The English language is a system, albeit a wonky and sometimes counterintuitive one. Writers can certainly choose to break the rules of that system, but it helps for us to first be aware of the rules from which we’re departing.
In October’s episode, podcast editor Meghan Pipe dives into the archives to read Katherine Hill’s “Waste Management,” winner of the 2010 Nelligan Prize for Short Fiction (Fall/Winter 2010 issue). Then, Hill joins in via phone to chat about the Nelligan Prize and how her writing life has unfolded since winning. Listen to the podcast here: […]
. . . there’s also nothing quite like finishing the memoir of a real person who has lived through something similar to what I’ve experienced, and finding a kindred spirit in those pages.
In the past several weeks, I have read submissions about war and horrific physical injuries, debilitating ailments and incurable diseases, families shattered by divorce or marital infidelity, death and suicide, drug addiction and abuse, homophobia, transphobia, and so many other sources of trauma that I often find myself ruminating on these narratives well after my shift at the Center for Literary Publishing has ended.
Confession: I always wanted to take a poetry class, but felt that I was impeded by a gentleperson’s agreement of sorts, a sense that fiction and poetry had their own “turf.”
In Colorado Review’s September episode, Podcast Editor Lauren Matheny, Co-Nonfiction Editor Harrison Candelaria Fletcher, and Associate Editor Michelle LaCrosse discuss “Daughter Tongue,” an essay by Kathleen Blackburn featured in the Summer 2017 issue of the magazine. Listen to the podcast here: Episode 28.
In order to keep this daily poetry need stress-free, I’ve been actively seeking out daily poetry emails and services. I thought that you too, in your daily stresses, joys, and attention to spring weather, might also want to enjoy this stress-free daily poetry, and so I’ve compiled a list of places to sign up for and read poems.
What if I get rejected? What if a journal accepts a poem, and then five years down the road I am ashamed to see it out in the world?
Not that being odd is currently under literary attack or anything, but I’ve been thinking about how certain pieces of writing are perfectly misshapen—a trapezoidal-peg-round-hole sort of thing—just enough to defy clear categorization.
I admitted, then, like a secret or a dare, “I’ve found myself writing preach, mama in the margins of the books I’m reading,” which has been the biggest puzzle to emerge out of many otherwise subtle changes.