so, I saw that a few other friends of mine had been nominated, I Googled “Pushcart Nominations” to see if there was some master list. There wasn’t. But I did find this Open Letter to Pushcart Nominated Folks in which writerperson Jon Fox basically tells us all to shut the fuck up about our nominations because putting your nomination in your bio or cover letter makes you sound desperate and kind of dumb and, anyway, it’s not a big deal because HERE’S SOME MATH you silly writers. (He also says that, P.S., yes he’s been nominated, wink wink.)

I got The Rage. For Chrissakes, I had a Pushcart nomination! I was fucking PROUD. And this guy has the fourth Google result for “Pushcart Nominations” and all he has to say, to all of the Pushcart nominees on the planet, is that a Pushcart nod is NBD?

According to the Pushcart Prize site, “The Pushcart Prize was named among the most influential projects in the history of American publishing by Publishers Weekly.” Wow! In my own (however tiny) way, I’m now a part of the project. And, to make it even sweeter, the nominated piece is a poem that I wrote years ago, and which received (probably close to) hundreds of rejections before the team at Abyss & Apex saw it, loved it, printed it, and then took an extra step by saying “this is one of our favorites of the year, let’s see if we can get this author an award.” I can’t be the only nominated writer who can say something like this about her nominated piece. Most of us have piles of rejections and hours of rewriting behind everything that makes it out there.

An editor reads SO MANY poems (stories, essays) every year. Like, jillions. Okay, maybe more like thousands. But, still. It’s overwhelming. To even be published in a magazine is a struggle and a challenge. And, sure, throw some statistics at me, Jon Fox. Tell me that there are XYZ nominees because there are ABC journals. I don’t really care. Because one editor championed my piece and a handful of others from a whole year of submissions, from a whole year of poems that he published. Tell me, how is that not a big deal?

Someone says I’m worthy of a Pushcart. And it’s not my grandmother. (My grandmother probably thinks I’m worthy of a Pulitzer, a National Book Award, and should maybe be Poet Laureate for the next 50 years. That’s her job. She’s my grandmother.) The job of a lit mag editor is not to just hand out Pushcart nominations like Oprah hands out cars. It’s to curate a beautiful magazine. And, at Pushcart time, it’s his or her job to pick his or her favorites, if he or she has favorites, to tell the Pushcart folks about.

There is no way in hell anyone can tell me (or you) that this isn’t a big deal. Maybe, on the master list of nominations, I’m in a pool of thousands of other authors (all of these authors’ nominations are also a big deal!). But, at Abyss & Apex, I’m in a pool of four. Four! And, crap, how rude would it be if I wrote to John and said something like “Thanks, brah, but this doesn’t really mean a whole lot, because, you know, math.”

I don’t know how long I’ll tout “Pushcart-nominated” or “was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize by Abyss & Apex” in my bio. But, right now, I’m digging it. And I have plenty of accomplishments currently under my belt, and I’m sure there are plenty yet to come. So don’t you dare call me desperate, Jon Fox. Call me proud. Hell, call me arrogant, if you must. I’ve got other stuff to do.

And you! You beautiful, wonderful, Pushcart-nominated writers. You writers with your very first publication, you writers with so many published books that you can’t even remember half of their titles! You, you genius creators, shouting into the void, waiting for someone to say, “Yes, I’m listening, yes, I hear you!”  You — when you get that Pushcart nod, brag about it. Put it in your bio, if you want. Put it on your Twitter profile. Put it in your cover letters and your email signatures and your family newsletters. Tattoo it on your boobs.  Whatever makes you feel good.  It’s a big deal. You earned it. Savor it. And go ahead and shin-kick any naysayers. As the great poet T. Swift said, “Haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate,” after all.

Things I Did In November (Sorry, NaNoWriMo)

This November was possibly the busiest I’ve had in years — maybe since the release of DEAR TEEN ME in November 2012. (Shout out to my peeps at Zest Books!)

I figured I ought to do a round up since a) radio silence on the blog has been killing me and b) when I don’t post anything my grandmother thinks I might be dead. (Luckily, Facebook solves the b problem most of the time.)

First, I want to tell you what I didn’t do that I meant to do:

1. Write a NaNo novel. SORRY. It wasn’t in the cards this year. But I still love my idea and intend to write it at some point in 2015.

2. Catch up on writing book reviews. I read some awesome books this fall, and hopefully I can tell you about them in December and January.

ON TO THE GOOD STUFF!

Cicada Magazine, November/December 2014.

So, the first super cool thing that happened in November is that I was published for the first time in Cicada! Cicada is probably the first magazine I’ve been in that my mom has actually heard of, so that was pretty cool. I also grew up reading its sister magazine Cricket, which makes being in Cicada extra special. I mean, it’s already pretty special. Have you read Cicada? It’s an awesome mag!  They published three of my erasure poems and hosted an erasure contest for teen readers, which closed yesterday. Oh, and, yeah, I said “for the first time” — this is because a) I have more poems coming up in a later issue and b) I love working with Team Cicada and I hope they’ll want to work with me again down the road!

Crazy author copy face!

The next super cool thing that happened in November is that my second chapbook, A JAB OF DEEP URGENCY came out. This book, as you know, has been blood, sweat and tears. (Mostly sweat, let’s be real.) And being able to hold it in my hands, and to see other people holding it in their hands, has been AWESOME! If you don’t have a copy yet and you’d like a signed/personalized copy, email me at e.kristin.anderson AT gmail DOT com and we’ll make arrangements for that happen — I have copies leftover from events. AND, since ’tis the season and all that, I’ll throw in some treats.

Right on the heels of the release of URGENCY came the YALSA Young Adult Literature Symposium! I was only able to attend the Book Blitz on Saturday evening, but it was so fantastic getting to chat with some of my favorite out of town friends, local pals, and librarians and educators! Thanks to all who came out and got a copy of DEAR TEEN ME.

At the YALSA symposium!

On the same night as the YALSA event, I read for the first time in Austin with fellow Austin writer Tatiana Ryckman at Malvern Books here in Austin. (I felt very fancy jumping in a cab to go from one event to the next. Also stressed. BUT FANCY.) Team Malvern was so gracious, and I had so much fun meeting folks from the literary community. I was crazy nervous, since the only other poetry reading I’d ever really done was at AWP last year at the Pulitzer Remix/er with like 10 other people, with a crowd full of buddies. Apparently, I wasn’t terrible. Here is a video — judge for yourself!  Malvern has copies of A GUIDE FOR THE PRACTICAL ABDUCTEE which I am sure they would love to sell you. And they also have a lot of other awesome books and literary journals from small presses. It’s a truly wonderful store!

PAUSING NOW to let you know that at the above events I debuted TWO brand new reading guides written by local educator and writer Colleen Conrad. Colleen is the genius behind the DEAR TEEN ME reading guide, and the ones she did for ABDUCTEE and URGENCY are just as excellent. If you’re looking to have poetry in your classroom this year, check these out. You can download all of my reading guides on my educator resources page. And, as I told all the educators at the YALSA event, I Skype in for free when you buy a class set of any of my books for your classroom or book club.

I REGISTERED FOR AWP 2015. That’s right, y’all.  See you in Minneapolis! I may or may not be on the look out for Prince the entire time I’m there.

My pals and I went to a HUNGER GAMES trivia night at Opal Divine’s Marina and had an absolutely awesome time. We came in 6th, which isn’t bad, since I think there were like 30 teams. We also forgot to study MOCKINGJAY because we misinterpreted the “no spoilers from MOCKINGJAY” warning to mean “we won’t be doing any MOCKINGJAY questions.” Woops.

Team Peetaphiles! (I’m told that the goal of your pub trivia team name is to make everyone else a little queasy.) Photo courtesy of Geeks Who Drink.

We then went to see MOCKINGJAY PART I the next night, dressed up like Capitol citizens, because that’s how we do. Here’s me and my pal Alicia:

It took two days to get the purple out of my eyebrows.

My last event of the month was the celebration of my two 2014 chapbooks, which was hosted at The Book Spot in Round Rock, TX. I’ve always loved The Book Spot — they hosted my DEAR TEEN ME launch as well, which was so fun! We had a small crowd, since that Saturday was a day of torrential rain and flood warnings all over the city. So, it was definitely intimate, but very fun, and I’m so grateful to the folks who came out. And I’m also grateful to the folks who wanted to be there, but couldn’t because, you know, danger. I know The Book Spot has some signed copies left, so be sure to stop by!

The lovely crowd who came out to my Book Spot event. Thanks guys! (Yes, I’m wearing Prince.)

I made this pie:

Pie.

This is an Early Grey cream pie.  I found the recipe in the Austin American-Statesman in April. (Yep, during Oulipost. Ha!) Upon further research, I discovered that it comes from TEENY’S TOUR OF PIE. I must have this book. So must you.

I finished my inadvertent Prince chapbook and handed it over to two critique partners. Hopefully I can start submitting by the new year. I also began organizing my full-length erasure collection. And by “began organizing” I mean gave it to a CP and said “please please please help me this is a mess.” So, you know. I also keep writing new pieces for that collection, because magazines keep coming and I am terrible.

Throughout November, I had a lucky streak of poetry acceptances. I’ll let you know what and where when they come out. It was pretty wild, since a) it was all for experimental/found poetry and b) they were all accepted at more mainstream journals. So I’m pumped about that! Just to keep it real, though, I got WAY more rejections than I did acceptances. Here is a pile of rejections just from the month of November.  (And these are just the ones that came in the mail — you should see my email inbox!)

A nice big pile of NO.

Just this past weekend, I found out that I was nominated for a Pushcart Prize by the poetry editor at Abyss & Apex. I’m effing excited. What’s even more exciting is that fellow Found Poetry Review team member Douglas Luman was nominated by the same magazine. Also, my good pal Emma Fissenden was nominated (by a different magazine). I’m so happy for all of the nominees, and I’m still sort of in this weird place of disbelief that I got a nod. The nominated poem is “At that age when we girls become fairies,” and, just FYI, I probably sent this to at least a hundred magazines over three years before A&A picked it up and championed it. Just goes to show, y’all: a) don’t quit & b) all it takes is one yes.

Today, it is technically no longer November. But I wanted to share that the new issue of Halfway Down the Stairs launched. I have three poems in the issue and I am so proud to have them there. Shout out to my girl Roxanna Bennett who is on the HDtS team and also has an awesome new collection out. Anyway, HDtS is a wonderful online magazine and I’d love for you to give it a gander.

That’s all for now. And, damn, that’s a LOT! Thanks to the folks whose photos I, er, borrowed from social media for this post. And thanks to everyone who has supported me this year, last year, all the years — GROUP HUG. Happy Holidays. Watch out for Krampus. I’m off to send out some more submissions.