Look what I made.

If only writing were this easy. Ignore completely. Kick the leaves away one day. Oh. Look at that.

Lately I've been too exhausted to write poems. By lately I mean in the past two weeks. I blame email. And these flowers. They are just far too excitable.

And somehow, magically, I'm supposed to be able to work on a day like this?

As a writer, do you ever feel too dreamy for the real world?

Do I? Why yes. I sure do. The worst is when I'm in a meeting and folks are discussing something that doesn't really relate to me. I just drift away. And then they reel me back.

Some people think it's hard to concentrate on a bright, sunny day. I'm the opposite of that.

It smelled like spring out there this morning. A welcome comfort during the most hectic time of the year.

Where do we go now?

All weekend I've been taking pictures of things that look haunted in some way. I cut things short at the gym on Saturday because I passed this window, and couldn't stop thinking about it. Well, I was also really hungry and lightheaded, so that was a reason to ditch too. But I would've been sad not to get this picture.

I went back today, only earlier, and the light wasn't quite right.

Sometimes I think it's easier taking pictures than writing poems. It's easier to keep them. You don't know how many lines I've lost in the past week because I didn't have the time to write them down. Later. I'll do it later. And then later it's gone.

I make myself feel better by thinking that the really important ideas are bound to resurface. But what if they never do?

O blogosphere friends, do you ever speculate about what percentage of your creative matter goes unspent?

Say you are writing something brilliant and the doorbell rings, and it's somebody asking you to sign a petition, and when you get back to your work all you can think about is clipboards and pens taped to string, string knotted to clipboard. You might as well start from the beginning.

Do feel like you are writing (literally, or figuratively) all of the time, or only when you are actually writing?

I'm an "all of the time" kind of writer. I don't even want to speculate about the percentage of my creative matter that goes unspent whilst blogging, on facebook, etc. Let's not talk about that.

In other news, hello Spring Break. I will spend most of you editing, but I will not be at my desk.

Mary Biddinger & Jennifer Karmin @ Visible Voice on 3/21

SATURDAY, MARCH 21
8pm

MARY BIDDINGER & JENNIFER KARMIN
at VISIBLE VOICE BOOKS
1023 Kenilworth
Cleveland, Ohio
http://www.visiblevoicebooks.com

MARY BIDDINGER is the author of Prairie Fever (Steel Toe Books, 2007). Her work has recently appeared or is forthcoming in 32 Poems, Copper Nickel, Gulf Coast, The Laurel Review, Memorious, Ninth Letter, North American Review, /nor, Third Coast, and many other journals. She is the editor of the Akron Series in Poetry, and Co-Editor-in-Chief of Barn Owl Review. She teaches at the University of Akron, and is the incoming director of the NEOMFA: Northeast Ohio Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing program.

JENNIFER KARMIN's text-sound epic, Aaaaaaaaaaalice, will be published by Flim Forum Press in 2009. She curates the Red Rover Series and is co-founder of the public art group Anti Gravity Surprise. Her multidisciplinary projects have been presented nationally at festivals, artist-run spaces, and on city streets. Karmin teaches creative writing to immigrants at Truman College and works as a Poet-in-Residence for the Chicago Public Schools. New poems are published in Cannot Exist, MoonLit, Otoliths, Come Together: Imagine Peace (Bottom Dog Press) and Not A Muse (Haven Books).

No substitute?

It's 4:30 pm, and I've just ripped my contacts out of my eyes and put glasses on. I get the same feeling every day, like my eyes are encapsulated in burning half-spheres from hell. I can thank staring at the computer screen for this.

Simultaneously, I've been contemplating an eventual move to electronic submissions for the Akron Poetry Prize (not this year, but in the future). I'm of two minds. I personally like the convenience of submitting electronically, even if I can't kiss the envelope before sending. But I'm not sure how I'd like reading electronically as an editor.

We only do electronic subs for Barn Owl Review, but I print out things that interest me and read them on paper. With my own poems, I don't feel that they are real until I've seen them on the page.

However, when I read an online litmag, especially one that really curls my toes, I have no problem connecting directly with the text, à la print.

Where do you stand on this dilemma? Can you read, and I mean read, off the screen? Will this get easier with time?

If you would like to discuss this issue further, come see me read at the Literary Cafe in Tremont tomorrow night. Details here. In honor of Lent my theme will be Sacred + Profane.

Wherever it takes you.

When you write a poem, do you plan it out ahead of time, or do you just find your inspiration and ride it like a mechanical bull until it throws you off?

We were talking about inspiration today, and how we get there, and I realized that my habits have changed a bit. I used to have to drink red wine and listen to classic rock for a while, and then the muse struck me. Once it did, I had no idea where the poem was going. Often it went places that were inexplicable (and not always in a good way).

Now I tend to go into a poem with 3-5 things I want to accomplish. I'm not sure about the execution, but I know that there will be a Dalmatian, salami, some kind of firearm, a belt buckle, and a pair of fishnets. It's like a game. Find room for all of these things. I ask friends to give me items to work into a poem, and then I get on it. I still end up surprising myself, thankfully.

I've never written a poem that I plotted out ahead of time. How does that work?

*

In honor of the golden ripe bananas above, here are some tidbits.

The second issue of Weave has a fine lineup. You can even read some of the poems as a preview.

I talk about my idea of heaven in this interview with 32 Poems.

Lost? Confused? Pre-order your copy of Map of the Folded World today.

A new chapbook by one of the most beautiful creatures ever to walk the earth. Try not to swoon, okay? I'm warning you.

PS--Those bananas are not golden or ripe.

Where I will be tonight.

Poetry Night at Max McQ's
Max McQ's | 1562 Akron-Peninsula Road, Akron | 330.940.3400
Mary Biddinger w/ special guests:
Frank DePoole, Eric M. Morris, Aaron Smith, and Tobin Terry. Poetry open mic to follow reading.
8:30 to 10:30 pm
Admission: Free

I think that the backwards N will have to become my new affectation.

I will be reading from Prairie Fever, Hot Corners, and Mysterious Book #3.

In case you can't make it, here are some future events.