Last night, a burst of snow caught us all by surprise. It took me 3 hours and 20 minutes to get home from work when it should have taken me about 45 minutes. Lots of spinouts and accidents on my 40-mile ride. It was one of those soul-crushing commutes that caused me to question every life choice I've ever made. One of those 'Why-am-I-here?" rides. Ugh.
I did listen to two podcasts that got me through, one of which was with Brian Turner on New Letters on the Air. His work is phenomenal. So precise and gripping.
I hate winter. One day, I’m moving back to the South where the winters are not as harsh.
Yesterday, I sent my manuscript to my publisher! Yahoo! They have the right of first refusal, which means if they decide to pass on it, and I’m back to square one. But I’m hopeful. The work is good, and with the strong sales for Underlife I believe the odds are in my favor.
The second manuscript touches on a wider range of topics, with poems about the economy, work life, and environmental issues, but centers on family and, yes, addresses the topic of divorce. “Misery Islands,” my long poem about the divorce (11 sections), is a central part of the book. But the work is so deep, in my opinion, that if I pulled the poem, the manuscript would still stand as a solid second collection.
As I put my thoughts down about this manuscript, I feel really good that I’ve been able to complete book #2 amidst working full time and raising a family. I heard Matthew Dickman once say he was married to poetry—that’s exactly how I feel.
I also sent off an entry to one of the PSA’s poetry contests. I think this may be the only contest I’ve paid to enter this year. Deadline for all submissions is December 22.
My Christmas shopping is 60 percent complete. The holiday card I ordered arrived yesterday so I’ll write them out after I finish this post. Fortunately, my parents are here to help fill in the gaps. But I’m way overcommitted with appointments this week. I just need to chill.
Still on a high from my reading with Major.
Life is pretty damn good. Except for winter, life is pretty good.