The Voice

2.10.21

“Is this a voice that I can sustain throughout this novel? Will it continue to be, and also most importantly, can it sustain my curiosity?” asks Chang-rae Lee when discussing how he developed the characters of his latest novel, My Year Abroad (Riverhead Books, 2021), in a virtual event for the Asian American Writers’ Workshop. “You don’t want a voice that’s absolutely the same throughout.” Write a story from the perspective of one speaker that shows the character changing through their voice. Focus on how your character sees the world in order to show their evolution.

The Role of Poetry in Your City

In my last post, I reflected on the ways writing can unite us wherever we live, and I’d like to continue that thread a bit more.

One recent example of how writing can unite us is Amanda Gorman’s poem “The Hill We Climb,” which she read at the presidential inauguration of Joe Biden last month. Gorman is the youngest inaugural poet at 22 years old, and the first youth poet laureate of the United States. She also received a Barnes & Noble Writers for Writers Award from Poets & Writers in 2020. Gorman’s reading was widely shared, and it’s likely you’ve come across it on your own social media feed. In fact, it was so popular that this past Sunday, Gorman became the first poet to perform at the Super Bowl.

The attention on Gorman’s poem got me thinking about how poetry can make us feel engaged in the world politically, socially, and spiritually. I believe poetry offers each of us different meaning and purpose. For youth, poetry can provide a seat at the table in an adult world that impacts them. For women and people of color, poetry can provide a space to empower their voice and take agency against systems of oppression.

I also thought about the role poets laureate, like Amanda Gorman, serve in public and the amazing work they do in their cities and states. Two previous Louisiana poets laureate, Peter Cooley and Brenda Marie Osbey, were kind enough to share their experiences with me for this blog.

Poets in New Orleans (and across Louisiana), you should know that the Louisiana Endowment for the Humanities is currently seeking nominations from the public for the state’s next poet laureate, and you can submit recommendations now through February 24.

If you were selected as the next poet laureate of Louisiana, what role might you take? How would you use poetry to cultivate community and conversation?

Kelly Harris is the literary outreach coordinator for Poets & Writers in New Orleans. Contact her at NOLA@pw.org or on Twitter, @NOLApworg.

Metonymy

In an essay published on Literary Hub, Urvi Kumbhat writes about the use of the mango in diasporic literature, asserting that it “rests uneasily between symbol and sumptuous fruit.” Kumbhat begins by exploring her memories of eating mango in Calcutta, and how “in the global South Asian cultural and literary lexicon, the fruit is a metonym for the home country,” but also discusses why she has avoided using the fruit in her writing for fear of “self-exoticization and unoriginality.” What serves as a metonym for the place you call home? Write a poem about your chosen symbol that embraces, as well as complicates, what it represents.

Upcoming Contest Deadlines

It is fitting that during the most romantic month of the year, contest opportunities abound for poets! With deadlines of either February 14 or February 15, these awards include opportunities for both English language poetry and poetry in translation. There are also two contests for prose writers. All offer a cash prize of $1,000 or more.

Academy of American Poets Ambroggio Prize: A prize of $1,000 and publication by University of Arizona Press is given annually for a book of poetry originally written in Spanish by a living writer and translated into English. The poet and translator will split the prize. Rigoberto González will judge. Deadline: February 15. Entry fee: none.

Academy of American Poets Harold Morton Landon Translation Award: A prize of $1,000 is given annually for a book of poetry translated from any language into English and published in the United States during the previous year. Indran Amirthanayagam will judge. Deadline: February 15. Entry fee: none.

Academy of American Poets Raiziss/De Palchi Fellowship: A fellowship of $25,000 is given biennially for the translation into English of a work of modern Italian poetry. Moira Egan, Rebecca Falkoff, and Graziella Sidoli will judge. Deadline: February 15. Entry fee: none.

Arrowsmith Press Derek Walcott Prize for Poetry: A prize of $1,000 will be given annually for a poetry collection published in English by a writer who is not a resident of the United States. The winner will also receive an invitation to read at the Boston Playwrights’ Theatre in Boston; a one-week residency at poet Derek Walcott’s home in St. Lucia or in Port-of-Spain, Trinidad, in conjunction with the annual Walcott Festival; and the publication of a limited-edition broadside of their work by Arrowsmith Press. Poets who are living in the United States as green card holders are eligible. Poets whose work appears in translation into English are also eligible. Major Jackson will judge. Deadline: February 15. Entry fee: $20.

Hippocrates Prizes for Poetry and Medicine: A prize of £1,000 (approximately $1,260) and publication in the Hippocrates Prize anthology and on the Hippocrates website is given annually for a single poem on a medical theme. A prize of £1,000 (approximately $1,260) and publication in the Hippocrates Prize anthology and on the website is also given for a single poem on a medical theme written by a health professional. Anne Barnard, Keki N. Daruwalla, Anna Jackson, and Neena Modi will judge. Deadline: February 14. Entry fee: $10 ($15 for postal submissions).

Milkweed Editions Ballard Spahr Prize for Poetry: A prize of $10,000 and publication by Milkweed Editions is given annually for a poetry collection by a poet currently residing in Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, North Dakota, South Dakota, or Wisconsin. Deadline: February 15. Entry fee: none.

Sarabande Books Morton and McCarthy Prizes: Two prizes of $2,000 each and publication by Sarabande Books are given annually for collections of poetry and fiction. Victoria Chang will judge in poetry and Danielle Evans will judge in fiction. Deadline: February 15. Entry fee: $29.

Salem State University Claire Keyes Poetry Award: A prize of $1,000 and publication in Soundings East is given annually for a group of poems. Afaa Michael Weaver will judge. Deadline: February 15. Entry fee: $10 (or $15 to receive a copy of the magazine).

Syracuse University Press Veterans Writing Award: A prize of $1,000 and publication by Syracuse University Press is given biennially for a novel or short story collection by a U.S. veteran, active duty personnel in any branch of the U.S. military, or the immediate family member of a veteran or active duty personnel. Phil Klay will judge. Deadline: February 15. Entry fee: none.

Visit the contest websites for complete guidelines, and check out the Grants & Awards database and Submission Calendar for more contests in poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction.

Pillow Book

“The process of writing prose can intimidate even the most seasoned poets,” writes Khadijah Queen in the latest installment of Craft Capsules. “Using the zuihitsu form provided just the open space I needed.” In the essay, Queen argues that having a form as flexible as the zuihitsu, a Japanese form of hybrid poem-essay invented by Sei Shōnagon in the eleventh century, allows for lyricism to be maintained across a longer prose piece, in which patterns of image and sound can keep a narrative going. Write an essay inspired by the zuihitsu form, beginning with a simple observation and building that image with textures of rich poetic fragments.

Disappearing

The Memory Police (Pantheon, 2019) by Yoko Ogawa, translated from the Japanese by Stephen Snyder, opens poignantly with the main conceit of this dystopian novel—that commonplace objects begin to disappear. “I sometimes wonder what was disappeared first—among all the things that have vanished from the island.” From the use of the passive voice in “was disappeared” to the intimacy behind the doubt in the first person narrator’s memories, Ogawa provides tension, a setting, and tone from this first sentence. Write the first five hundred words for your own Orwellian story or novel that establishes the new rules for an alternate reality, in which things are not as they appear.

COVID Vivid Interview: Robin Davidson

Hey mi gente, happy February. I’m happy to share with you more reflections from Houston writers about how they have been spending their time during the COVID-19 pandemic. Each writer has answered this simple question:

What have you been doing since the pandemic?

This week, we hear from Robin Davidson. Davidson is the author of two poetry chapbooks, Kneeling in the Dojo (Finishing Line Press, 2013) and City That Ripens on the Tree of the World (Calypso Editions, 2013), and the collection, Luminous Other, awarded the Ashland Poetry Press’s 2012 Richard Snyder Memorial Publication Prize. Recipient of a Fulbright professorship at the Jagiellonian University in Kraków, Poland and an NEA translation fellowship, Davidson is cotranslator with Ewa Elżbieta Nowakowska of Ewa Lipska’s poems from the Polish—The New Century (Northwestern University Press, 2009) and Dear Ms. Schubert (Princeton University Press, 2021). Davidson served as Houston poet laureate under the leadership of mayors Annise Parker and Sylvester Turner from 2015 to 2017, and edited the citywide 2018 anthology, Houston’s Favorite Poems. She was inducted into the Texas Institute of Letters in 2019, and teaches literature and creative writing as professor emeritus of English for the University of Houston-Downtown.

Here’s what she had to say:

“In the early hours of March 11, 2020, I woke to intense chills, fever, nausea, and the beginning of what would become three weeks of a flu-like illness more severe than I’d ever before experienced. I was bedridden for most of that time, with a persistent fever of 103 to 104, and for days Sappho’s line resonated in my thoughts, I feel that death has come near me. There was no COVID testing in Houston then, and my doctor believed I likely had contracted a flu, despite the vaccine I’d had weeks earlier. My husband, too, experienced some of these symptoms, though far milder, and we did not sleep in the same room for two weeks after forty-four years of sharing a bed nightly, except when one of us was traveling. We did not see any of our children or grandchildren for more than two months, and I thought I would die of grief in their absence, rather than of some unnameable disease. The morning I woke to the weight of an icy hand pressing down hard on my chest, I recognized the signs of pneumonia. I prayed, willed that hand away, and decided to get up and move, no matter if I stumbled, couldn’t entirely stand. In the weeks that followed I saw friends and family members lose loved ones to COVID, loved ones they could not sit with in their illness, nor bury upon their death. I tried to read, to write. Nothing worked, except for sorting through photographs of my grandsons which I’d print, cut out, and glue into a tiny scrapbook for each of them to have in our absence. My husband and I have recovered slowly over the course of ten months, with intermittent symptoms recurring like mild sequelae. We only learned for certain in late summer that we had had COVID when our antibodies tests showed positive results for SARS-CoV-2. As I’ve watched this virus sweep through our nation and the world, I recognize how minor my family’s experience has been compared to the great suffering of so many others. I wrote this piece initially on the eve of one of the most critical presidential elections in the history of the United States. As of that morning, November 2, 2020, the U.S. reported 9,282,358 confirmed cases of the coronavirus and 230,937 deaths. Since January, Americans have seen that death toll surpass 450,000. We have seen an insurrection play out in our nation’s Capitol Building in which violent extremists attempted a governmental coup. But we have also witnessed the successful election and inauguration of president Joseph Biden and vice president Kamala Harris as a powerful step on behalf of a renewed democracy. This nation has some distance to go in combatting the COVID pandemic, systemic racism and its concomitant violence, extreme climate, economic crisis, and global unrest, but the future looks far brighter this month than it has in the past four years. May we continue to choose well.”

Photo: Robin Davidson (Credit: Robin Davidson).
 
Lupe Mendez is the literary outreach coordinator for Poets & Writers in Houston. Contact him at Houston@pw.org or on Twitter, @houstonpworg.

Snow Day

In Mary Ruefle’s poem “Snow” from her book The Most of It (Wave Books, 2007), she starts with a simple sentiment: “Every time it starts to snow, I would like to have sex.” From that line, the reader is welcomed into a series of meditations on sex, devotion, birds, and love. The poem takes the form of a column with several enjambed lines as if the prose text were confined into a narrow space the way one may feel while stuck inside on a snow day. Write a poem in a conversational manner that describes how you are affected by certain types of weather. What is the first thing that comes to mind when you look out the window?

Four Prizes for LGBTQ Writers from Lambda Literary

Submissions are open for four prizes administered by Lambda Literary, including the inaugural Randall Kenan Prize for Black LGBTQ Fiction. Founded in memory of author Randall Kenan, who died last year at age fifty-seven, the prize will award $3,000 to a Black LGBTQ writer, “whose fiction explores themes of Black LGBTQ life, culture, and/or history.” Meanwhile, this year’s Jim Duggins Outstanding Mid-Career Novelists’ Prize will award two writers $5,000 each; the Jeanne Córdova Prize for Lesbian/Queer Nonfiction will award one writer $2,500; and the Judith A. Markowitz Award for Emerging LGBTQ Writers will grant two writers $1,000 each.

Using only the online submission system, submit to any of the four prizes by February 15. All applications require a cover letter, a curriculum vitae or résumé, and at least one writing sample. Each contest has different eligibility requirements; for example, writers submitting to the Randall Kenan Prize must have published at least one book of fiction. Visit the website for complete guidelines, including descriptions of the body of work required for eligibility for each prize. None of the contests require an entry fee.

Lambda Literary is a nonprofit that “nurtures and advocates for LGBTQ writers,” and is home to the Lambda Literary Awards, or “Lammys,” which honor the best LGBTQ books of the year. Lambda also runs a writer’s retreat and a program that brings queer and trans writers into schools to meet with young readers.

Foraging

1.28.21

In an excerpt published on Literary Hub of a narrated essay by Tristan McConnell for the Emergence Magazine podcast, he writes about visiting the shrinking mountain forests surrounding Mount Kenya with Joseph Mbaya, who along with other foragers seeks to restore the ancient medicinal knowledge behind various species of plants and roots. Among “cedar and yellowwood, rosewood and water-berry,” Myaba “finds treatments for arthritis, prostate cancer, toothaches, ear infections, upset stomach, indigestion, and even pungent wind,” writes McConnell. Write an essay about a time you communed with nature and found knowledge in that encounter. Did the experience affect how you view your relationship with nature?

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