Can you tell us a
little bit about the process of writing and revising Rag & Bone? You hold an MFA and a PhD, right? Were any of the
poems in this book included in your thesis or dissertation?
I never had the idea that I was writing a book – that task
is so monumental I don’t think I could have written a line if that had been the
goal. Instead I spent years writing poems, occasionally pausing to spread all
of the ones I liked out on the floor and see if they could be grouped in an
elegant and meaningful way. Then I’d submit the result to publishers and go
back to writing new poems. I repeated this process every six months or so,
taking out weaker poems and putting in newer, better ones. I can remember at
least six different titles and arrangements, but there were probably more.
There are a few poems from the time when I was working on my MFA that made it
into Rag & Bone, and many more
from my PhD time.
How did you know when
the manuscript was ready to begin sending out?
I definitely began sending out the manuscript before it was
ready. But I’m not sure how to avoid that. If I found myself thinking older
work was as good as it possibly could be, that would be a sign I’d stopped growing
as a writer. Alternatively, if I never had those moments of confidence that I
had just written something really great, I’d have to give up writing
altogether. This is why I love and am grateful for editors – without them I’d
be alone in my attic accepting and rejecting myself willy nilly.
How much research was
involved in selecting which contests to enter with this book? There are so many
poetry manuscript contests out there—how did you learn about the Antivenom
Prize?
I used The Writer’s
Chronicle and Poets and Writers to keep track of the upcoming contests. If
there were presses I wasn’t already familiar with, I’d check out their
catalogue to see if they published the kind of books I want to read.
What made you decide
to enter the Antivenom contest in particular? How did you know your book would
be a good fit for Elixir Press?
Elixir seemed like a good fit, because many of the poets
they published share my interests in quirky history, scientific factoids, and
mythic memory.
Can you talk a little
about the editorial process for your book? How closely did your editor work
with you once the book had been selected as the winner?
Dana Curtis was a very patient and helpful editor. I’d just
finished one of those big overhauls of the manuscript about a month before I
found out I’d won the prize, so I sent her a manuscript that had a completely
different title, a different ordering of poems, and in some cases, some pretty
dramatic revisions of the poems themselves. She shared the revisions with Jane
Satterfield, who judged the contest, and they accepted these changes. She also
had the manuscript carefully copy edited, which was a great help, since there
are a million ways to bungle a comma. And she worked with a designer who did
four versions of the cover that I was invited to choose from. I’ve heard horror
stories about presses that claim artistic control of the manuscript once it’s
been accepted for publication, but I was always included in the decision-making
process and my requests were always respected… all the way down to my
preference for a serif-font.
What has the press
done to get the book in the hands of readers? What have you done personally to
market the book?
The press sent out many review copies of the book and also
has submitted it to some prizes. I’ve scheduled readings in any city where I
can find a couch to crash on.
I’ve long been
interested in the difference between an MFA and a PhD—both are considered
terminal degrees, though more and more programs these days are looking to hire
people with PhD’s. As someone who has been through both types of programs, what
do you see as the major differences? Would you encourage writers to get one
degree over the other?
I thought of getting an MFA as the secular equivalent to
spending two years in a monastery or asherim. I was checking out of the work
force for a time to focus my attention on poetry because I thought I would be a
happier and more fulfilled person at the end of that process. In the back of my
mind there was also the thought that I might be able to work in academia
someday, which can be a really supportive environment for writers.
Because those two MFA years were the first time I had
devoted myself so completely to the study and practice of writing, the learning
curve was shockingly steep. I did not experience that same degree of explosive
growth during the time I worked on my PhD. Instead, the four years I spent in a
PhD program were a time of steady growth and more methodical revision. It was
also a great time to work with accomplished writers and study alongside
talented young writers. One great benefit of getting a PhD for me was that I
was sheltered during that period from the financial insecurities of the job market
– I didn’t have to worry about whether I would be able to find work as an
adjunct from one semester to the next, nor did I have to return to my old job
as a high school teacher, which can be very time-consuming and
emotionally-draining.
I would advise creative writers to choose programs that
emphasize craft over literary theory -- but that balance varies from program to program and the MA/MFA/PhD
distinctions aren’t necessarily the key factor. I would also advise writers to
pursue these degrees because they find pleasure in the educational process
itself. If the MFA or PhD is only a means to a tenure-track end, the risk of
squandering 6-7 years of your life in pursuit of uninsured, low-wage adjunct
work is very high.
I know you teach
full-time now at the University of Central Missouri, where you also work as the
Poetry Editor of Pleiades. Do you still find the time to write? What are you
working on now?
Because I’m a mom to a young child, I find that this new job
actually allows me more time to write. Greater financial security = more child
care. I like to joke that I work 9-5 at the poetry factory. I write from 9-11
every morning, then spend the rest of the day on my teaching and editing
responsibilities. For me that steady rhythm is good for the creative process. I
just finished up a new manuscript earlier this week. It’s a series of poems
based on fragments of an Old Kingdom Egyptian cosmology. But if my experience
with my first book was any indicator, I’ll be rewriting the whole thing again
in six months.
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