Thanks for visiting. This is my last post. My life has become much too busy to maintain this site.
If you'd like to keep up with me, please visit my website at juliebrooksbarbour (dot) weebly (dot) com.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
The Bear: A Metaphor for Writing
This wonderful metaphor was written by Devin Hartman, one of my freshman composition students, about his progress on an essay draft.
For me, writing isn't something that needs to be carefully prepared or thought out like some kind of malicious plot. Writing is an art in which anything can happen at anytime, in any location, whenever it chooses to manifest itself. A bear does not wake each morning, emerge from its den and decide what it wants to eat and then spend the whole day searching for that one item. Instead the bear will eat anything and everything it can get its paws on. The bear acts on its own instinct. He knows he needs to eat as much as possible in order to survive the winter. Bears do not plan out their day-to-day lives; they find a starting point and just go with it. Whatever happens to the bear on that day happens; the bear has no means of controlling anything. I see writing as the same concept. One can plan all they like, but they can never control what they write and write well at the same time. The only way to truly write is to mentally get lost in what one is currently writing about and just go with it. Ride it out and see where it takes you. Mistakes are correctable. Simple ideas can be built stronger. Don't try to make a paper flawless the first time; worrying only makes everything worse.
For me, writing isn't something that needs to be carefully prepared or thought out like some kind of malicious plot. Writing is an art in which anything can happen at anytime, in any location, whenever it chooses to manifest itself. A bear does not wake each morning, emerge from its den and decide what it wants to eat and then spend the whole day searching for that one item. Instead the bear will eat anything and everything it can get its paws on. The bear acts on its own instinct. He knows he needs to eat as much as possible in order to survive the winter. Bears do not plan out their day-to-day lives; they find a starting point and just go with it. Whatever happens to the bear on that day happens; the bear has no means of controlling anything. I see writing as the same concept. One can plan all they like, but they can never control what they write and write well at the same time. The only way to truly write is to mentally get lost in what one is currently writing about and just go with it. Ride it out and see where it takes you. Mistakes are correctable. Simple ideas can be built stronger. Don't try to make a paper flawless the first time; worrying only makes everything worse.
Monday, July 9, 2012
"A hunger so elaborate"
I've been in love with Marianne Boruch's work since the summer I read her Poems: New and Selected during my daughter's swimming lessons. I fell in love with her style and her acute detail of past and present moments. Even her first memoir, The Glimpse Traveler, doesn't steer from her quality of vision.
I'm currently finishing Boruch's newest book of poems, The Book of Hours, which is unlike any book of hers I've read before. (I should note that Boruch is a poet who doesn't repeat herself, who pushes herself further with each new project.) The book is divided into eight sections. The title of every poem is the first line, and every poem is composed of unrhyming quatrains. Enjoy the one below.
Like the silkworm. Is it
Like the silkworm. Is it
spit the spider
leaves behind? Loose
tangle of squares
and circles so moth
and fly go stupid
to pass through or rest
on a thread. Not yet,
either one, though wind
billows the doorway.
She does a little repair,
down, sideways.
A hunger so elaborate
is casual now. Nothing
to it but the rising
and the falling.
Marianne Boruch
from The Book of Hours
Copper Canyon Press
I'm currently finishing Boruch's newest book of poems, The Book of Hours, which is unlike any book of hers I've read before. (I should note that Boruch is a poet who doesn't repeat herself, who pushes herself further with each new project.) The book is divided into eight sections. The title of every poem is the first line, and every poem is composed of unrhyming quatrains. Enjoy the one below.
Like the silkworm. Is it
Like the silkworm. Is it
spit the spider
leaves behind? Loose
tangle of squares
and circles so moth
and fly go stupid
to pass through or rest
on a thread. Not yet,
either one, though wind
billows the doorway.
She does a little repair,
down, sideways.
A hunger so elaborate
is casual now. Nothing
to it but the rising
and the falling.
Marianne Boruch
from The Book of Hours
Copper Canyon Press
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Letting It Live
For the past few weeks, I've been slowing down. Well, I've been busy with numerous things, but I've decided to let my poems do what they will and to let my manuscript breathe. For a while, I was reorganizing the manuscript every few weeks and becoming irritated that I couldn't find an order that told a story I wanted to listen to. I also knew that if I didn't like the sequence of the poems in the book, then an editor wouldn't, either.
Of course, there's no way to judge whether an editor will like a manuscript, but I don't want to send a book out into the world until I'm happy with it. And that's not to say I've done that. I've made mistakes.
Those mistakes led me to this: let the manuscript breathe. By leaving the manuscript alone and letting it live, I've let the poems have a life of their own instead of forcing them into a pattern where they feel trapped. They tell me where they need to go, what story they need to tell. All I need to do is listen.
On a similar subject, an article over at Publishing Perspectives that's well worth the read: http://publishingperspectives.com/2012/06/good-books-are-worth-the-wait/
Of course, there's no way to judge whether an editor will like a manuscript, but I don't want to send a book out into the world until I'm happy with it. And that's not to say I've done that. I've made mistakes.
Those mistakes led me to this: let the manuscript breathe. By leaving the manuscript alone and letting it live, I've let the poems have a life of their own instead of forcing them into a pattern where they feel trapped. They tell me where they need to go, what story they need to tell. All I need to do is listen.
On a similar subject, an article over at Publishing Perspectives that's well worth the read: http://publishingperspectives.com/2012/06/good-books-are-worth-the-wait/
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Seeking
I am writing poems that seek, that seem to go nowhere, even though seeking goes somewhere. I am writing poems about light, about the loss of human companionship, about how connected we should be to the living world.
Isn't that what poetry does? It seeks, it finds, and, as we move with it, as we follow where it leads, we end up in a different place, a place of clarity.
Isn't that what poetry does? It seeks, it finds, and, as we move with it, as we follow where it leads, we end up in a different place, a place of clarity.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
The World Opens Up Again
Spring has finally hit Northern Michigan. The lilacs are in full bloom, dandelions poke their heads out a few days after a grass cutting, and the air warms and brightens. We're only given four months of this glorious scene each year, and I always look forward to it.
Every spring, once the semester has ended and I've decompressed from the work of the academic year, once I'm comfortable with open ended days, as well as time to read, something happens to me. I slow down, no longer running at break-neck speed, trying to get everything done at once. I no longer have to multi-task. For a few weeks, I don't know how to handle this transition.
Then I write a new poem. And the world opens up again.
Every spring, once the semester has ended and I've decompressed from the work of the academic year, once I'm comfortable with open ended days, as well as time to read, something happens to me. I slow down, no longer running at break-neck speed, trying to get everything done at once. I no longer have to multi-task. For a few weeks, I don't know how to handle this transition.
Then I write a new poem. And the world opens up again.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
About An Artist
This post isn't just about any artist. It's about the artist who designed the cover art for my chapbook, Come To Me and Drink.
Amelia Grace Brooks' piece that appears on the cover of the chapbook is titled "First Flight" and was created with india ink and graphite. Click here to view the cover art.
To see a few samples of artwork from Ms. Brooks' collections, scroll down. A short bio appears below the pieces. I hope you enjoy her work as much as I do.
"Little Lamb II", 2009, Silver gelatin print, 16 in x 20 in.
"Murmuration", 2012, Color pencil, watercolor and mixed media, 12 in. x 12 in.
"Flight", 2012, Color pencil, watercolor and mixed media, 12 in. x 12 in.
Born in the foothills of North Carolina on a small dwindling cotton farm, Amelia Grace Brooks was always surrounded by animals, and from a very early age grew to hold a deep love for them. In 2000, Brooks graduated from North Carolina State University with a Bachelors degree in Animal Science. After graduating, she spent many years studying fine woodworking and furniture design at Savannah College of Art and Design, and Penland School of Craft. In 2010, Brooks finished her Bachelors in Fine Art at Augusta State University. She now combines her woodworking skills and passion for animals in her sculptures and other mediums. Her prints and sculptures draw from her childhood of freedom roaming the farm and all the animals she encountered through a world of reality and make believe. Her work continues to evolve and strongly relate to life experiences and change. Her current work explores a migration through those changes and the delicate balance of our present tense.
Ms. Brooks' current collection, Murmurations, can be seen at the Gertrude Herbert Institute of Art in the Creel-Harison Community Art Gallery from March 9 to May 25, 2012.
Amelia Grace Brooks' piece that appears on the cover of the chapbook is titled "First Flight" and was created with india ink and graphite. Click here to view the cover art.
To see a few samples of artwork from Ms. Brooks' collections, scroll down. A short bio appears below the pieces. I hope you enjoy her work as much as I do.
"Little Lamb II", 2009, Silver gelatin print, 16 in x 20 in.
"Murmuration", 2012, Color pencil, watercolor and mixed media, 12 in. x 12 in.
"Flight", 2012, Color pencil, watercolor and mixed media, 12 in. x 12 in.
Born in the foothills of North Carolina on a small dwindling cotton farm, Amelia Grace Brooks was always surrounded by animals, and from a very early age grew to hold a deep love for them. In 2000, Brooks graduated from North Carolina State University with a Bachelors degree in Animal Science. After graduating, she spent many years studying fine woodworking and furniture design at Savannah College of Art and Design, and Penland School of Craft. In 2010, Brooks finished her Bachelors in Fine Art at Augusta State University. She now combines her woodworking skills and passion for animals in her sculptures and other mediums. Her prints and sculptures draw from her childhood of freedom roaming the farm and all the animals she encountered through a world of reality and make believe. Her work continues to evolve and strongly relate to life experiences and change. Her current work explores a migration through those changes and the delicate balance of our present tense.
Ms. Brooks' current collection, Murmurations, can be seen at the Gertrude Herbert Institute of Art in the Creel-Harison Community Art Gallery from March 9 to May 25, 2012.
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