Sunday Scribblings: Goosebumps

A few months ago, I wrote a column for Poetry Thursday called “Chasing Phil Levine.” In it, I talked about the experience of writing a letter to Phil, who was my thesis adviser and mentor during my grad school years at New York University more than 10 years ago. Yesterday, I received a response to my letter—and that was certainly an occasion for Goosebumps.

Here’s an excerpt from the original article:

Studying with a talented writer is a real gift, no matter how famous or how many books he or she has published. Phil was more than a mentor. He was a physical representation of how I wanted to live in the world as a practicing poet. He gave his time to me and my classmates, encouraged us to experience life in the real world, and pushed us to question everything. I knew that to be the kind of poet I wanted to be, a part of me had to change to practice this vocation.

In other words, Phil taught me it was OK to make an ass out of myself.

The letter was my “state of the union,” giving Phil a long-overdue update on my poetic and personal life. I sent a photo of my family and a few poems, as if Phil would even want this information from me. But I always felt that we had a connection, and that he was a true advocate for my success. I wanted Phil to know that I was healthy and happy, still writing poems, still making an ass out of myself every chance I get!

In the Poetry Thursday column, I said that getting a reply from Phil wasn’t that important—I wrote the letter for me. Well, I lied! I wanted a response. Since so much time had passed, I thought I must have misjudged the importance of this relationship. But all was revealed in the letter, and without going into too much detail, he seemed proud of my accomplishments and loved my most recent poems.

Lately, I have been waiting for responses from publishers telling me something—anything—about my manuscript. So when my husband gave me Phil’s letter, it was the last thing I expected. I hesitated for a minute, as if it was still a rejection letter. In that split second, I felt Goosebumps rise on my arms. Now, I’ve come full circle. I'm ready to put this glorious part of my past to rest.

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