It’s been an amazing summer. I can’t believe how busy I’ve been, or how fast it went. I started a haiku study group on Facebook. I learned how to make corn tortillas from scratch, and how to deep-fry avocados. I published a very angry and very NSFW poem at Thank You For Swallowing. I featured at poetry open mics in both San Antonio and Waco. I hosted a party for the first time since I was married. I started working on a new chapbook almost by accident. I started learning the Wudang staff form. I joined the Adult Education department at ACC. I quit my office job. I amassed over 30 hours of professional development credit. I got to see the Mountain Goats at the Moody Theater. I joined a wine club. I spent a lot of time poolside with a margarita and at least one of my best friends.
I’ve been very busy, and also very happy.
This morning begins a whole new chapter to my poetry and my career. The fall semester begins tomorrow, and I’m teaching five classes in two different departments. Yes, five classes is a lot, and I didn’t quite plan for this many. It happened largely by accident, due to staffing vacancies, and quite a bit of it ended up getting solidified at the last minute. But even though it’s going to be a lot of work, I’m thrilled. Making your living as an adjunct is tough, and it’s nice to know that this semester, I’m going to be doing well financially. Plus, while I’ve taken on a big workload, I’m finally at the point where teaching is all I do for a living. I’m not making end’s meet with an office job or other work. I get to be a writing teacher, pure and simple. It’s taken a lot of work to get here, and I’m grateful that the effort has finally paid off.
This morning, I also begin my MFA through the University of Texas at El Paso. I’m grateful that technology has evolved to the point where it’s viable for me to study with the amazing faculty at UTEP and still live in Austin. I’m taking two classes this semester: Advanced Poetry Workshop and Writing and Social Action. I’m definitely nervous about returning to the graduate classroom after being away for so long. But I can’t wait. I’m so excited to see how this experience shapes my career.
Summer is my favorite season (yes, even in Texas), but I think I’m going to have a great autumn.
I remember seeing an ad for the UT-El Paso Online MFA in Poets & Writers magazine back in 2011 (or maybe early 2012). Even before I knew much about the program, I was excited by the prospect of being able to pursue an MFA online, without having to leave Austin. (Heck, I didn’t even want to go for an MFA yet, and I was still intrigued.)
Yes, UT-Austin has not one, but two excellent MFA programs (one at the Michener Center, and one through the English Department), plus we’re adjacent to Texas State in San Marcos. But I never had a gut feeling that these programs were right for me. They’ve produced a lot of great work and have wonderful faculty, including some of my favorite poets. But I still never quite got the sense that these were programs that were right for me.
I kept re-visiting the UTEP Online MFA description every 4 or 5 months over the next couple of years. There was always a reason to talk myself out of it. I wasn’t ready, I wasn’t sure I wanted an MFA, I didn’t know how I was going to pay for it, I was getting divorced, and on and on. I kept finding reasons not to apply.
But toward the end of 2014, things began to feel settled. I also felt I was in a place with my writing where I was ready for the challenges an MFA could bring. It was the next logical step in my career path. So I applied.
The funny thing about the process was, I dreaded writing the statement of purpose. I still remember how much I struggled to write one in 2005 when I was applying to graduate school the first time around. But as it turns out, this time it wasn’t so bad. Maybe because I have a stronger sense of purpose at 31 than I did at 21.
So I applied, and I waited, and waited… and I found out last week that I got in! I’ve already received a course description list, and have an advising call tomorrow! The program starts in August, and I can’t wait. I look forward to meeting my other five new classmates when we convene in our digital space this fall.
(I know this is mostly a poetry blog. It’s been probably two years since I last wrote about food. But several people have requested my bagel recipe, so here it is!)
I love bagels. And as much as I love Texas, quality bagels are difficult to get down here. So as I began to get more experienced with baking bread, I decided to give bagels a try.
My first two attempts were pretty dismal, and I didn’t try again for a few years. But I decided after I moved into my current place that I really wanted to give them a try again. I’ve been making a batch at least once a month, trying to get bagels right. Finally, last weekend, I hit the jackpot, and I have taste-tester agreement to confirm it.
The recipe I use is based off of Rose Levy Beranbaum’s bagel recipe, which can be found in The Bread Bible. This recipe has served as my template, but the additions of sourdough and rye are my own.
To begin, you will need an established sourdough starter. Your starter can be liquid or stiff. I personally use a stiff starter, and that’s what’s called for in this recipe. For more information on starters, check out this article by Rose Levy Beranbaum.
Time: At least 8 hours (most of this involve dough rising), or as many as 48.
Yield: Approximately 10 bagels
Note: Although this goes without saying for experienced sourdough users, you should give your starter a good feeding before using it in this recipe.
Ingredients:
Bagel Starter
Approx. 1/4 cup stiff sourdough starter
2 1/4 cups lukewarm water
3 cups bread flour
Flour mixture
2 cups bread flour
1/3 cup rye flour
1 teaspoon instant or active dry yeast
1 tablespoon malt powder or barley malt syrup
1 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoon salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
Water Bath
2 tablespoons molasses or 1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
Glaze and topping
2 large egg whites
1 teaspoon cold water
3-4 tablespoons caraway seeds
Procedure
1. Combine the flour and water for the bagel starter. Tear up the stiff starter into small pieces. Stir together until they make a lumpy, thick batter. Cover with a clean towel or plastic wrap
2. In a large bowl, combine the ingredients for the flour mixture. Remove the starter cover and pour the flour mixture on top of it, covering the starter. Re-cover. Let stand 1-4 hours at room temperature, or 1 hour at room temperature and then refrigerated for up to 24 hours. (The longer it refrigerates, the stronger the flavor)
3. If the starter has been refrigerated, let stand at room temperature 30 minutes prior to mixing. If you’re using a mixer, put your dough hook on a low setting and mix 8-10 minutes. If by hand, stir the flour into the starter and then knead 10-15 minutes. You may need to add additional flour if the dough is sticky. Do so gradually, about a teaspoon at a time.
4. Place the dough in an oiled bowl and oil the top. Cover. Let rise for 1-2 hours until doubled. Deflate the dough, give it an envelope turn, and put it back in the container. Re-oil, cover, and refrigerate 4-12 hours.
5. Let refrigerated dough stand at room temperature 30 minutes before shaping. Cut the dough into 10 pieces. Roll each piece into a ball, then make a hole in the center with your finger. Hook your thumbs through the hole and stretch it until the hole is about 2.5 inches in diameter. Cover the dough with a towel and let rest for about 10 minutes.
6. Preheat the oven to 500 and then bring a pot of water to a boil. Stir in the molasses/sugar and baking soda. Boil the bagels for 30 seconds to 2 minutes per side (longer boiling time results in a thicker crust). You will probably only be able to boil 2 bagels at a time. Remove the boiled bagels with a slotted skimmer and place them on parchment or a towel to drain.
7. Whisk the eggs whites and water together. Brush each bagel with two coats. Sprinkle the seeds over each bagel.
8. Bake the bagels at 500 for 5 minutes. Drop the heat to 450 and then bake for 20 minutes.
Note: Beranbaum’s recipe has you then turn off the oven but leave the bagels in for 5 minutes, and then prop open the oven door and leave them in 5 minutes more. Mine always come out overdone when I follow those last steps, but if your bagels don’t look quite done, add those last ten minutes to your baking time.
9. Enjoy bagels with the topping of your choice.
This week, Trivia: Voices of Feminism launched its newest issue, which includes my short memoir, “The First Six Months of Survival.” The essay is about loss of fellow writer and dear friend Reesa Brown, and brings to the fold some of the most important books I read during that time.
It’s interesting how things have changed since I finished that piece. For example, in the last section, I talk about wanting to scatter Reesa’s ashes in New Orleans, but I ended up scattering them in Prague when I was there last month. But I made the conscious decision not to change that part of the essay to note what actually happened. This piece is a reflection of where I was at a certain point in time. I’m satisfied with the way it ends; I didn’t want to change it.
I’m also glad this piece found a home with Trivia; they’ve published my work before, and they’re one of my favorite feminist spaces online, and to share this issue with writers I admire so much.
April has been a busy month, with little time for blogging. So I slacked off on linking to the Pulitzer Remix poems. But it’s the last night of this project, so time for one more roundup!
April 15th: “Stranger”
April 16th: “Break Free”
April 17th: “Open Window”
April 18th: “Ennui”
April 19th: “It’s not being sure that keeps him alive”
April 20th: “We are all trying to leave our bodies behind”
April 21st: “Kitchen”
April 22nd: “For one thing”
April 23rd: “Summertime, and the living is…”
April 24th: “Scene”
April 25th: “Summer, Ending”
April 26th: “On the subject of her martyrdom”
April 27th: “A Hot Thing”
April 28th: “Financial Times”
April 29th: “She couldn’t get over the city”
April 30th: “High Summer“
The January portion of the 30/30 Project ended today. Thanks to everyone who donated as a result of our efforts. Your contributions are appreciated by press and poet alike.
Final inspirations: Patti Smith albums (specifically Gung Ho and Peace and Noise), Lewis Turco’s “Paren(t)hesis” exercise in Wingbeats, Afaa Michael Weaver’s “The Bop” exercise in Wingbeats, the smell of barbecue in the middle of the afternoon, Ravi Shankar’s “A Manipulated Fourteen-Line Poem” in Wingbeats, and Catherine Bowman’s “The Bermuda Triangle” exercise in Wingbeats.
The project also generated notice from Kenyon Review blogger Elizabeth Lindsey Rogers. I wrote a long comment at the post, and because I feel like it does a great job of summarizing why I undertook this project and what I got out of it, I’m going to reproduce that comment here:
As a Tupelo 30/30 participant, this challenge was an extension of my own practice. In 2012 I committed to drafting a poem a day. And I used the term “drafting” consciously. I did not have to finish a poem in a day. I just had to get a draft of a piece down on paper.
At the end of the year, maybe a third of what I wrote ended up getting revised and completed. Most of what I wrote ended up not going very far. But the point wasn’t to produce finished drafts every day. The point was to sit down and do the words to see what arose from discipline. And what arose was more quality work than I’d produced before, when I’d waited for inspiration to happen.
With the Tupelo 30/30, the goal intensified. For an entire month, I couldn’t have a bad day. Not once so far have I been able to say “Today’s words sucked, but oh well. I’ll leave them be and do better tomorrow.” Being able to have an off-day is a luxury. If a poem utterly failed, I had to start over until I got something worthwhile.
People were going to be reading everything I put up–-I couldn’t turn in awful work. My goal for the Tupelo project was to have something I would consider worthy of taking into my critique group. I don’t take rough drafts into that group; I take in poems that have potential, that will achieve fullness.
Some of my Tupelo poems I do consider finished work. Most are still in-progress. A few have already been taken to critique group. I know that not all of my pieces will resonate with all of our audience members, but I’m proud of the work I did. I’m also humbled by the work of the eight other poets who took this challenge with me in January. I’m continually impressed with the quality of their work.
A big thanks to T.M. De Vos, Shannon Hardwick, Lindsay Penelope Illich, Mike McGeehon, Janie Miller, Nina Pick, Katerina Stoykova-Klemer, and Margaret Young. I had an amazing month writing with you.
And best wishes to the February participants. I can’t wait to read your work.
Okay, maybe I shouldn’t be so silly, but I just couldn’t resist making that reference. What can I say? I’m giddy.
I found out that my poem, “Of Barbecue and Blood,” won third prize in the Southern Writers Symposium Emerging Writers Award. I was floored when I found out. I’m looking forward to planning a trip to North Carolina for the Symposium, and meeting my fellow winners, as well as all the other writers in attendance.
“Of Barbecue and Blood” is an abecedarian sonnet, and it discusses both food and Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Those opposed to blood or horror movies might want to look away, because I’m posting the poem below.
Of Barbecue and Blood
Everyone knows it’s all about the sausage; that’s the good stuff,
going, then gone at the market, but most people relish
ignorance of how it’s made. I envision the hook, a metal J,
keeping up slabs of meat, and then a full
memory of Leatherface, Pam hung up like pork, and then
once that’s done, stuffed in the freezer, as though the health department might stop,
question the family about their hygiene practices. Celluloid horror
shaped my first opinions about Texas. Maybe that’s why when I set
up shop here, I went vegetarian for four years, no beef, no chicken kiev.
What years I wasted, fearing meat, but there’s only so much cheese-filled Tex-Mex
you can eat before you have to try the good stuff. They started me on Kruez,
Artz, then Southside, and learned a thing or two about sauce and rub.
Calm down, memory of monster movies. I’m not going home empty-handed.
I’ve got some literary excitement headed my way this month!
First, I’m guest-hosting the BookWoman Poetry Open Mic on January 10th. The event will feature Gloria Amescua.
Gloria Amescua is an inaugural member of CantoMundo, a national Latino poetry community. She resides in Austin, Texas and received a Masters degree from the University of Texas in Austin. Gloria has a chapbook, Windchimes. She has published in several journals, including Awakening, IXHUA, Di-Verse-City, Kweli Journal (www.kwelijournal.org), Generations Literary Journal, Texas Poetry Calendar 2013, and Acentos Review, August 2012 (www.acentosreview.com). A workshop presenter for youth and adults, she was also a 2011 resident at Hedgebrook?s Writers in Residence program in Washington.
Come out at 7:15, and bring a few poems to share! I’ll be reading some new stuff, and also some selections from my chapbook because….
We’re Smaller Than We Think We Are goes up for pre-order this month! On January 15th, you can start placing your orders, which will ship in April. Finishing Line Press is offering a shipping discount for all pre-orders, so order now! The book won’t be available on Amazon until the pre-order period is over, so this is the time to get a jump on getting your copy.
And, as I mentioned yesterday, I’m participating in the 30/30 Project as a fundraiser for Tupelo Press. Any amount you can give helps! Check out the blog, enjoy the poems, and contribute.
This feels like the month I’m just trying to empty your wallet. But poetry is always a good cause. Do it for Maxwell!
The screencap above is the Scrivener corkboard view for my next poetry manuscript! I finished the very first full draft about an hour ago. The working title is Curved Tongue, Forked Road, and I’m pretty sure it’s going to stay that way for the rest of the revision process, though I’m open to the possibility that it might change.
These are poems I’ve been writing since I made the final selections for inclusion in my chapbook. Once that was done and I started sending out We’re Smaller Than We Think We Are, every poem I wrote was considered for possible inclusion in the next book. The writing process thus began in late August/early September 2011. Since I have the practice of writing a poem a day, I began to generate possible poems pretty quickly. That’s not to say that every poem I have written per day has been worth considering. I think only about 10-15% of the poems I write I consider worth revising, submitting, or including in a book, and not all of those even end up going places. Still, if you’re drafting one poem a day, you get to the potential good poems faster than you would otherwise. The small percentage of poems that made the cut got put into a separate “for collection” folder.
After that, it was a process of writing and waiting. Not just to accumulate enough poems, but for a structure or theme to emerge. Several concepts bounced around in my head. First, I thought I’d be writing mostly about math and physics. Then, I thought I was going to write about physics and travel, and title it Everything in Transit (a title shamelessly stolen from a Jack’s Mannequin album.) Then, this past October, just after a year of writing and waiting, I developed the idea for a three-part structure, encompassing a few different things I’d been working on. This would allow me to have a unifying concept without feeling tied down to one single thing.
As it stands, the book now has three parts. “Heartways” consists of poems I’ve written on the various incarnations that love takes (aka ways of looking at love). “Wordways” consists of the twenty-six abecedarian sonnets I’ve been working on since September, which are thematically organized around various locations within Texas (not just ways of looking at Texas, but ways of looking at words in the confines of this particular poetry form). And finally, I have “Roadways,” a section focused on travel poems. These are somewhat Texas-based, but less explicitly so than the abecedarian sonnets, and are more concerned with ways of looking at the road than looking at a particular place. The collection title Curved Tongue, Forked Road came to me almost out of the blue, and I like the way it invokes dialogue, exploration, and discovery.
Compared to getting my chapbook together, the rough draft of this collection was, in fact, easier. I didn’t develop my daily poetry practice until a month or two before I finally started getting the chapbook together. I didn’t know as much about revision as I do now. I didn’t have a critique group to help me out. And I certainly didn’t have any idea how to organize a book. Now, I am more disciplined, I have a critique group, and I have some sense of how the poems in a book should work together. While I still have a lot of work to do, having that knowledge made the first draft so much easier.
I have a long road of revision ahead. While a lot of the poems in “Roadways” are actually pretty near complete, the first two sections are much rougher. I’m going to work these poems by myself for a while, and then sometime in the spring of 2013, I want to work with a mentor to help me get the book in final shape for submission. I learned a lot working with a mentor for my chapbook, but I certainly don’t know everything. Plus, a full collection is a different beast from a chapbook.
Ideally, I’d like to have this ready to submit by June of 2013, but I also know I can’t rush the revision process. So I’m setting that as my ideal goal, but I’m also not going to get too attached to it. It will be done when it’s done. As long as I’m giving it the attention it deserves, as long as I’m performing due diligence, that’s what matters.
I know that when all is said and done, the final draft will not look like the current one. Some of the abecedarian sonnets will be rewritten from scratch. Some pieces that are in the first and third sections might get deleted. Poems I haven’t written yet, haven’t even thought of yet, might get slotted in. It will be an interesting journey, and I can’t wait to see what this book looks like when it’s finally done.