The world of publishing and publicity has begun to stir from its holiday slumber, and I am in my own way involved
Roxana Soto, co-founder and co-editor of the blog Spanglish Baby, interviews me here and reviews The Best Mariachi in the World/El Mejor Mariachi del Mundo. I am delighted to be a small part of this vibrant and increasingly well-known site.
Two things might help persuade you to read the article. First, one copy of the bilingual edition will be given away to one commenter or other reader who expresses interest by 12 midnight Eastern Standard Time on January 17. Second, as promised long ago in the first post of this blog, I finally get around to explaining how a guy named Smith ends up writing about mariachis. I come by the topic honestly, in my own way.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
New Poem on 14 by 14
I am pleased to report that my sonnet "Botanical Garden" appears online in Issue 11 of 14 by 14, the "lean sonnet zine" that features 14 sonnets by 14 poets in each edition. You may never see goldfish the same way again after reading my short poem.
I am particularly pleased to have my work included in the same venue as a poem by Susan McLean, whose collection The Best Disguise was awarded the Richard Wilbur Prize and has recently been published by the University of Evansville Press.
I am particularly pleased to have my work included in the same venue as a poem by Susan McLean, whose collection The Best Disguise was awarded the Richard Wilbur Prize and has recently been published by the University of Evansville Press.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Round-Up
These posts usually mention only one topic at a time, but a lot of news has come in over the past few days.
This post therefore lists several items in a round-up, not to be confused with one of the brand names of the herbicide glyphosate, which looms large in controversies surrounding genetically modified organisms in agriculture.
This round-up should engender less controversy, but perhaps a certain amount of interest.
To wit:
1. Literary agent Robin Mizell interviewed me last Friday on her blog Treated & Released. She graciously gave me a considerable amount of valuable online real estate to discuss The Best Mariachi in the World/El Mejor Mariachi del Mundo as well as work that is very much not for children.
2. My poem "Dachshunds of Buenos Aires" appears in Issue 55 of legendary literary magazine Gargoyle. After many years of trying, I have managed to place a poem there. Still, I have to live the rest of my life knowing that I may never come up with a better title for a poem.
3. My poem "Lullaby for the Bereaved" appears in the Winter Issue of Able Muse. Come for my poem, and stay for work by many fine poets as well as a tribute to the late Turner Cassity.
4. I have begun discussing revisions of my one-act play "Dig" with members and affiliates of CurvingRoad in London as we begin the long journey toward a June engagement at a venue to be named nex month. I am a bit intimidated by the whole thing, but there is no choice but to press on and learn something.
5. I am even now starting preparations for next May's Book Expo America. The time for my signing has not yet been determined, but I have put in for a slot and will make the information known as soon as possible.
The last few days have also included rejections of both prose and poetry, including one of my two circulating book manuscripts, but those are much less enjoyable to discuss.
This post therefore lists several items in a round-up, not to be confused with one of the brand names of the herbicide glyphosate, which looms large in controversies surrounding genetically modified organisms in agriculture.
This round-up should engender less controversy, but perhaps a certain amount of interest.
To wit:
1. Literary agent Robin Mizell interviewed me last Friday on her blog Treated & Released. She graciously gave me a considerable amount of valuable online real estate to discuss The Best Mariachi in the World/El Mejor Mariachi del Mundo as well as work that is very much not for children.
2. My poem "Dachshunds of Buenos Aires" appears in Issue 55 of legendary literary magazine Gargoyle. After many years of trying, I have managed to place a poem there. Still, I have to live the rest of my life knowing that I may never come up with a better title for a poem.
3. My poem "Lullaby for the Bereaved" appears in the Winter Issue of Able Muse. Come for my poem, and stay for work by many fine poets as well as a tribute to the late Turner Cassity.
4. I have begun discussing revisions of my one-act play "Dig" with members and affiliates of CurvingRoad in London as we begin the long journey toward a June engagement at a venue to be named nex month. I am a bit intimidated by the whole thing, but there is no choice but to press on and learn something.
5. I am even now starting preparations for next May's Book Expo America. The time for my signing has not yet been determined, but I have put in for a slot and will make the information known as soon as possible.
The last few days have also included rejections of both prose and poetry, including one of my two circulating book manuscripts, but those are much less enjoyable to discuss.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
New Poem in Tilt-a-Whirl
I am pleased to note that my new poem "Crepuscule" appears in Issue of 1 of Tilt-a-Whirl: A Poetry Sporadical of Repeating Forms, a venture by poet and editor Kate Bernadette Benedict.
My poem is a triolet, an eight-line form. Other forms in the issue include the ghazal, rondeau, and villanelle. The latter is perhaps best known to readers as the form of the Dylan Thomas poem "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night," which was given a surprisingly tender reading by Rodney Dangerfield in the film Back to School.
Another popular culture note comes to mind. Had I known that paranormal romance (the publishing trade term for things such as vampire crushes) were going to be a big thing, I would have gone ahead and entitled the poem "Twilight" for reasons that are all too obvious these days.
Oh, well.
My poem is a triolet, an eight-line form. Other forms in the issue include the ghazal, rondeau, and villanelle. The latter is perhaps best known to readers as the form of the Dylan Thomas poem "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night," which was given a surprisingly tender reading by Rodney Dangerfield in the film Back to School.
Another popular culture note comes to mind. Had I known that paranormal romance (the publishing trade term for things such as vampire crushes) were going to be a big thing, I would have gone ahead and entitled the poem "Twilight" for reasons that are all too obvious these days.
Oh, well.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Dogs and Poetry
Last week my wife Paula Van Lare and I had the pleasure and the privilege of volunteering for a couple of days at the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary in Kanab, Utah.
More specifically, we worked at Dogtown, as featured on the National Geographic program of the same name.
You may wonder what this has to do with my writing.
Fair enough.
While only a small portion of my writing has involved dogs, last week's experience made me want to share a couple of previously published dog poems. I have another tangentially canine poem coming out shortly (more on this soon), and I am trying to publish a couple of others.
For now I hope you enjoy these two.
Policy
Because Nubians are still enslaved
I walk my dogs twice a day.
Because a child conceived tonight will inherit addiction
I leave my dogs offerings
of fresh water, with ice cubes.
Because envelopes and marketplaces explode
I hug my dogs and even carry them
where no shrapnel flies.
Because a manatee is sliced
by motorboat blades
and the last wild tiger
has been born,
I keep my dogs' tags and shots
up to date.
Now that any fact can be known
in an instant,
the smallest love is news.
Things touch at a near or far remove:
jays pass raspberry seeds
over fresh fields,
armadillos, burrowed into freight,
widen their range.
Word of my program
will ride the jet stream,
and land like a petal,
or it will bounce, devoutly, off a satellite.
Aubade
Dog, and I believe that I can call you that
with a high degree of accuracy,
in a purely denotative sense, though,
unsullied by cultural associations,
please listen,
since I seldom ask that much of you
(the couch is yours no less than mine,
the pillows, past and present, more so):
You would, if you a possessed a consciousness
of cause and effect, self and other
and the mortality that swallows them,
be grateful to know nothing
beyond that which you know right now
because, for me,
it’s seven-thirty on a partly cloudy
Tuesday, forty-five degrees,
with a sixty-percent chance of rain
and the certainty
of a commute and a day’s work
in which I’ll be wagged by—appended to—
devices engineered by men
who get out even less than me.
Really, they exist,
though you might have gathered otherwise
from the long and many evenings that we share—
like tonight, when we’ll
resume this small symposium.
Until then, fellow traveler on the planet,
Don’t scratch that spot behind your ear—
It’s already bare.
A new rawhide bone is on your bed
and, as always, cane mio,
the kibble’s in the bowl.
More specifically, we worked at Dogtown, as featured on the National Geographic program of the same name.
You may wonder what this has to do with my writing.
Fair enough.
While only a small portion of my writing has involved dogs, last week's experience made me want to share a couple of previously published dog poems. I have another tangentially canine poem coming out shortly (more on this soon), and I am trying to publish a couple of others.
For now I hope you enjoy these two.
Policy
Because Nubians are still enslaved
I walk my dogs twice a day.
Because a child conceived tonight will inherit addiction
I leave my dogs offerings
of fresh water, with ice cubes.
Because envelopes and marketplaces explode
I hug my dogs and even carry them
where no shrapnel flies.
Because a manatee is sliced
by motorboat blades
and the last wild tiger
has been born,
I keep my dogs' tags and shots
up to date.
Now that any fact can be known
in an instant,
the smallest love is news.
Things touch at a near or far remove:
jays pass raspberry seeds
over fresh fields,
armadillos, burrowed into freight,
widen their range.
Word of my program
will ride the jet stream,
and land like a petal,
or it will bounce, devoutly, off a satellite.
Aubade
Dog, and I believe that I can call you that
with a high degree of accuracy,
in a purely denotative sense, though,
unsullied by cultural associations,
please listen,
since I seldom ask that much of you
(the couch is yours no less than mine,
the pillows, past and present, more so):
You would, if you a possessed a consciousness
of cause and effect, self and other
and the mortality that swallows them,
be grateful to know nothing
beyond that which you know right now
because, for me,
it’s seven-thirty on a partly cloudy
Tuesday, forty-five degrees,
with a sixty-percent chance of rain
and the certainty
of a commute and a day’s work
in which I’ll be wagged by—appended to—
devices engineered by men
who get out even less than me.
Really, they exist,
though you might have gathered otherwise
from the long and many evenings that we share—
like tonight, when we’ll
resume this small symposium.
Until then, fellow traveler on the planet,
Don’t scratch that spot behind your ear—
It’s already bare.
A new rawhide bone is on your bed
and, as always, cane mio,
the kibble’s in the bowl.
Monday, October 19, 2009
London Calling
This post is more than just an opportunity to invoke one of the best-known songs by The Clash.
I have a truly dramatic announcement.
To wit, my one-act play "Dig" will be getting its first fully mounted professional production in London, with a scheduled opening night some time in the spring. First published in Rockhurst Review in 1997, "Dig" will be produced thanks to the efforts of Curving Road, a nonprofit registered in both the United Kingdom and the United States. Much of their work involves launching the artistic careers of disadvantaged youth who might not have access to valuable training and connections. In case you wonder about the name, more information is available here.
In this instance, Curving Road placed a call for one-act play submissions from writers over the age of 40 who had never had a play professionally produced. After the inevitable period of waiting that follows any submission, I have learned that my play, along with "Nearly Man" by Scottish playwright Michael Hart, will make up the program.
The Curving Road web site summarizes my play as follows:
" 'Dig' explores through dark humour the power struggle between prey and victim, centering on the dialogue between an executioner and a victim who refuses to dig his own grave."
As you have no doubt already surmised, this is not for children.
Now a whole new sequence of events begins. I am willing to call it a new stage of my education.
I hope to take the lessons learned from this production to the plays I plan to write in the years ahead.
At the moment I have ideas for at least two full-length plays.
I have a truly dramatic announcement.
To wit, my one-act play "Dig" will be getting its first fully mounted professional production in London, with a scheduled opening night some time in the spring. First published in Rockhurst Review in 1997, "Dig" will be produced thanks to the efforts of Curving Road, a nonprofit registered in both the United Kingdom and the United States. Much of their work involves launching the artistic careers of disadvantaged youth who might not have access to valuable training and connections. In case you wonder about the name, more information is available here.
In this instance, Curving Road placed a call for one-act play submissions from writers over the age of 40 who had never had a play professionally produced. After the inevitable period of waiting that follows any submission, I have learned that my play, along with "Nearly Man" by Scottish playwright Michael Hart, will make up the program.
The Curving Road web site summarizes my play as follows:
" 'Dig' explores through dark humour the power struggle between prey and victim, centering on the dialogue between an executioner and a victim who refuses to dig his own grave."
As you have no doubt already surmised, this is not for children.
Now a whole new sequence of events begins. I am willing to call it a new stage of my education.
I hope to take the lessons learned from this production to the plays I plan to write in the years ahead.
At the moment I have ideas for at least two full-length plays.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
New Lists on Top Hat Tap Dance
The list may represent America's unique contribution to humor, and many of us know it best from David Letterman's Top Ten List.
I've recently had a few lists of my own published on the site Top Hat Tap Dance, the creation of Austin, Texas writer and photographer Kristin Hillery, whose work has, like my own, appeared on Yankee Pot Roast.
My lists (or, as some of the kids call them these days, "listicles") appear on the following dates:
I've recently had a few lists of my own published on the site Top Hat Tap Dance, the creation of Austin, Texas writer and photographer Kristin Hillery, whose work has, like my own, appeared on Yankee Pot Roast.
My lists (or, as some of the kids call them these days, "listicles") appear on the following dates:
and September 14
(September 14 was a busy day).
I will soon put together another set of previously published humor links, including both lists and longer articles, but the links above can be considered an appetizer.
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