I'm Filling Time

Lately I have been reading wikipedia pages about the human heart. I've learned about the four different chambers, the inferior and superior vena cava, the walls that separate sections. Sometimes I clench my left hand into a fist just so I can image the size. It's smaller than I imagine, the heart.

I recently put together my thesis manuscript into one document. I've had the poems, the introduction, the bibliography, the sections - all of these were in separate files on my computer. But this week I copied and pasted them all into one big file, formatted section numbers, adjusted margins, created a table of contents. It felt good to print it out and hand the draft to my director. I'm almost there.

After I got all the poems in one document, I copied the poem text into this text analysis software, which then sorts your words in a big list by how frequently they appear. This has been invaluable in terms of me having documented evidence of my obsessions. The word body appears in my thesis nineteen times. Then, the words hair, hands, eyes, skin and heart all appear seventeen times each. Spider shows up nine times. Vibrator twice. Ten palms, nine teeth, seven kitchens, seven blues. I have a document open always where I jot down title ideas. I am enjoying this ongoing process of information gathering. Maybe I should call it Ten Palms, Nine Teeth. Or Nineteen Bodies. Let me get those two on my list real quick...

Other recent accomplishments include my issue of Caper Literary Journal being posted this week. I guest edited a small selection of five awesome poems and one awesome short story for March. I had so much fun soliciting work from awesome writers I know. Something magical happened with this process actually; fascinating themes emerged dealing with creation, mythology, death, rebirth, retelling, bodies and magic. It's a magical collection. I am very proud to make public their work.

Additionally, this morning my poem "One Million Cow Eyes" was accepted by the new Adanna Literary Journal. Founded by Christine Redman-Waldeyer and guest-edited by Diane Lockward. I'm excited and honored to be included in the inaugural issue of this awesome feminist journal. This poem is about the animal scientist Temple Grandin who is also a high functioning autistic person. She's an especially amazing person and I recommend learning more about her life and accomplishments.

Other than these things, I'm mostly soaking up spring and time with my family. California feels closer and closer and before long I'll be on a plane headed toward The Bay. I went to the shooting range with my dad for the first time yesterday and nothing terrible happened. In fact, I got to know myself and my father a little bit better. So I'd say it was a day well spent.

Check out Laura's List of Awesome!

I love both projects and list-making. I approach everything like a project, even things that just seem like "work" or monotony. In tribute to my two loves, I will start the first of a series of posts called the "Laura's List of Awesome" or something like that. Here are my latest, in no particular order, except for coming to my mind in thusly:

• My manuscript
• Submitting my chapbook manuscript to contests
• Sending out poems to journals
• Weave's 6th issue
• Weave reading & collaborations
• Interview with editors
• Write intro for next Weave
• CLJ Guest Editing
• Transfer Teaching Certification
• Job Applications
• Yoga
• Scavenger Hunt
• Write another sestina
• Write a villanelle
• Words & Beats Reading
• MFA Prom
• 2010 Taxes
• Rereading The Giver
• Teaching The Giver
• Class Event at work
• 100 other things I forgot

Oh boy! I Heart Lists! Here is a picture of the San Francisco Chinese New Year Parade from atop a big hill.

I'm Still In Love

I've never really had a problem with Valentine's Day. I spent a lot of years heartbroken on February 14th and still, I've never really felt bitter about a celebrating a day for love. I do have cause to though. Both of my high school boyfriends broke up with me shortly before Valentine's Day. One dumped me on Groundhogs day and subsequently for a couple of years I harbored ill-will against all woodchucks. Since that first heartache fifteen years ago (wow, I love that I have been falling in love for fifteen years!), I still managed to keep my optimism and I really have family to thank for that. One family member in particular was always my Valentine and always will be. My grandpa.

Lloyd and I were pals since the day I was born. We fell in love that day and that was that. We were solid. I knew he had my back and I had his, even as a newborn. It took me a while to learn this, but I had the power to melt this tough Italian man with a simple smile.

I never took advantage of my power of him. Well, maybe sometimes, when I was home sick from school and I really wanted a McDonald's Happy Meal (the cure-all for 'I-don't-want-to-go-to-school-itis'). We spent countless hours driving in his old gray Chevy pick-up truck. He was always whistling or humming or singing something. He used to walk my brother's and I to the bus stop. We helped his farmer friends sell their corn on the road side. He told us stories about how he and his siblings would get oranges for Christmas. He loved fruit. On Valentine's Day, he bought me candy hearts. I loved the mixture of sweets and words. He was there for me. He and I loved unconditionally.

This is a strange and wonderful kind of love. It sets the bar to an almost impossible high. Having loved and been loved unconditionally, it set me up for some serious heartache in my teens and twenties. Many of the people I dated felt I was too intense, too emotional, too attached. I realize now that they did not recognize my fervor. It took me a long time to realize how unusual it was share this kind of love.

It wasn't all hugs and candy hearts. There were tensions with my grandpa and I. It was difficult to form an adult relationship with him. His fondest memories were from my childhood. He saw me grow and get married, and then get divorced. His dreams of becoming a great-grandfather were put on hold. He was old-fashioned. Didn't I want a family like mine? He didn't want me to leave Pittsburgh. Why would I leave? My family is in Pittsburgh.

When my grandpa died last December, it really shook me. I had been mentally preparing myself for a decade, since he'd been sick for that long. But you can't really prepare. You can't know what it's like to watch your family all simultaneously want to curl up and be alone. Especially a family that is normally so extroverted, so inclined to be together. You can't know what it will be like to watch your grandmother mourn the loss of her partner of 63 years. But also, I was surprised by how life has to continue. He died during my finals week of my first semester in graduate school. While I got extensions for all my assignments, after the funeral I was relieved to have something to keep me busy. Something to help distract me from this loss.

This morning I woke up thinking about my grandpa. I saw an orange on my desk. It started me thinking about how he was instrumental in my becoming a poet. I have always had poetry inside of me. But having loved and been loved unconditionally, I know about living life with passion. The notion that art is about suffering is false. Life includes suffering, always. There are times when we will find ourselves on the ground, without words, drained of life's poetry. But like love, poetry is a way to survive that suffering. A way to celebrate our continued survival. To celebrate our thriving. Poetry causes us to pay close attention, to value every word, every minute, every song. My grandfather taught me how to be in love. Poetry taught me how to crawl my way back toward that love. We must crawl back to it. This poet is building bridges toward an unconditional love with each poem, stanza, line, word, letter.

AWP Wrap-Up and What's Up Next

AWP was amazing. This was only my second time attending, but it was far superior to my first time around. I was more experienced as a tabler, I made it to the panels I really wanted to see, I enjoyed meeting contributors, and all around I felt more connected. Weave did well too. We sold a bunch of the new issue as well as back issues. We also got the word out to people who hadn't heard of us yet and hopefully forged some new connections with other editors for ad swaps and other collaborations.

Once again, I'm reading this Friday at 7pm at Word Circus. I'm going to read some material from my new manuscript, and maybe some old favorites as well. It would be great to see you there. Click on the flyer below to RSVP to the Facebook invitation!

News News News

I've been busily preparing for February and it's finally here. I leave for Washington D.C. on the Megabus tomorrow. In theory, I'm going to be very productive on the way down, since the bus has WIFI. I have a presentation next week, plus an event next Friday. Who knows what might happen though.

Weave's reading period just ended and we have a record number of submissions: 491 total! That is way above our average of 350 for the past few issues. I'm constantly impressed with the quality of the submissions we are getting and I'm really looking forward to shaping this new issue. I can't wait until I have some real time to get in there and readreadread.

The AWP Conference is really coming together this year. Weave and A cappella Zoo have a table at the book fair, I'm presenting at the pedagogy forums on Friday morning, and so many friends will be attending. I'm also looking forward to meeting some online poet-friends, especially Lisa Marie Basille and Sally Rosen Kindred. I love that the internet lets us develop friendships long distance. It really shifts our thinking about community and mentoring and collaboration. It can all be done long distance. So wonderful.

I recently had my poem "Missing" accepted and published (both within a week's time) at Glass: A Journal of Poetry. This was a happy surprise for me, since I had stopped sending this poem out to journals. I'm really glad it found out a home. 

Finally, I will be reading some poems from my currently untitled manuscript at Word Circus next Friday, February 11th at Most Wanted Fine Art Gallery. It starts at 7pm and will include food, poetry, fiction, artwork and wine. I even have some watercolors in the show (picture below)! It will be a great time. Definitely stop by.

 "Self-Portraits" by Laura E. Davis

PS: I have a website! I'm all official n'at.

Poetry, Women and Community

Forgive me if I wander into gender stereotypes in this post. I have had a convergence of experiences that have me thinking about women, poetry and community.

Yesterday I read the New York Times book review of Cinderella Ate My Daughter by Peggy Orenstein. The book is full of thoughtful commentary about the so-called "princess phase" that many tween girls go through. I spend a lot time thinking about children and gender identity and gender roles. Children's toys are very gendered. If you wander into any toy aisle you can clearly tell where the store and the toymakers have placed the girl's toys (the hot pink aisle full of dolls and dresses) and the boy's toys (the dark blue aisle with blocks and guns). I worry about the gendering of play and how that affects us later in life. If I had been encouraged to play with blocks and trucks more, would I have been an engineer? If video games had been more gender-neutral, would I have followed my love of technology into a career?

On Friday I was in a small used bookshop looking in their poetry section. I was reminded of the history of poetry as a "man's world" as I had to really look to find books written by women. I forget this fact sometimes.

This morning I read this article about the "poetic renaissance" currently happening in Britain. Right now, there are three high profile poets that have made strides to get people talking about poetry. It just so happens that all three of these poets are women. They spoke about how the poetry community is still shaped like a grassroots movement with little competition. The article also brought to mind the idea that perhaps the feminine poetic voice was lacking, since Carol Ann Duffy is the UK's first female poet laureate in 340 years.

These convergences got me thinking about feminism. This is a word I use often. I read publications like Bitch and make/shift. I watch movies and television that have strong female characters. I have strong women in my life. My mother used the word feminism often, regardless of the fact that she was a homemaker. That was her choice. She later taught herself to use the computer and reentered the work force in her 40s. My 83 year-old grandmother, recently widowed, got a part time job where uses the computer regularly. I was a Girl Scout through high school. My closest friends are women. A majority of the poets and artists I know are women. I read mostly female poets. I run a feminist literary magazine. I am getting my MFA from Chatham, whose undergrad programs are still women only. Feminism has been normalized for me. So when I read about these gender issues, I have to say I'm more than a little biased toward surprise.

These past two years I have really come to understand the importance of writing and community. I have developed friendships within the local literary community and beyond and it has made all the difference in my writing. The workshop method is based on this principle. Writing should not exist in a vacuum. Ideas should be shared and tested, refined and shaped. Mentors and teachers should foster creativity and growth in their students.

As I have wandered through these thoughts, I can't help but wonder if my experiences with the power of community and poetry have been influenced by my feminism. By that I mean, do I have this community because women tend form supportive, non-competitive communities based on my mutual growth? Is my experience this strange phenomenon that won't hold true outside of my current community? Clearly, men can be good at building communities too and I realize I'm generalizing. But I have heard this from other writers too. A poet that we published in the first issue of Weave said she had resigned herself to competing in the poetic world against the poet stereotype of old men with long white beards writing about the fields and birds. When we solicited her for a submission and then invited her to read, she commented on how wonderful it was to find such a strong community of women. Her experiences have not been my own. I can't know whether her experiences are biased in the other direction. Perhaps there is more of a middle ground.

And perhaps it is what you make it. Maybe whatever community I belong to in the future will be the one I create. Maybe it will include more men. Who knows what San Francisco will bring? Perhaps the LGBT community will influence my literary community in ways I can't predict (since I'll be living about 100 feet from the Castro). Perhaps I will have a larger age-range of poets. Maybe I will find a mentor that is younger than me. Who knows?

Year in Review: 2010's Submissions, Rejections and Acceptances

Last year was a big year for me publication-wise. I had been submitting work to journals for a couple years, but to no avail. Looking back, I realize I wasn't submitting very aggressively. However, my first publication came last year in April and then exploded from there. While I'm not one who likes to brag, I think it's important to acknowledge personal and professional growth and feel good about our accomplishments. First I will highlight my acceptances for the year, then discuss my submissions stats.

My first publication came in February; my poem "My Hyacinth Girl" was accepted by Coal Hill Review, the online journal and press run by local publisher Autumn House. This felt like a weight had been lifted. I kept getting wonderful feedback from friends and mentors and others were shocked to find out I was not yet published. I am very happy with it finding a home at CHR.

Next my poem "Lessons in Aging and Agriculture" was published in Rougarou, an online journal for the University of Louisiana Lafayette. The acceptance came in May and it was published in the fall. I felt like I really targeted this submission well because this poem just fits perfectly with Rougarou's aesthetic.

Then I had the best week ever this past August, where I had six poems accepted in four publications. The emails came in this order:

August 10: "Upon Realizing I Am Filled With One Million Poems and Blame" were accepted in OVS Mag
August 14: "On Rainy Nights I Dream I Am Pregnant," and "Upon Realizing Men Could See Through My White Skirt" were accepted by Radioactive Moat
August 14: "Dear Outer Space" was accepted by Pear Noir! (my first print publication!)
August 16: "From Scratch" was accepted by dotdotdash (another print pub!)

That was the craziest week ever. I was sending so many withdrawal emails and I even had a couple journals contact me to accept poems I'd withdrawn. I felt bad about them not getting my email, but I usually turn that around to send a journal more poems quickly.

Then months passed without an acceptance. Many, MANY rejections, including one that really strung me along and eventually still rejected me. Then late November, my poem "First Laugh" was accepted by Redactions and shortly after "The Vicenarian or My Twenties So Far" was accepted by The Splinter Generation. The latter asked for some major edits which was a first for me. However, after working with the editor, I realize the poem is MUCH stronger now.

My year ended well with two poems getting picked up on New Year's Eve. Caper Literary Journal published "Where We'd Be" and "Upon Exiting Childhood" just a week or so ago.

So to summarize, in 2010 I had twelve poems published in nine journals. Since then I also had another few poems accepted, but that's for another blog post reflecting on 2011.

After looking over my total submissions that I sent out in 2010, I have discovered my stats are pretty darn good. I sent out 48 submissions last year, many to the same journals more than once because they encouraged me to resubmit.  I analyzed my ridiculous spreadsheet this week to see what my exact numbers were. They are still subject to change at this point because I still have 10 submissions that I sent last year that I'm waiting to hear back on still. Aside from that, here is where I stand so far for 2010.

Acceptances: 22.92% (yay!)
Accept After Withdrawal: 4.17% (when editors accepted I piece I withdrew already)
No Response: 2.08% (never heard back from these editors)
Personal Rejections: 20.83% (the editor encouraged me, identified me or my poems by name, etc.)
Rejections: 25.00% (straight up no)
Withdrawals: 4.17% (I withdrew entire submission)
Pending: 20.83%

My rejections combine to around 45% which isn't that bad. Once I hear back from a few more journals that number will increase. But statistically speaking, more than 1 out of every 5 submissions gets accepted. I'd say I had a pretty good year. Here's hoping to 2011 being even better. So far my stats for 2011 are as follows:

Rejections: 22.22%
Pending: 77.78%

I've only sent out 9 submissions this year so far. I better get going!