CALL FOR POETRY SUBMISSIONS FOR ANTHOLOGYANOTHER DYSFUNCTIONAL CANCER POEM ANTHOLOGY
TO BE PUBLISHED BY MANFIELD PRESS FALL 2018
EDITED BY PRISCILA UPPAL
PLEASE DISTRIBUTE WIDELY
Current statistics predict 1 in 2 people will be diagnosed with cancer in their lifetime. We need more art to understand the complexity and dimensions of what this means.
So please join us in this landmark groundbreaking anthology on the subject of cancer; whether from a patient, survivor, caregiver, loved one, doctor, surgeon, alternative healer, compassionate human being, body part or disease itself point of view.
This anthology aims to offer new ways of seeing, understanding, and representing this ordinary and extraordinary experience; with a full spectrum of emotions spanning the tragic and comic.
We believe the imagination and poetry have their own parts to play in our contemporary healing warehouse. And we invite you to demonstrate this power as we bring together an exciting group of contemporary poems and poets tackling the “c” word in unexpected and affecting ways.
Please send between one and four poems on the topic of cancer in any poetic style/form and from any perspective to dysfunctionalpoems@gmail.com plus a 100-word author bio.
Previously published poems are welcome as long as the author owns the copyright and gives us permission to reprint, and as long as the poem was published after the year 2000.
DEADLINE FOR SUBMISSIONS: NOVEMBER 30TH, 2017
THANK YOU!
on behalf of Priscila Uppal and Mansfield Press
covering ottawa writing, writers, events and publications; curated by rob mclennan,
Monday, September 25, 2017
Friday, September 22, 2017
On Writing #140 : Nicole Brewer
On Writing
Nicole Brewer
I am an inconsistent writer. Literature is my greatest love, but I keep it at a distance sometimes. I’m a very extreme person, and have a tendency to lose myself when I become too invested, so I work hard at maintaining balance in all areas: I work out, but am sure to have rest days; I read, but also make an effort to go out and spend time with people; I write, but also go to bed on time and drink neither coffee nor alcohol.
It’s possible to read that and think I’m on some straight edge high horse (I’m not straight edge), but I actually mention it because, a lot of the time, I feel hugely inadequate as a writer because I try to have a healthy lifestyle. I feel like a phony if I’m working on a story and stop to go to bed before midnight. I feel like a poser because I’m slow, working my writing into bits of time around my life, instead of fitting my life around my writing. I feel like less of a writer for not being dedicated enough, not submitting enough, not wanting it bad enough.
Spending my twenties trying to manage an old eating disorder, depression, minor anxiety, and general low self-esteem has made me careful and choosy: about habits, about routines, about company. I don’t avoid difficult things, but I monitor myself closely when I engage with something I know I can get lost in, and writing can be one of those difficult, losing things.
I prefer reading to writing, honestly. If I have a block of free time and I give myself the choice between reading and writing, I’ll choose reading almost every time. But I’ve started to count reading time as writing time. I’m coming to learn what I want out of being a writer, of writing--it’s not a book, it’s not an audience, it’s not catharsis. It’s just stories. I just want to write good stories, I want to always be writing better stories. I want to be inspired, challenged, and that’s what books do. Books like A Girl is a Half-Formed Thing, like Marianne Apostolides’ Sophrosyne, like the story collections A Manual for Cleaning Women, The Thing Around Your Neck, and How to Get Along With Women, like Anakana Schofield’s Malarky--as I read each of these books, I wrote: reactions, quotations, expansions, responses. And each of these writers carved out a bit of space in my writing nook, to appear in tiny style developments in each new story I write.
I get a lot more enjoyment out of writing now, since I set aside most of the tangible writing goals I “should” have in mind and have started writing just to write. Mostly, I lurk. And sometimes, I write.
Nicole Brewer is a writer, editor, and publisher from Toronto. In early 2014, she co-founded the organization words(on)pages, which supports emerging writers with chapbooks, a literary magazine, and a reading series. Her stories have been published in Canthius, The Hart House Review, untethered, and other journals. She does not have an MFA, and can be found online at nicolebrewerwrites.com.
Nicole Brewer
I am an inconsistent writer. Literature is my greatest love, but I keep it at a distance sometimes. I’m a very extreme person, and have a tendency to lose myself when I become too invested, so I work hard at maintaining balance in all areas: I work out, but am sure to have rest days; I read, but also make an effort to go out and spend time with people; I write, but also go to bed on time and drink neither coffee nor alcohol.
It’s possible to read that and think I’m on some straight edge high horse (I’m not straight edge), but I actually mention it because, a lot of the time, I feel hugely inadequate as a writer because I try to have a healthy lifestyle. I feel like a phony if I’m working on a story and stop to go to bed before midnight. I feel like a poser because I’m slow, working my writing into bits of time around my life, instead of fitting my life around my writing. I feel like less of a writer for not being dedicated enough, not submitting enough, not wanting it bad enough.
Spending my twenties trying to manage an old eating disorder, depression, minor anxiety, and general low self-esteem has made me careful and choosy: about habits, about routines, about company. I don’t avoid difficult things, but I monitor myself closely when I engage with something I know I can get lost in, and writing can be one of those difficult, losing things.
I prefer reading to writing, honestly. If I have a block of free time and I give myself the choice between reading and writing, I’ll choose reading almost every time. But I’ve started to count reading time as writing time. I’m coming to learn what I want out of being a writer, of writing--it’s not a book, it’s not an audience, it’s not catharsis. It’s just stories. I just want to write good stories, I want to always be writing better stories. I want to be inspired, challenged, and that’s what books do. Books like A Girl is a Half-Formed Thing, like Marianne Apostolides’ Sophrosyne, like the story collections A Manual for Cleaning Women, The Thing Around Your Neck, and How to Get Along With Women, like Anakana Schofield’s Malarky--as I read each of these books, I wrote: reactions, quotations, expansions, responses. And each of these writers carved out a bit of space in my writing nook, to appear in tiny style developments in each new story I write.
I get a lot more enjoyment out of writing now, since I set aside most of the tangible writing goals I “should” have in mind and have started writing just to write. Mostly, I lurk. And sometimes, I write.
Nicole Brewer is a writer, editor, and publisher from Toronto. In early 2014, she co-founded the organization words(on)pages, which supports emerging writers with chapbooks, a literary magazine, and a reading series. Her stories have been published in Canthius, The Hart House Review, untethered, and other journals. She does not have an MFA, and can be found online at nicolebrewerwrites.com.
Wednesday, September 20, 2017
The Al Purdy A-Frame Residency : Call for Applications
CALL FOR APPLICATIONS
FOR RESIDENCIES FROM JULY 2018 TO JUNE 2019
NOW OPEN
The A-frame house at
the edge of Roblin Lake was built in 1957 by Al Purdy and his wife Eurithe, who
had set aside $1200 dollars from CBC radio plays Al had written in Montreal.
They bought a piece of land and a load of used buildings material from a
structure being torn down in Belleville, then set to work, building from
architect’s plans ordered from a popular magazine. As Al made clear in his
autobiography, Reaching for the Beaufort
Sea, in the first years they endured fierce cold and poverty and worry.
“But Roblin Lake in summer, planting seeds and watching things grow; doing a
marathon swim across the lake while Eurithe accompanied me in a rowboat;
working at the house, making it grow into something that nearly matched the
structure already in your mind. Owls came by night, whoo-whooing in a row of
cedars above the house; blue herons stalked our shallows; muskrats splashed the
shoreline; and I wrote poems.” At 39 Al was a little known poet, still
publishing what he later decided was bad poetry. He called a book from that
period The Crafte So Long to Lerne.
But he and Eurithe hung on, and in the following years, Al’s poetry took a new
turn and his reputation began to grow. In 1965 he won the Governor-General’s
Award for The Cariboo Horses.
Many of Al Purdy’s best-known poems were written in
Ameliasburgh, a lot of them derived from the history and geography of the
village. He lived in the A-frame house—which was gradually improved and
expanded—for many years, and he spent at least part of every year at
Ameliasburgh until his death in 2000. He and Eurithe were always warm and
welcoming to writers who came to visit, and dozens—some would say hundreds—did. There is surely no house in
Canada so strongly connected with an important poet and his literary community.
The Purdy house is now the site of the A-Frame Residency
Program, under which writers are offered a time and place to work in a location
that is attractive and of historic significance. Each year between mid-April and
mid-November the house will be open for the residency. Writers who are Canadian
citizens or permanent residents may apply for a term of two to twelve weeks.
The residency will be open to all writers, but preference will be given to
poetry and poetry projects. Each year the Selection Committee will also consider
proposals for a one to four week project in critical writing about Canadian
poetry and will be open to unusual and creative ideas for residencies.
While the primary aim of the
A-Frame is to provide writers with time and space to concentrate on their
projects, the residency also gives them the opportunity to interact with the
community. As part of the residency plan writers are encouraged to develop a community-based project. Such projects
should provide the opportunity for writers to interact with the local community
but should not require more than one or two days of the writer’s time over a
four-week period. Katherine Leyton’s project was How Pedestrian. Katherine
travelled the community with a video camera and asked people to read Purdy
poems. She also had friends and other writers visit, and recorded their readings.
The recordings were posted to her blog and a final performance was held in
Rednersville at Active Arts Studio.
One possibility would be to invite other writers and
artists to visit, develop a performance event that could be staged at the
Townhall in Ameliasbugh. Writers are encouraged to be innovative about the
community project aspect of the application.
Travel to Ameliasburgh
will be paid.[1]
Those awarded the residency will be given a stipend of $650 dollars ($500
honorarium and $150 travel) a week[2] while
living in the A-frame, and will be free to spend their time on their writing.
Residents will be expected to participate in one public event for each four
weeks of their stay, or complete a community-based project as noted above—the
event could be a reading, lecture, workshop, an event in a local school or some
other literary activity—and to consider other reasonable requests. These events
will take place in one of the larger communities nearby, Picton, Belleville,
Kingston. Residents will be offered a temporary library card for the excellent
library at Queen’s University in Kingston, where many of Al Purdy’s papers are
held. Those awarded a residency will be asked to donate at least one copy of
one of their books to the Residency Library at the A-frame. Writers in
residence will also be encouraged to make themselves known at the Purdy Library
in Ameliasburgh and to donate a book. They may also wish to discuss with the
local liaison the possibility of working with local schools.
Applications should include:
A brief professional
curriculum vitae (max. 2 pages)
A plan for your residency at the A-frame (max. 2 pages)
A letter of reference
(if desired by the candidate)
A 10-20 page sample of
recent writing.
Community-based
project, if one is being proposed (1 page)
Applications should
consider “Why the A-frame?” and “Why now?”
Successful applications
will be asked to submit a grant proposal to the Canada Council for the Arts for
matched funding for the residency, and travel expenses. A final report is due three
to six months after the residency is complete.
Applicants should
propose alternate residency dates if possible.
Five hard copies of the
application and the accompanying material should be sent to:
Jean Baird
The Al Purdy A-frame
Association
4542 West 10th
Ave.,
Vancouver BC V6R 2J1
Electronic copies of the same
files should be emailed to jeanbaird@shaw.ca. Please send one email with all documents and a
subject line that includes your name and “2018 residency application.”
Any questions can be
addressed to jeanbaird@shaw.ca
Applications for residencies
from July 2018 to end of June 2019 will close on October 20, 2017—mailed materials
must be postmarked October 20, 2017 or before. Electronic copies must be
received by 4 p.m PT. If you wait until the last day—October 20, 2017—to mail
your hard copies please send by courier.
Thursday, September 07, 2017
On Writing #139 : Dennis James Sweeney
On Staring, Obsessing,
Getting Stuck
Dennis James Sweeney
For a long time I was nothing if not disciplined, partially
due to the fact that people give me a lot of writing manuals. They all
said: write, keep writing, and after that continue to write. It's the only way
to get good. Or Malcolm Gladwell: 10,000 hours. I heard what they were saying.
Grace and inspiration do not substitute for regular sessions of hard, attentive
work.
I
am still disciplined. I still make the hours to sit down and write. But I used
to make words that entire time, type and type and type. I would end up with
book manuscripts, piles of short stories I didn't know what to do with. At
first, I sent them all out. (I apologize to the editors.) I revised these
stories and books, I was serious about them, but they lacked something. I
wasn't obsessing. I wasn't driving myself crazy. I was treating the writing
like a product, which needs a certain amount of work and is done.
In
other words, I didn't care. I cared; I wrote the story, I got inside its
characters, I worked on every sentence and every line. But I didn't care so
much that I would walk twenty miles barefoot through the snow to bring it to an
editor's door. I took the manuals' advice about rejections too. When something
got rejected, I shrugged. There was plenty more writing where that came from.
In
the last year or so I have begun to understand the importance of waiting with a
piece. Of considering it, reconsidering it, obsessing over it, allowing it
cycles of staleness and freshness and hopelessness and resurrection. The
writing of mine that I am most excited about is the writing that I have simply
stared at for a long time, doing little aside from invest it with a kind of
psychic energy. Not much changes on the page. A comma, move this section after
that. But I feel an intentionality build in the pieces I spend this kind of
time with, a solidness that earlier work didn't have.
When these manuscripts
are rejected, I have trouble taking it in stride. Emotional investment, as it
turns out, causes pain.
The
easy thing would be to say that this pain is worth it, given the associated joys.
I'm not sure this is the case. I would be a better, happier person if I didn't
feel the need to write. But I do, and in responding to that need I have to
remind myself over and over that there is something more than typing and
revising, a spirit hovering between and around those two processes and buoying
them. I've heard other writers say not-writing is a form of writing. Gestation
is part of the process. But having written, and staying stuck to what's
written, is another form of writing I wish I'd known about earlier on. It's
unhealthy, not nearly as Buddhist as I strive to be, but that stuckness often
feels like a saving grace. With it, the writing ferments. It begins to become
something.
Dennis James Sweeney's hybrid fictions have appeared in The Collagist, Crazyhorse, Five Points, Indiana Review, and Passages North, among others. He is the Small Press Editor of Entropy, the recipient of an MFA from Oregon State University, and a recent Fulbright fellow in Malta. Originally from Cincinnati, he lives in Colorado, where he is a PhD student in creative writing at the University of Denver.
Monday, September 04, 2017
William Pittman Lett : POETS’ PATHWAY PLAQUE UNVEILING and POETRY READING, Sept 9, 2017
POETS’ PATHWAY PLAQUE UNVEILING
for William Pittman Lett (1819-1892)
and POETRY READING
September 9, 2017 : 12:30pm
James Bartleman Archives and Library Materials Centre
100 Tallwood Drive, at Woodroffe Avenue, Ottawa
SPEAKERS
Mayor Jim Watson, Councillor Rick Chiarelli, Centrepointe Community Association President Ron Benn, William Pittman Lett III, Ottawa Chief Archivist Paul Henry and Ottawa City Clerk Rick O’Connor
POETS
Poet Laureate George Elliott Clarke
Ottawa Poet Laureate Andrée Lacelle
Ottawa Poet Laureate Jamaal Jackson Rogers
Susan McMaster
Armand Garnet Ruffo
Friday, September 01, 2017
We Who Are About To Die : O Mayeux
O Mayeux (http://4f4d.xyz) is an artist and linguist.
Where are you now?
a monastery on Lesbos, island home of Sappho
What are you reading?
last night: The Adults in the Room by Yannis Varoufakis
this morning: Anne Carson's translations of the Sappho fragments ; Julian Talamantez Brolaski's 'Of Mongrelitude' ; poetry-in-progress by my partners-in-crime Tanner Menard (https://tannermenard-blog.tumblr.com/) and Jack Westmore. we send each other fresh poems most days.
What have you discovered lately?
a secret spot to stargaze with just the sounds of grass
Where do you write?
in my mind ; a desk in the sun ; old receipts ; phone ; notebook beside the bed (for dreamt poetry)
What are you working on?
putting the finishing touches to a chapbook of poems in English and Louisiana Creole, an endangered language which is the topic of my doctoral research and also my own heritage language
Have you anything forthcoming?
a couple of poems, including one in 'Strange Horizons'. it's very exciting to be published in a journal you have been reading for a long time. speculative/sci-fi/fantasy poetry is seducing me and more and more every day. i am also thrilled that my first full-length collection--'Artefacts', a computer-generated asemic cycle--will be published this autumn by Michael Jacobson's Post-Asemic Press (http://postasemicpress.blogspot.co.uk/).
What would you rather be doing?
really couldn't think of anything at all
TWO POEMS
SEVERAL MOVED COLOR
40°38′13.4292" N
74°4′36.84" W
A several moved color, wrestled
to the ground color and taken ri
ghtly tightly at the neck with grip
At this moment cervically an interr
uption: gentle convex-forward arch
jugularly decided violently garroted
As if by law a just complete occlusion
of the carotid arteries, call up skyward,
remembrance of the market at Badagry
Appeal to authority that it might descend
and find a sense when callous shades cut
at each other: urbanized, raw & jealously
Attack attack attack the walls and raise
the bloodied flag, the flag which looks
down starry-eyed from high as a kite
Allow streets to heave with sweaty
misunderstood or bad-mannered
bodies to rut against the Column
Where are you now?
a monastery on Lesbos, island home of Sappho
What are you reading?
last night: The Adults in the Room by Yannis Varoufakis
this morning: Anne Carson's translations of the Sappho fragments ; Julian Talamantez Brolaski's 'Of Mongrelitude' ; poetry-in-progress by my partners-in-crime Tanner Menard (https://tannermenard-blog.tumblr.com/) and Jack Westmore. we send each other fresh poems most days.
What have you discovered lately?
a secret spot to stargaze with just the sounds of grass
Where do you write?
in my mind ; a desk in the sun ; old receipts ; phone ; notebook beside the bed (for dreamt poetry)
What are you working on?
putting the finishing touches to a chapbook of poems in English and Louisiana Creole, an endangered language which is the topic of my doctoral research and also my own heritage language
Have you anything forthcoming?
a couple of poems, including one in 'Strange Horizons'. it's very exciting to be published in a journal you have been reading for a long time. speculative/sci-fi/fantasy poetry is seducing me and more and more every day. i am also thrilled that my first full-length collection--'Artefacts', a computer-generated asemic cycle--will be published this autumn by Michael Jacobson's Post-Asemic Press (http://postasemicpress.blogspot.co.uk/).
What would you rather be doing?
really couldn't think of anything at all
TWO POEMS
SEVERAL MOVED COLOR
40°38′13.4292" N
74°4′36.84" W
A several moved color, wrestled
to the ground color and taken ri
ghtly tightly at the neck with grip
At this moment cervically an interr
uption: gentle convex-forward arch
jugularly decided violently garroted
As if by law a just complete occlusion
of the carotid arteries, call up skyward,
remembrance of the market at Badagry
Appeal to authority that it might descend
and find a sense when callous shades cut
at each other: urbanized, raw & jealously
Attack attack attack the walls and raise
the bloodied flag, the flag which looks
down starry-eyed from high as a kite
Allow streets to heave with sweaty
misunderstood or bad-mannered
bodies to rut against the Column
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