Featuring at Time to Arrive Open Mic

I would like to go to more open mics, but I also need time to live and write and whatever. Since I found out about them, which took a while, I have occasionally gone to the live open mics here in Auburn, but they often conflict with my schedule. Since we are moving, I have not reached out to the local poets as much as I would if I were just retiring and hanging out here, so the online open mics are it, at least until we are permanently in Chicago.

Another reason I don’t do many open mics is that my poetry output seems to be slim compared to that of people who regularly attend workshops and have really thrown themselves into the poetry fray. Although I had fun at the LazyDaze LIVE! Prompt Writing Workshop in Austin and with the online Prose Poetry Workshop I tried recently, and although I believe I produced some good work at both, I have also been in workshops that made me ask, “Why are we here?” For me to be comfortable and productive at a workshop, the facilitator should show me something I don’t know, and everyone should be friendly. I think being slightly stoned at Lazy Daze also had a positive, loosening effect, but that is not required. Since workshops that I know will stimulate me to produce things and think about my poetry from fresh perspectives do not grow on trees, I tend to write poetry when inspiration strikes, which is much more rarely than it seems to be for my poetry colleagues. I don’t want to go to open mics and read the same old things over and over.

Between teaching, playing, and trying to move out of our house, on the one hand, and my under-production of poetry, on the other, I have wound up attending most often two open mics that fit my schedule: Poetic License Global Open Mic, which takes place on the first Sunday afternoon of each month online under the auspices of Janet Kuypers; and Time to Arrive, which takes place every Tuesday evening and is hosted by Dane Ince. Neither minds if I have only my novel draft to read from, or even an occasional piece on the violin, instead of a poem. It’s okay, too, if I have rehearsal or teaching and can’t show up.

At Poetic License, Janet is always the host and the feature, because one of the purposes of the gathering is to showcase her work as poet and publisher. I don’t begrudge her. The group is usually small, so there is plenty of opportunity to read, and the other poets and artists of various kinds are friendly and supportive.

But there’s no opportunity to feature. At Time to Arrive, there is always a 15- to 20-minute feature, and often the poet is impressive and inspiring. I was somewhat envious of those who had that opportunity, but I didn’t necessarily feel I was worthy of the honor. Because of my music schedule and frequent travel, my attendance is desultory, and many people, not just the features, seemed to write stronger poems, than I, and more of them.

So I was pleased and surprised when Dane issued me a “standing invitation” to feature. I was also mired in a concert that was hurting my back and stressing me out. I thanked him and told him I’d have to talk about it with him the following week. A few days later, he informed me he had scheduled me for that week.

After the concert, I got together a 20-minute reading of poems and prose about my life that progressed thematically from birth to death. I’m a good reader, generally, and Dane was very encouraging about how it went. The other people said some nice things, too, so I feel I’ve successfully reached a milestone in my poetry journey, though I still have a long way to go.

I will share the recording if I ever locate it. My computer here is old (I’ll have a new one when I move), and I am near or over my iCloud storage limit, so if the recording came out and was stored, it’s anyone’s guess where (yes, I’ve looked in Documents). I’m hopeful it will come to light when I transfer the files from the old to the new computer. But the important thing is, I featured, and I will feature again sometime.

“Dear Granddaughter” Accepted for Wordrunner eChapbooks

jenny818, me and nana. 12 August 2009. flickr. CC BY 2.0.

I do not want to be the kind of wouldbe grandmother who puts pressure on her kids. An Indian boyfriend once told me that if a young couple had no children in his country, older women in the family would not hesitate to pull either one of the young people aside and say, “So, any trouble in the bedroom?” We broke up for other reasons, but his vignette has lingered in my memory as an object lesson on how not to be. I especially want to avoid it because during the dancing at my daughter’s wedding reception, one of her Zambian-American groom’s older female friends and relations came up to where I was sitting and, bending down, said, “Our people like to dance. But we will really dance when they have a child!”

Once my daughter and son-in-law brought it up, I did admit to some excitement about the possibility, but I try not to put pressure. It is a matter between them, none of my business unless they want to share something. Also, I am an adult with a full life. I do not need other people to do things for me so I can complete myself.

Nevertheless, I can’t help but have a few dreams and ideas on the subject of hypothetical future grandmothering. So I wrote them down as an automatic writing exercise for my prose poetry workshop, and later saw in the Wordrunner eChapbooks newsletter that its editors were looking for submissions to their second issue of microprose. As I recall, they wanted stories of no more than 200 words with strong characters and plots. Tall order. At the end, seemingly as an afterthought, they said they would also consider prose poetry.

I had some doubts, as I usually do in these cases. Would the editorial team really go for what I feel is a poem that has pretty archetypal characters established mostly by a strong voice and some details about their activities, activities that seem more like a list of things one might do in Chicago than a plot? I was fond of the piece, but that might be a personal thing that wouldn’t translate to readers. Besides, I had written it automatically. How good could it be?

Luckily, I had just read it among friends and gotten a positive reception. So I submitted the piece. I am happy to say that Editor Jo-Anne Rosen not only accepted it but called it “this gem of a micro.” All of which is reassuring, especially because I have been rejected from this venue at least once. Thanks to Editor Rosen and the Wordrunner team! I am happy to have found my grandmother dreams a healthy outlet.