HAPPY HOLIDAYS! A special note from Guild Director BJ Hollars ...

Greetings Writers!

BJ Hollars

Inspired by the warmth of this holiday season, I wanted to take a moment to thank you for your continued support of the Chippewa Valley Writers Guild.  Thanks to you, the CVWG is now wrapping up its most active season to date.  This fall, we’ve hosted three standing-room-only Craft Talks, featuring: literary agent Erik Hane, National Novel Writing Month municipal liaison Aimee Johnson, and a lyrics writing symposium (complete with live music!) hosted by Max Garland and featuring Jerrika Mighelle, Evans Middlesworth and Billy Krause.  We’ve also produced a live, radio drama version of the 1938 classic War of the Worlds (subsequently aired on BluGold Radio!), as well as organized countless write-ins throughout the city.  In addition, we’re currently hard at work on two new major initiatives: a literary magazine for the Chippewa Valley, as well as additional radio drama opportunities for local writers.  It’s been a whirlwind, to be sure, but what a glorious whirlwind it’s been!

I wanted to cordially invite you to our final event of the fall season: “Joy to the Word: A Holiday-Themed Open Read” which will take place at The Local Store on Saturday, December 10 at 3:00p.m.  Please join us for cookies, cocoa, and the chance to share your favorite original holiday-themed work, or even work written by another.  (To ensure that all can read, please keep your piece to five minutes or less!)

In more exciting news, the Guild is currently putting the finishing touches on next year’s summer residency schedule at Cirenaica.  Trust me—it’s quite a lineup.  We’ll announce the schedule at the start of the new year, but for loyal contributors who make a donation of any size between now and December 17, you’ll receive a pre-announcement email a few days in advance.  It’s just our way of saying thanks to all of you who give so generously so that our events can remain free and open to the public. 

Our philanthropy philosophy is pretty simple here at the Guild: when it comes to giving, participation is our goal. If we all give a little, no one needs to give a lot.  And that’s all we’d ever ask for: a little.  Consider becoming a 5.00/month sustaining member and take pride in knowing that you have personally sponsored a Craft Talk to be enjoyed by all.  Or make a one-time donation and have the satisfaction of knowing that you have contributed meaningfully to our high-impact programming. Though you’re surely being inundated with many worthy causes asking for your end-of-the-year, tax-deductible gifts, please take a moment to consider the Guild.  Your Guild.  And let us grow it together.

To make your gift, please go to www.eauclairearts.com/donate.  Scroll to the bottom of the page and direct your gift either to the Chippewa Valley Writers Guild's Annual Membership or Sustaining Membership campaign.  

Be inspired.  And thank YOU for inspiring us.

Yours,
B.J. Hollars
Director, Chippewa Valley Writers Guild

At a Glance: Upcoming Opportunities to educate, collaborate, and celebrate

The Local Store. Image: Volume One

Where Songs Come From: A Songwriter’s Craft Talk

Whether you have a song in your heart that you just can’t seem to get onto paper, you’re a bona fide lyrical pro, or you fall somewhere in between, this month’s Craft Talk is for you. 

At Where Songs Come From: A Songwriter’s Craft Talk, three prolific local songwriters, Billy Kraus, Jerrika Mighelle, and Evan Middlesworth will share some of their songs and discuss the perils and pleasures (but also the nuts and bolts) of songwriting, using examples from their own recent compositions. The event will be held Nov 17 from 6-7:30pm at The Local Store and will be moderated by Eau Claire Writer-in-Residence Max Garland.

Calling all poets!    

As part of its year of centennial celebrations, UW-Eau Claire is holding a poetry contest. The UW-Eau Claire Centennial Poetry Competition is accepting submissions of original poems on the theme “Reflections on Education” from now until Dec. 31. Judging the competition is Max Garland, UW-Eau Claire professor emeritus of English, former Wisconsin poet laureate, and Eau Claire’s Writer-in- Residence. The winners will be announced at the 2017 Frederick G. and Joan Christopherson Schmidt Robert Frost Celebration of American Poetry in April, where they will then read their winning poems. Cash prizes are available for first, second, and third places. The competition is sponsored by the UW-Eau Claire Foundation, English department, and McIntyre Library.

Click here for more information on the UW-Eau Claire Centennial Poetry Competition, or contact Greg Kocken at kockeng@uwec.edu. 

Joy to the Word

This holiday season, treat yourself to an afternoon of holiday cheer, hot cocoa, and the company of local writers. On Dec. 10, The Local Store will host Joy to the Word: A Holiday-Themed Open Read from 3-4:30pm. Come celebrate the magic of the season and the power of words by sharing a favorite seasonal story, song, poem, or essay. The event will feature Eau Claire Writer-in-Residence Max Garland. 

7 Questions with Jeannie Roberts

Jeannie Roberts

by Alison Wagener

If there’s one thing you need to know about Jeannie Roberts, it’s that she lives on the bright side of life. But the local poet understands that everything exists in balance and moderation.  

Jeannie’s soon-to-be-released collection of poetry, Romp and Ceremony, highlights this blend of realistic optimism with a voice that’s lyric, lilting, and full of soundplay. Poet Bill Yarrow said the collection presents “A book for all those who admire the sobriety of ceremony and appreciate the intoxication of a romp.” 

Romp and Ceremony was slated to be released Nov. 11, but publishing setbacks have pushed that date out several weeks. Jeannie said she hopes for it to be available by January. There is, of course, a silver lining to this delay: Jeannie has promised to donate $2 per book sold during its presale to the Confluence Project in Eau Claire. A longer presale means more money will be given back to the project. 

Jeannie was born in Minneapolis and, in her words, has since lived a hybrid Wisconsin-Minnesota life. In 2007, she served as the interim director of the Eau Claire Regional Arts Center (ECRAC). She's also worked as a house manager for ECRAC and been a member of the visual arts committee. When she’s not writing, she volunteers her time for Motionpoems in Minneapolis and also runs her own freelance creative company.  She’s recently moved to Eau Claire after living in the Chippewa Falls area. 

When we sat down to chat, she explained that the photo featured on the cover of Romp and Ceremony is of a yard neighboring her old home near Chippewa Falls. The yard is full of unorthodox lawn ornaments, trinkets that Jeannie said her clean-yard-loving father nicknamed “putterbellies.” In a poem of the same name, she offers a humorous take on the different assortment of items people use to decorate their yards. 

Are all of the poems in this collection more lighthearted, more humorous, like “Putterbellies”? 

“There are six sections within my book, and the heaviest humor section is titled ‘Romp It Up!’ It’s lighthearted, there's much whimsy interwoven within the poems. The remaining sections include: ‘Seasonal Disorders,’ ‘Brighter Days Ahead,’ ‘Signs of Life,’  ‘Food and Other Phenomena,’ ‘All Life Shines,’ with the final section being ‘Romp It Up!.’ Each section builds to the more concentrated humor at the end. It’s fairly seasonal… In most of my poetry, I intersperse the light and the dark—which is life, right? It’s a combination. We have spring where there’s life and light, and then winter where we have the darker parts.” 

So how does the poetry in this collection speak to you? Why is this something that you were drawn towards, this tone that blends the light and dark? 

I enjoy humor. When I look at things, I see numerous sides to life’s situations. I like looking at the brighter, more humorous aspects of life. In this collection, I guess what speaks to me the most is its lightheartedness.  

Is that what you want your readers to take away, to focus more on the lighter side of life? 

You know, I do… In the beginning of my book, I include a quote by Hugh Sidey, an American journalist who died in 2005.  For me, his words encapsulate my book in a sentence or two:  “Above all else, go out with a sense of humor. It is needed armor. Joy in one’s heart and some laughter on one’s lips is a sign that the person down deep has a pretty good grasp of life.” That pretty much sums it up. If we can look at the brighter side, see the positive elements of things, that’s the takeaway. 

I hear you’re donating part of the proceeds from presales of the book towards the Confluence Arts Center. Why did you choose to do that?  

The Eau Claire Regional Arts Center/State Theatre has always been dear to my heart. It feels like part of my essence. When I was the interim director in 2007, we discussed expansion of the Arts Center or the possibility of building a new one.  Way back, the seeds of renewal had been planted. I find it really exciting to see the progress of the Confluence Project, to have watched them break ground. Eau Claire is such a beautiful city, a river town.  The Confluence Project, along with the new Confluence Arts Center, will bring revitalization and will showcase the area's beauty and rich history.   

So I know this is a bit premature to ask because you’re still in the publishing stage of this book, but do you already have an idea of what you’d like to do next? 

I am shopping around a new children’s book.  Recently, a small Minnesota press rejected it. The editors were so gracious.  They said they wished they could publish it, but with full-color illustrations it wasn't cost-effective for them. They also suggested other publishers I might pursue for my manuscript. I thought that was pretty nice, because not all publishers do that.  And I do have two new chapbooks that I have out to editors for possible publication, so yeah, I’m always working on something, and it never stops. 

What does that feel like – always putting your work out there and never really knowing what’s going to stick? How do you deal with that as a writer? 

I guess it’s just a process. Rejections are part of being a writer, and I’ve just become so immune to them. You don’t always get acceptances.  When rejections arrive, ‘Oh, okay, they rejected me, on to the next.’ I always have that mindset… I’m always writing poetry, and sending my individual poems to editors, and online journals, and to anthologies. Usually, I send out ten or more poems a month to different journals and magazines. There’s always activity, you know? And sometimes I’d like to stop the activity and just take a break, but that’s just not part of my personality… I live in the moment, but I would be living more in the moment if I didn’t have so many projects on my plate! But when you’re creative, as writers and artists know, that’s just how it is. You’ve got a bouquet of ideas in your head, and you have to figure out how to piece them all together. 

Is there a big dream project that you’ve always wanted to take on, that you’re working towards? Or do you just take your projects as they come to you? 

That’s a good question… It would be nice to have a big-name publisher pick up my poetry manuscripts.  Though, the bigger publishers are usually more interested in writers with an MFA degree in creative writing, those who are creative writing professors. I have an MA and have taught, but have not instructed at the university level. Beyond the big dream project, I guess I've always wanted to go back to school to further my education, to earn an MFA and even a PhD, to teach in a university, to be able to promote my books nationally, and to do poetry readings at larger venues.  However, at my age, I don’t see that happening because I’m realistic that way… But you asked about a dream, and that’s usually pie in the sky stuff, right?  So that’s what it would be for me.  

Dispatches from the Wild: On Writing, Trail Work, and Falling in Love with the Challenge

Rebekah Morrisson

by Rebekah Morrisson

I am a trail worker. When I tell people that, I’m sure they imagine me emerging at dawn from a rustic cabin with sturdy boots, a flannel shirt, and suspenders. I take a sip of strong black coffee from a mug I carved out of a nearby oak as the animals frolic over to greet me. The smell of sap and morning dew sits in the air around us… Okay, okay, maybe they don’t imagine a lumberjack Snow White, per se, but whatever they do imagine isn’t quite what I and thousands of other trail workers experience season after season. We are dedicated outdoorsmen who wake up early to repair, create, or maintain the trails we all enjoy.

Trail work is tough. Let me repeat that: trail work is tough. It’s rugged. And it’s different wherever you do it. I’ve spent four seasons and 17 months doing trail work with the Maine Conservation Corps and California Conservation Corps, and nine of those I spent as a team leader. I’ve felled trees with a crosscut saw, slept wrapped in a tarp out under the stars, and lived in the backcountry without technology for three and a half months. There are other trail crews nationwide and some help eradicate invasive plants, some live deep in the woods, and some drive to a trailhead every day. They work through rain and snow and freezing temperatures because they’re committed and, for the most part, they like the work.

I used to think, as I assume most people do, that trails were formed by mere foot traffic. After all, prior to my time with the conservation corps, I’d never run into a crew rolling rocks, creating a reroute, or hauling tree trimmings off into the woods. Now, I know better. It’s been my life for a few years and I’ve fallen in love with it. The physical challenge of straining my muscles for nine hours a day at high altitude is rewarding, if you can believe it. Sure, there are times when I’ve thought about quitting but feeling myself grow stronger, hike faster, and learn more and more about the natural world are just a few of the reasons I’ve stayed in this line of work.

In 2014, I graduated from the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire with a focus on creative writing. Since then, I’ve been working out how to explain my experience in the woods through my words. In my first eight months doing trails, I wrote every day. Usually in my tent after everyone else had gone to bed, but occasionally on lunch breaks and after hammock naps on the weekends. Most of it was in letters to my mother about the things I’d seen and done and felt. I wanted to share my experience with people beyond my trail crews, to invite my family and friends to be transported to the moments I was experiencing. It seemed only natural.

There has long been a link between nature and writing. For proof, we need only read the works of authors like John Muir, Henry David Thoreau, Edward Abbey, Rick Bass, and Terry Tempest Williams—all of whom have long explored how woods and words go together. Sometimes a person's words can affect the preservation of nature and other times nature can move someone to words. In a way, my trail work helps hikers create an experience similar to mine and the pieces of experience they lack, I’m attempting to construct through my writing.

They’ve done it and so can I, but in describing anything foreign to someone, I know it will take a lot of effort. Writing is tough, sometimes as tough as trail work, but as I struggle to work on trails, I also struggle to write about it. I try to keep in mind that neither is rewarding without a struggle and the finished product is always better when I take my time with it. I’ve realized that if I simply explain how to hammer rocks to bits or what it’s like to eat trail mix every day for a week, my friends and family won’t understand the collective experience as I do. 

As a trail worker, not only are you sore and tired, but you scratch raw the four mosquito bites on your left leg, the two near your right elbow, and the bunch on the back of your neck. You’re annoyed at one of your teammates for crushing your last good step rock because now you’ll have to roll another one 30 feet up the trail. You rave about how great dinner was even though much of its “greatness” was a direct result of your hunger.

These are just a few short snippets of experiences I’ve had.  The others remain mostly indescribable. Though as difficult as both trail work and writing can be, I’ve found I’ve fallen in love with both.  And with a little more work and a little more time, I hope to one day have the words to give people a clear picture of what it’s like out here on the trail.

Finding the Strange Around You: Writing sci-fi and fantasy in the world outside your window

By Charles Payseur (above)

If there's one bit of writing advice that I've heard a lot, it's "write what you know." As a writer of science fiction and fantasy, people might think I just throw that tidbit out the airlock. But in some ways because I write science fiction and fantasy, my relationship with writing what I know is somewhat complicated, but no less real. The strange and luminous are not limited to far away planets or settings with dragons and wizards. There is magic all around us, and for those willing to look and imagine, there are stories there as well.

Now, this all is not to say that I don't like writing space operas and second world fantasies where the setting…doesn't really resemble Eau Claire, Wisconsin, or really any place I've lived. However, just because the stage is different doesn't mean that the experiences are galaxies apart. Feelings of isolation and longing that one experiences here, of being caught in between larger places as Eau Claire is caught between larger cities, are feelings that can easily be taken into almost any setting imaginable. Similarly, knowledge of rivers and farms and wineries and orchards is something that can inform almost any story, speculative or not. Some of my favorite stories take something achingly familiar and complicate it by setting it against a fantastical backdrop. Speculative fiction isn't so much an excuse to write the things that you don't know so much as an invitation to take what you know and take it out of its familiar context. Micro-breweries on Mars will feel more real if the writer knows a bit about micro-breweries first, and the Chippewa Valley offers a great many amazing places to gain some first-hand knowledge.

And that's not the only option. Bringing the strange and magical to Eau Claire or any other Wisconsin town can be fun and fascinating. Post-apocalyptic stories, for example, set here and written by people who know the area will feel more authentic than if a writer living in Wisconsin tried to imagine what the same post-apocalypse would look like in New York or California. Similarly, just because every superhero story seems to take place in a large city doesn't mean that a young person getting superpowers on a farm or in a smaller town in Wisconsin isn't interesting. Indeed, telling a more local story can be more personal and meaningful for writers surrounded by the world they're writing about because it gives them the chance to explore the issues and flavors that make their home unique, but in a way that is new and different, bold and speculative. Writers are tasked with combing through the possibilities of human experience and finding stories that will connect with and move their readers. This is no less true of speculative fiction writers--it's just that what is considered "possible" is greatly expanded. And with that added freedom, with all the nearly infinite options for setting and populating a story, sometimes it helps to start close to home.

And let's face it, the Chippewa Valley is a compelling setting, one with a diversity of peoples and perspectives and experiences and histories, all of which can lend to great sci-fi and fantasy. Want to tell a monster story about hodags rampaging through the downtown? Or about a troupe of local ghost hunters finding a bit more than they bargained for while checking out a haunted site in Chippewa Falls? Maybe Paul Bunyan is alive and well and actually a very good chainsaw artist? Or perhaps in an alternate history steamships fill the skies of the Wisconsin Territory in preparation for a very different War of 1812? 

The advice to "write what you know" is something I find very helpful, but only so far as it's not used as a chain, as a leash. Write what you know, yes, but also write what you don't know. Because in between the two is the gulf where art is made. Especially with science fiction and fantasy, there are countless worlds to explore, but that doesn't mean you should ignore the one just outside your window.

Bring on the Mass Hysteria: War of the Worlds reenactment set for Oct. 28

By Alison Wagener

We interrupt this blog post to bring you a special announcement: 

A team of writers, educators, and lovers of widespread panic have come together to recreate one of the most well-known radio broadcasts in American history. The group, spearheaded by BJ Hollars and UW-Eau Claire physics and astronomy professor Paul Thomas, will perform a live-action version of Orson Welles’ “War of the Worlds.”

The performance began as BJ’s idea to invite people to simply listen to a recording of the original 1938 broadcast. But Paul had other plans. 

"What I pitched back at him was that we'd actually do the radio show, not just listen to it,” Paul said. “And he typically enough said, 'Alright! Let's do it!'"

Orson Welles’ radio broadcast was intended as a modern day recreation of H.G. Wells’ 1898 science fiction novel War of the Worlds. The seasoned 23-year-old didn’t plan the show as a large-scale hoax, but simply as a Halloween episode of the American radio drama anthology series The Mercury Theatre on Air. The episode was broadcasted on CBS on October 30, 1938.

The October 28 reenactment will technically celebrate the 78th anniversary of Welles’ broadcast, almost to the day. But most people don’t know it was originally a Halloween show. 

“Orson Welles makes a joke at the end, as sort of a low-key joke,” Paul said. “He tries to diffuse the tension set up and he says, 'Well, this is the Mercury Theatre's equivalent of dressing up in a sheet and shouting boo.' So it was intentionally a Halloween show from the beginning.”

Welles presented the story as a live first-person account of what he thought was a large meteor striking the tiny town of Grovers Mill, New Jersey. But then, extraterrestrial beings emerged from metal canisters at the crash site. The increasingly panicked newscaster documented the night’s terror as the Martians attacked all surrounding humans with heat-ray guns and even killed a troop of 7,000 National Guardsmen.

The History Channel reports that the fictitious program caused widespread real-life consequences, causing listeners to flee from their homes, pray for their families, and in some extreme urban legends, take their own lives.

Perhaps as many as a million radio listeners believed that a real Martian invasion was underway. Panic broke out across the country. In New Jersey, terrified civilians jammed highways seeking to escape the alien marauders. People begged police for gas masks to save them from the toxic gas and asked electric companies to turn off the power so that the Martians wouldn’t see their lights. One woman ran into an Indianapolis church where evening services were being held and yelled, “New York has been destroyed! It’s the end of the world! Go home and prepare to die!”

But it’s likely that accounts such as this have been incredibly exaggerated. Slate reported in 2013 that major newspapers fabricated the hysteria, hoping to discredit radio as a credible news source. Either way, the broadcast had a lasting impact on American radio and skyrocketed Welles to critical success.

"I'm an astronomer who studies the planets, and for me, the Orson Welles radio show and the H.G. Wells novel that preceded it are landmark works,” Paul said, later adding, “Wells essentially mapped the history of imperialism onto what he thought was the most advanced technological civilization of the time, but was utterly powerless against the Martians. Orson Welles revamped that into a pre-Second World War version, where the power of the U.S. Army, Airforce, and all of our guns are totally insignificant.”

BJ has taken on the role of director, and rehearsals are well underway. Paul’s first step was to cast himself as Orson Welles, a role he has always dreamt of fulfilling.

"Playing a genius like Orson Welles is a real treat. I sort of hoped that sometime in my life I'd get a chance to do that,” Paul said. “I just didn't see how it would happen… I'm humbled and incredibly proud to be a tiny part of all this. It's just great. It's a hoot, it works dramatically, and doing it with BJ, that's just an even bigger thrill.”

The rest of the cast includes Rob Reid, a professor of education studies at UW-Eau Claire, Ken Szymanski and Jason Splichal, English teachers at South Middle School, and Debbie Brown, volunteer and event coordinator at WPR’s Eau Claire studio.

The performance will be held on Friday, October 28 at 7 p.m. at Volume One and will last for around 50 minutes. Before the show, resident Orson Welles expert Jim Rybicki will give a background on the filmmaker’s life and how the broadcast sent him to stardom.

Paul warned that public excitement for the event has been pretty high, but the Volume One gallery only holds around 30 people. Securing a seat might require showing up relatively early. Their plan is to allow guests to flow into the rest of the Volume One space and play the show over the speakers, giving the rest of the audience a true radio recreation. 

For those looking for a Halloween costume opportunity a few days early, attendees are eagerly invited to join the actors in dressing in 1930s garb. The cast will be dress in not only the get-up you would associate with those working at a radio station in 1938, but also the everyday outfits of the horrified characters their roles portray. Paul said he hopes acting out the drama so realistically will get to the heart of the iconic story: an account of destruction, fear, and helplessness at the precipice of colonization.

“We're gonna try to make it fresh. One of the reasons I wanted to do it—I mean you can't beat Orson Welles, you can't beat the Mercury Theatre—but I wanted to make it fresh and raw,” Paul said. “And every time we rehearse, that's what we're trying to aim for... It won't, I hope, seem familiar and easy to you. It'll seem a bit edgy. That's where we want to be, that's our goal.

We’re Starting a Journal!

Chippewa Valley Literary Journal Kick-Off Meeting; Thursday, October 27th; L.E. Phillips Memorial Public Library; 6:00 PM Pizza, 6:30 Meeting; Everyone is welcome! 

By Eric Rasmussen (above)

Supporting writers is not hard. Anyone can do it. Make sure your writer has enough food and water. Writers can get lonely during the day, so creating a community of writers will help them all thrive. You’ll need to brush your writer to avoid knots and excessive shedding. Occasional praise will also help your writer grow and succeed.

And, after meeting their basic needs, if at all possible, give them a place to publish their writing. They work very hard at it, many with the hope that they can share their words and ideas with the world.

The Chippewa Valley Writers’ Guild exists to support writers, which means it’s time to take that next step. We are going to publish some of your writing. With your help, we are starting a literary journal with a local focus. Its pages will be filled with fiction, nonfiction, and poetry from people with some connection to the Chippewa Valley, and we plan to work like the dickens to promote your work and provide something worthwhile to everyone – our submitters, the authors we publish, and the larger community.

We would be honored if you would help. We need everything. We need ideas, for the title (we like Barstow & Grand, but what about The Falsetto Woodsman?), for the submission guidelines, for the marketing and production and distribution, for all of it. We need people to read submissions and help edit the final product. We need your help spreading the word when submissions open, and most importantly, we need you to send in your work so we can fill issue #1 with the incredible quality we’ve seen over the past year.

Please join us on October 27th at 6:00 p.m. in the Eau Claire room at the L.E. Phillips Memorial Public Library for our Kick-Off Meeting and Planning Session. We’ll provide the pizza and soda if you provide your thoughts and opinions. Whether you’d like to be a part of the team that puts the journal together, or you have ideas you’d like to share, or you just want to hang with a bunch of folks about to embark on something cool, we’d love to have you.

There is nothing quite like the feeling of fostering a writer all the way through to maturity. By helping build an outlet for local creatives to publish their work, you can experience that feeling too.

Something for Everyone at the 2016 Chippewa Valley Book Festival

Lucie Amundsen will share stories of learning to raise chickens at the 2016 book festival.

By Chris Kondrasuk, CVBF marketing co-chair

Mysteries? Historical fiction? Nonfiction? I like them all, which is why I belong to three book clubs —and why the Chippewa Valley Book Festival is right up my alley. I can hear authors of all kinds of books right here in Eau Claire and the surrounding area. 

From this year's selection of authors, I’ve already read a mystery book (The Guise of Another by Allen Eskens), one whose main character is an early Chinese empress (The Moon in the Palace by Weina Dai Randel), one that takes place in the South (Mudbound by Hillary Jordan), and one about the influence of being born to a mother in prison (Prison Baby by Deborah Jiang-Stein).

And that’s just a few of the more than a dozen that will be presenting.

I love the chance to hear the authors talk about their works and what inspires them, and that's what the Chippewa Valley Book Festival is all about. Barbara Massaad will talk about refugees and Syria at a Lebanese-inspired dinner at the Altoona Country Club; Lucie Amundsen will share stories of learning to raise chickens and sell eggs at L.E. Phillips Memorial Public Library; poets Rita Mae Reese and Ron Wallace will share readings with us. I loved Sandy Tolan’s book The Lemon Tree: An Arab, a Jew, and the Heart of the Middle East, and now he will be here to talk about refugees and his latest book Children of the Stone: The Power of Music in a Hard Land. What a wealth of diversity! I try to attend as many sessions as possible.

In addition to author presentations, there are writing workshops and a panel on publishing. Programs are held around the Chippewa Valley, and everything other than meals and workshops are free to attend. I know that I want to attend the cooking demonstration of recipes from Barbara Massaad’s Soup for Syria which will be held at Forage. I could meet Jack Mitchell, one of the earliest employees of Wisconsin Public Radio, at a lunch at the Chippewa Valley Museum. And I definitely want to try chicken with freekeh, a Lebanese inspired dish, at the Eau Claire Country Club. Lebanese food in Eau Claire? This is a real opportunity! 

At the end of the festival, I’ll still have a pile of books to read, but I know I will already be looking forward to the next year’s authors.

And not to forget the children. There are writing workshops, authors in the schools, and even an opportunity for aspiring authors to read their own stories. I’ve been the host for visiting school authors in past book festivals, and it was a thoroughly enjoyable experience. The kids are so excited to meet the author of a favorite book.

If I’ve piqued your interest at all, details are available on our website, cvbookfest.org. The Book Festival will be held from October 10-20, and whether you live in Eau Claire, Bloomer, Chippewa Falls, Menomonie, Altoona, or any place in between, there should be a program that appeals to you.

Start your own pile of must-read books now!

10 Things I Learned at Cirenaica Last Summer

Local educator Ken Szymanski reads his work at the Cirenaica Writing for Radio residency

By Amy Renshaw

This summer, I had the pleasure of hanging out in a log cabin with a group of skillful nonfiction writers in a residency program organized by the Chippewa Valley Writers Guild. Over the course of a fun weekend, I learned a few things. 

1. It’s pronounced SEAR-IN-NAY-KUH. 

It means “siren of the sea,” according to fishermen from Uruguay. I’m not sure why the fishermen have a language that differs from people with other occupations, but I did feel pulled away from my mundane responsibilities to focus on writing. However you pronounce it, it’s an alluring concept.  

2. Everybody struggles with first drafts. 

Author and former UW-Eau Claire professor John Hildebrand shared early drafts from essayists E.B. White and George Orwell, and we compared them to the finished versions. Studying only perfected, final drafts is like trying to learn construction by only looking at finished houses, John said. The key is to keep working until you’ve built the best piece that you possibly can.  

3. Put more of yourself into your work. 

Nonfiction is telling the truth, but there are lots of ways to tell it. Bring in your own opinions, describe things in your own words, study photographs to get visual impressions, and make your work uniquely original. Even a biography that’s been told and retold dozens of times can take on new life with a fresh perspective.  

4. Provide interesting context. 

It’s the privilege of the storyteller or historian to be able to see the big picture. If your subject lived through wars, persecution, or social upheaval, spell it out. Talk about the location, culture, and setting of the story.  

5. Help readers to envision the characters. 

A few words describing each person who’s named in the piece can enable the reader to form a clear mental picture. If the person isn’t key to the story, don’t give a name. In a memoir or personal essay, remember that you’re a character, too. 

6. Recognize the value of feedback from others. 

Hearing what works and what doesn’t work from supportive people who care deeply about writing is immensely valuable. In addition to the group at the weekend residency, the Chippewa Valley Writers Guild website offers connections to writing groups in a variety of genres and styles. 

7. Read your stuff out loud. 

At Cirenaica, one evening featured a reading that was open to family and friends. Beforehand, UW-Eau Claire professor Allyson Loomis shared helpful tips. She suggested reading at a slower pace than usual, practicing ahead of time, and timing your performance (5-7 minutes was the target length that evening). Allyson also encouraged including a “potato chip”—one tasty idea that makes the audience think or laugh. 

8. Less is more. 

Most writers were urged to consider cutting out early pages or paragraphs, or even chopping off the ending, to focus on the compelling action in our stories. Preparing for the reading on Saturday night was a useful exercise in trimming the excess.   

9. It’s never too late to start. 

Some members of our group were from the retired set, and their stories were fresh and appealing (one person wrote about riding a bike around his Oahu neighborhood during the Pearl Harbor attack in 1941). We all have memorable experiences that others will enjoy hearing about.  

10. Cold oatmeal tastes a lot better than it sounds. 

Seriously. Mix uncooked oatmeal with milk, yogurt, fruit, and nuts, and put it in the fridge overnight. It could fuel your genius.

7 Questions with Jon Loomis

Photo: Volume One Magazine 

By Alison Wagener

Jon Loomis wants you to know that happiness is fleeting. But not to worry – in a few short days, you can simultaneously bask in the moment, look nostalgically upon your past, and celebrate your own impending and unavoidable death while reading his latest book of poems, The Mansion of Happiness. To preview his upcoming release, I sat down with Jon (albeit 300 miles apart and via email) to talk about writing, happiness, and the man behind the mansion.

Q: From the poems I've seen from your collection, you've spanned quite a lot of topics and themes, from sandhill cranes to suicide, from Reagan masks to Thanksgiving. For you, what - if anything - ties these poems together?

A: The human condition.  Which is to say, this book is a love song for the present, in which we are reasonably happy—or at least not suicidal—and not terribly unwell, and the children are doing okay and we’re maybe even, at this point in our lives, almost prosperous, but what’s looming on the horizon is not good, at all.  It’s global warming and ocean acidification and Zika virus and Donald Trump and heart disease, and all the horrors of our age bearing down on us.  So enjoy the moment, because it won’t last, and what’s trailing along behind it is going to suck, and if you’re lucky you’ll die before it gets here.  So it’s a cheerful book, is what I’m saying, about the nature of happiness, and what a fragile construction that can be.  

Q: Who would you say you write for?

A: About 20 years ago I was running a reading series on Cape Cod, and the first or second week of the series we had two very famous and engaging readers—a poet and a memoirist.  And just as I’m about to shut the doors and go do the introductions, a big silver Cadillac pulls into the parking lot and a guy jumps out.  He’s kind of stocky and he’s dressed for the golf course, circa 1978—plaid pants, white belt, white shoes—the full Cleveland, pretty much, and he’s smoking a big cigar.  And he asks me who’s reading that night, so I tell him.  And he says, “Are you sure?  I thought I read in the paper that this guy Jon Loomis was reading.  I’ve been following his work and it really gets to me."  And I said, sorry, no—it’s a famous and dynamic poet and memoirist—should be a great reading.  And he thinks for a second and says, “Nah,” and gets back in his car and drives away.  And I realized that he was my audience—the man in the white belt.  And he was not a guy who would put up with any bullshit.  So that’s who I write for, pretty much—smart people who may not be academics or other poets.  Not that there’s anything wrong with poets and academics—I just don’t care as much about whether they like my work.    

Q: How would you describe The Mansion of Happiness in one sentence?

A: It’s a cheerful book about the nature of happiness.  And death.  Two sentences—sorry. 

Q: Why did you feel compelled to write this collection?

A: After my first two books of poems came out, I spent about eight years writing novels, which is a very different kind of work.  But all during that time I knew I wanted to go back to poetry at some point.  Long form fiction is hard—it requires lengthy stretches of one’s full attention—you have to keep the whole thing in your head, and there are a lot of moving parts—and I found that after three novels I was kind of exhausted by the process.  Poems are hard, too—they’re fussier in their obsessions—but you can work on them in shorter bursts.  Perfect for someone like me, who has terrible adult ADD.

Q: Mortality is at the forefront of many of your poems, but your tone towards the subject shifts a lot throughout the collection: the feeling of desperation in "Sandhill Cranes in Migration," the blind optimism of "Thanksgiving," and the solemn peacefulness of "If I Come Back." What was your reasoning in presenting these different approaches? 

A: Well, I’m not sure I’d call “Thanksgiving” an optimistic poem—those white sails are headed our way.  But yeah—I think as a whole the collection is pretty dark, though that gets mixed up with a certain amount of manic hilarity at times.  It’s about doing the police in different voices.  Bonus points if you get the reference.

Q: Out of the collection, would you say you have a favorite poem? Which one, and why?

A: I’m not sure I have a favorite.  My wife likes “When the Rapture Came,” which works for me.

Q: What do you want your readers to take away from The Mansion of Happiness?

A: Attention to the moment.  A brief period of putting down your phone, maybe, and seeing what’s around you.  Being happy with what you’ve got, because it’s probably not going to get any better than this.  A blend of appreciation and moderate pessimism, I guess.

Mark your calendars! Author Jon Loomis will be hosting a reading and book release for The Mansion of Happiness at the Volume One Gallery on Sept. 16 at 7 p.m. More details about the event can be found here. If you miss the release, be sure to pick up a copy at The Local Store or the UW-Eau Claire bookstore. 

For more information about Jon Loomis and The Mansion of Happiness, please see these two wonderful articles published by Volume One and the Leader-Telegram.

Spotlight: Writing For Radio at Cirenaica

On the final day of the Writers Guild's "Writing for Radio" residency, Nick Meyer, Andy Patrie, Scott Morfitt, Jason Spraitz and B.J. Hollars sat down to reflect on their time together.  Click above to have a listen to their informal thoughts on what it means to write for the ear.

(Thanks to Lobo Loco for the music!)

Please Take a Short (Yet Very Important) Survey!

As we come to the close of the Chippewa Valley Writers Guild’s inaugural season, it’s time to hear from you!  How can we make this Guild YOUR Guild? How can we better provide you the resources needed to support your own writing?

Please take two minutes to fill out the survey below.  Be on the ground floor of helping us make the Guild great!

Spotlight: Sarah Lou Richards On Songwriting

Sarah Lou Richards

By BJ Hollars

I first meet Sarah Lou Richards on a rainy night in August.  She’s scheduled to play the Sounds like Summer Concert series, though given the uncooperative weather, is forced to cut the show short.  

Concertgoers pack up all around me, squeezing the water from their drenched blankets as they head back toward their cars.  But since my family and I are already soaked beyond saving, we take our time, and in our casualness, eventually make our way toward Sarah Lou.  

I introduce myself, tell her how much I enjoyed her music, and mention how great it would be to have her drop by one of my creative writing classes some time if it ever fit her schedule.

“Of course!” she says.

“Really?” I say.  

And then, a few months later, she makes good on it. 

The following April I meet Sarah Lou for the second time.  She’s riding out more miserable weather, this time in the visitor’s parking lot hut on the UW-Eau Claire campus.

She is unmistakable in her red-rimmed glasses, her leather boots, her guitar case slung over her shoulder. 

“Hey there,” I say, nodding to the hut.  “I see you’ve found our green room.”

“I’ll take it,” she laughs.

We thread through the swarms of students until making our way to my office.

“So you’re on tour?” I ask.

“I am,” she agrees.  “But I’m also helping my dad.  He just bought a new house in Menomonie, so today I’ve spent most of the day sanding boards and painting bathrooms, that sort of thing.”

“The glamorous rock star life,” I joke.

Sarah Lou offers a warm, Midwestern smile, one that reminds me that when she’s not busy being a rock star she’s busy being a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a fiancé, a friend, and today, my visiting lecturer. 

“So you graduated from here a few years ago?” I ask as we settle into my office.

“Yup, exactly.  I can’t really remember the year,” she says wryly.  “We won’t talk about that.”

What we do know—minus her exact graduation year—is that she studied to become a music teacher.  Though after a fortuitous visit to Nashville, she decided to try a new path: packing her bags and moving to Music City in August of 2007.

“I was totally taken by it,” she says of Nashville.  “I didn’t play guitar and I hadn’t written any songs yet, [but] I learned very quickly that Nashville is definitely a songwriting city, so I just kind of scrambled and started to make it happen.”

“So you were kind of just ‘driven by the dream’ so to speak?”

“Yup.”

“And never looked back?”

“Nope, definitely not.”

Admittedly, I’m more than a little inspired.  So many dream big, and yet putting oneself in a position to achieve those dreams is often easier said than done.  But not for Sarah Lou.  Rather than put her dream on hold she made it her priority, and after eight years of doing odd jobs in addition to her music, at last, music’s her job.

“Most months I can pay my electric bill,” she jokes.

Though it hasn’t been easy, the journey has been a joy.  And her music (which she describes as “folk Americana, with some country roots”) has benefited from that journey.

“It’s a lot of storytelling,” she says of her lyrics, “pretty relatable stuff.  And I definitely take a lot from my own life and the lives of those around me.”

Which means many of her songs are deeply personal, which can be complicated, she explains, when collaborating with others.

“It took me a really long time to find a collaborating partner,” she tells me.  “Nashville is really big on co-writing, which is awesome, but a lot of times its totally a cold call.  You just walk into a room with somebody you’ve never met and sit down and write a song.  And in that aspect, that’s how songwriting is just like any other job: you go and you do your job.  But for me,” she continues, “that’s been kind of tricky because it’s so personal.  Sometimes its scary because things come out that are really honest, and you know that listeners, even if you’re writing about something that’s not about your own life, that’s how it’s heard.  That can be intimidating—to be that brave, that honest.”

But it’s that honesty, I reason, that allows for relatability as well.   

Later that afternoon, she’ll encourage my students to interpret a few of her songs.

What do the lyrics mean to you? she’ll ask.

The students will offer their interpretations, Sarah Lou will nod, and then, she’ll provide insight into her true intentions.  Not that she necessarily has a preferred interpretation of her music.

“If [a song’s] received exactly as you intended, there’s something rewarding about being that clear,” she tells me.  “But it’s also really special if something totally different is taken from it.”

Connecting with listeners, Sarah Lou explains, is what matters most.

As we wrap up our conversation, I ask her to tell me about the highs and lows of being a musician in Nashville.  “Do you get a little of both?”

“Well I don’t think we have time for all the low moments,” she grins and then proceeds to tell me her high moment.

It occurred on her second day in Nashville.  After a full afternoon of unpacking in the sweltering August heat, Sarah Lou, her father, and her friend, took a break to visit some of the better-known music hot spots the city has to offer. 

“Let’s just pop into the Ryman,” Sarah Lou suggested—the home to the Grand Ole Opry from 1943 to 1974.  Hailed as the “Mother Church of Country Music”, one look at the expansive auditorium explains why: it indeed resembles a church, complete with stained glass windows filtering colored beams upon the 2600 seats below. 

“They had a recording booth in there where you could do, for 15.00, basically a glorified karaoke track,” Sarah Lou explains.  “So I did two Patsy Cline songs, and as we were leaving some guy came up to me, and he was holding a guitar, and he said, ‘I just heard you recording. Why don’t you get on stage?’  And so I sang ‘Walking After Midnight’ on the Grand Ole Opry stage on the second day I lived in Nashville.”

I shake my head.

“Sometimes life just conspires on your behalf.”

“Right.  And to have my dad there, you know?  It was a really good sign,” she smiles, “that I had made the right move.”

Michael Perry on Saying Yes, Climbing Mountains, and Literary Solitaire

Michael Perry at the L.E. Phillips Memorial Public Library (May 7, 2016)

By Ken Szymanski

Mike Perry’s level of success can’t be reached by listening to a speech. Still, the L.E. Phillips Memorial Public Library basement was packed with aspiring writers for his May 7 keynote address for the Chippewa Valley Writer's Guild, all us hoping to catch some tips that might provide the elusive secret. 

Anyone who’s reading this knows the Mike Perry story. His success has been a blend of natural born talent and farm boy work ethic, combined with the ability to work a crowd on a book tour stops. Plus, his books often cover the right topics at the right times. Simple, right? Hardly. But he did reveal a simple word important to aspiring writers.

Perry said that being a successful freelance writer starts with saying yes. When agent called and asked if he’d be willing to climb up Mount Rainier for a story, he faked a confident “Yes.” And saying yes over and over has led to opportunities that provide a more exciting angle to writing than simply sitting at the keyboard. “Writing is a means to adventure,” he said, showing slides of mountain top views.

Once on assignments, he stressed the importance of observation (“You have to be the five senses for the reader”) and veracity (it wouldn’t be a Perry if he didn’t send some of us to the dictionary at least once). Nonfiction writers depend on the reader’s trust. It cannot be broken. 

One audience member asked how to deal with having so many job-related writing obligations, that she had little time left to do the writing she really wants to do. 

While writers dream of having months to devote to a project, Perry said that can be actually be counter-productive. Put in that situation, writers can auger down rather than gain traction. Conversely, the brain can spark a lot of ideas while doing other things. Tasks such as chores, mundane writing assignments, firefighting calls, etc. can give the brain a needed break or stimulus for the creative project. Sounds like part of the trick, for busy people, is to learn how to work on your writing when you’re not working on your writing. 

But for those who like to talk about how writing is such tough work, Perry offered some relief. His brother is a logger up north. If writing is so hard, Perry said, try logging with him. “I’m sure we could arrange a sabbatical for ya,” he said, drawing a good laugh from the crowd.  

That’s classic Perry. He loves talking about the craft of writing, but he never gets mystical. He mentioned that his muse is the guy at the bank who holds his mortgage. He writes to put food on the table for his family. It’s simply about observing, writing down observations, typing them up, printing them, cutting up those observations and laying scraps all over giant tables, and finding connections. Simple, right?

Sometimes it’s what Perry called “word jazz” and other times, he said, “It’s like a desperate game of literary solitaire.” 

Literary solitaire: that sums it up the writing process as well as anything. It can be frustrating, success can be elusive, but if you stay up late enough and play long enough, eventually you’ll win one. 

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Check out some photos from Perry's keynotE

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Widening the World (and Learning New Words Along the Way)

By Katie Allan

Growing up in a snow globe town makes you appreciate quaint neighborhoods, countryside, the hundred-or-so people who make up your world, and…well, snow.

And plenty of other things. It takes roughly one radio song to drive the length of my Wisconsin hometown. If you were passing through town during the 90s, and happened to glance up through a smudgy school bus window, you might’ve glimpsed a day-dreamy kid with grass-hopper legs, a kitten shirt, and bangs long enough to tickle her eyelids. She’d have been reading a library book. 

There was something special about that 45-minute commute to school twice a day, where my imagination sucked up stories like superfood. Because cute as snow globe towns are, sooner or later you start flicking pine cones at the glass out of curiosity. You learn about earth on the other side of rural Dairyland. I blame books, mostly. A few teachers. And definitely my parents. 

But just knowing about faraway places isn’t enough. You have to see something out there that’s worth leaving home for. Some folks see mountains calling, others see cities, careers, Beyoncé, the ocean, education, real Chinese food, kinder climates…I don’t know what I first saw. 

But a different window comes to mind, marginally less-smudgy, and 35,000 above the ground. I was nineteen and watching the rivers and village-speckled mountains shrink out of sight as I left Guatemala behind. I had a pile of hand-drawn pictures and cards in my lap; parting tokens from the girls of a Mayan village school.  I was wondering how a foreign country could feel so much like home after fourteen days, and if that was normal. 

Since that initial glimpse, I’ve returned four times to Guatemala. I’ve lived with a Guatemalan family and worked with a nonprofit called Mission Impact for nearly two years. I worked from the communication office, the Mayan girl’s school in a mountain town, and translated in the field for teams. I also spent five months in a training program called GoInternational.tv in Ecuador. There are a lot of stories I now carry around, wedged in my mind. 

But since returning to the U.S. a few months ago, I still haven’t figured out how to translate them all into writing; I’m lacking words. But a miraculous thing about learning a new language is you acquire new words. So I’ve come across a couple in Spanish (*Spain-Spanish, not Guatemalan-Spanish), and one in Greek that echo things I encountered while living in Central and South America.

*Querencia – (n.) a place from which one’s strength is drawn, where one feels at home, the place where you are your most authentic self (Spanish). [kɛˈrɛnsɪə].

*Sobremesa – (n.) The time spent around the table after lunch or dinner, talking to the people you shared the meal with; time to digest and savor both food and friendship (Spanish) [sO-bRe-‘mA-sa].

*Convivencia – (n.) lit. “living together”, in the sense of living or working closely with other people with whom you share feelings, desires, or common purpose (Spanish) [con-vi-‘ven-sE-a].

*Meraki (μεράκι) – (n.) The soul, creativity, or love put into something; the essence of yourself that is put into your work (Greek) [mA-‘rak-E].

****All words and definitions come from the blog Other Wordly compiled by an awesome gal named Yee-Lum. Check it out at http://other-wordly.tumblr.com/ 

These aren’t words I’d use in a sentence. But just knowing they exist and that someone else has felt them before is somehow amazing. 

I’m no longer in my small Wisconsin town, but in Seattle. It’s funny how in a way each city seems like a snow globe (size and snow variable); they’re unique, condensed collections of people, landscape, history and evolving culture. Sometimes the real challenge is to seek out adventure right where we are – to find wonder and humor and purpose in the places we live and work. 

But if you’ve never left the place you were born, and you’re still captivated by what could be on the other side of the glass, it could be time to seek new worlds elsewhere. To stand from a different vantage point and look back at the glass sphere of home. Like the first men on the moon looking back at the blue globe of earth, maybe you’ll find it all the more beautiful from afar. Or maybe you’ll choose to make your home somewhere new. 

Certain goldfish grow in accordance to how big their bowl is. I imagine it would be uncomfortable otherwise; they wouldn’t fit. We have to grow, learn and adapt in order to dive into a new environment where we don’t know the culture, language, systems, and rules of the kingdom.

But there are also new flavors and scents and sights and wonders. Blurry, nameless faces sharpen into friends, and there’s a lot of joking around, but also moments when you see someone, really see them, and realize they see you too. And one day, all that background noise and gibberish around you begins to sound like words. 

Spotlight: Drs. Audrey Fessler and Jeff Vahlbusch

Jeff Vahlbusch and Audrey Fessler

By B.J. Hollars

No entry-level creative writing classroom is complete without a reading of Billy Collins’ “Introduction to Poetry”, a poem that pleads with students to simply let poems be.  

Admittedly, it’s a task easier said than done, especially when so much of students’ educational lives now involves synthesis, analysis and deconstructing a thing into its simplest parts.  By poem’s end, the resigned narrator laments that despite his pleas, readers will likely still tend to beat poems “with a hose / to find out what it really means.” 

Yet what happens when we allow meaning to take a back seat to musicality?

For a decade now, Drs. Audrey Fessler and Jeff Vahlbusch have been doing just that, organizing the International Poetry Reading—a one evening event each spring dedicated to encouraging community members to recite poems in languages from across the world.  And that’s the beauty of the event: a chance to appreciate the sound of diverse languages, as well as to honor the cultures of the people who speak them.  

The impetus for the International Poetry Reading began long ago, during Jeff and Audrey’s time as junior faculty members at Washington College in Chestertown, Maryland.  

“It was a small college, it was a small event, and it lasted for an hour, maybe an hour and a half, “Jeff remembers.  “Perhaps 20 people read in five or six or seven languages.  We loved it, we thought it was magical.”

“And then we arrived here at UW-Eau Claire,” Audrey continues, “and thought, ‘This would be a wonderful kind of gift and tradition perhaps we could institute here.”   

In 2006, Jeff and Audrey organized the very first International Poetry Reading here in Eau Claire.  They kept expectations low, hoping for five or six languages to be represented.  They were shocked to find the reality far exceeded their expectation: no fewer than 30 languages were represented. 

“We were blown away,” Audrey says.  “We just barely made it into our little two hour allocation of time."

They not only exceeded their expectation in terms of participants, but in terms of audience members as well, so much so that folding doors were soon spread wide to make room for overflow rooms. 

“Our startlement and joy at the initial community response has kept us motivated for a long time to continue,” Audrey notes.

“Have there been any moments that really stand out in your mind?” I ask.  “After all the poems you’ve heard and all the languages, what really resonates with you two?”

“The ones that have hit home for me, often, are when you expect someone to read and they sing,” Jeff says.  “Where you expect someone to read and they chant.”

He goes on to describe an instance in which a woman from Cambodia leaned into the microphone, informing the audience that in her country they don’t read poems, they sing them.

“And she stepped back from the microphone and in a crystal clear, little but incredibly impressive voice she sang for four minutes,” Jeff says, his eyes glossing over in memory, “and it was evocative, amazing, and wonderful.  And it brought down the house.”  

Audrey adds that for her, the most memorable moment involved being “plunged into silence.”  

“At this event people listen with all their might because they’re hearing languages they’ve never had the opportunity to hear before,” she explains.  “They’re hearing sounds that they might not have known the human voice was capable of making.”

After 45 minutes or so of intense listening, all sounds were momentarily silenced as a reader shared a poem in American Sign Language.

 “Suddenly there was nothing there for most audience members’ ears,” Audrey explains, “but there was this beautiful body in motion of poetry that had so much eloquence and grace and perfect intelligibility to audience members…” 

Of course, moments such as these don’t just happen; they require lots of work.  And for the past decade, Jeff and Audrey have dedicated hundreds of hours each year to their effort.  There are a range of duties to be fulfilled, though perhaps most complicated of all is creating a booklet which allows audience members to read each poem both in its original language as well as translated into English. 

“There’s an awful lot of work to do in just putting together the book,” Vahlbusch says, “…formatting all of these different scripts and languages—some of which our computers can’t handle—is a very, very exciting kind of work.”  

“So how has the International Poetry Reading contributed to the Chippewa Valley?” I ask.

“One thing we have thought for years,” Jeff explains, “is that this is an event in which we in the Chippewa Valley get to see what an amazingly diverse place we actually are, and how many different people’s languages and traditions, ethnicities and races, come together in this small spot in Wisconsin to live together.”

He’s right, and were it not for events such as this, perhaps we’d never stop to notice the depth and range of our community.  

Art often finds a way to bring people together, I think, and in this instance, the collision of poetry and culture seems to do just that, as well as instilling a deeper affection and appreciation for the place that we call home.       

I’d hate to lose such an event, and when I ask Audrey and Jeff if it’s really over, Audrey says, “We would like it not to be the end. It has certainly been a great labor of love for us both.”  

She goes on to say she’s hopeful that someone else might be willing to carry it on for a while.

“Free training,” Jeff says with a smile.

“And a ton of gratitude,” Audrey adds.  

This year, the tenth International Poetry Festival will be from 7:00-9:00p.m. on Wednesday, May 4 in the Ojibwe Grand Ballroom in the Davies Center on the UW-Eau Claire campus.

If it is, indeed, the last chance we have to come together in this way, be sure to clean out your ears, listen carefully, and savor as much as you can.

***

Music courtesy of Lulzacruza

The Straight Line Lie

Debbie Campbell

By Debbie Campbell

Last week, I’m having coffee with an old friend. We’re splitting a blueberry muffin and she’s telling me what it’s like to be a mom. We’re mid-laugh in conversation when she stops abruptly and says, “I just thought I’d have it figured out by now.” For her, figured out means the marriage thing. But whether it’s the marriage thing or the career thing or any other thing, somehow the people I care about most all seem to think they should be someplace else by now. Writing can feel this way, too. Maybe it’s the novel you said you would write by fifteen—I had lofty childhood goals—or the poem that, no matter how many times you go to write it, refuses to assemble into something meaningful.

When I was a little girl, I kept quotes in sloppy handwriting in notebooks with moons on the front. I caught caterpillars in my parents’ little garden while they planted tomatoes and green beans. I would stand on the wooden garden gate and silently recite my favorite quotes, eyes closed, soft caterpillar feet almost indistinguishable from the small hairs on my arms. My absolute favorite was from Helen Keller: “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.”

In 2010, I graduated from a midsized Midwestern university, our very own UWEC. If you had asked me then, I would have told you adventure was Japan—the green grassy hill flooded with unfamiliarly large dragonflies, the young students I taught English phrases to through silly songs and program-approved drills. I would have said adventure was teaching yoga at local churches, or applying to MFA programs. If you had asked me then, I wouldn’t have, in the faintest, imagined adventure could soon mean teaching at my alma mater.

There’s an image I keep seeing recycled on social media. It says “Success” across the top. On the left of the picture, an arrow, a straight line. Below that straight-lined arrow, it reads, “what people think it looks like.” On the right, another arrow, this one a twisty turny mess. This one reads, “what it really looks like.”

Maybe this image keeps grabbing my attention because it speaks to my experiences both with writing and with teaching. Like I said, as short a time ago as 2010, the idea of teaching at UWEC would have been like a fever dream, something unattainable or unthinkable. I’m not sure anything has ever felt as strange or as exhilarating as having teachers I admired as a student become my colleagues. And it wasn’t a straight line from childhood to here, or even student to teacher at UWEC. It was a messy road I grew to love that led me here.

Writing is like that, too. That poem I’ve been struggling to assemble…well, it might not have come to fruition, but each time I sit down to write it, something messy and wonderful happens. I start with what I think will help me figure it out, take me on a straight line to my destination. Each time, every time, by the end of a mad hours-long writing session, I’ll have begun several other poems or maybe a novel. It won’t be the elusive poem I set out to write, but it might just be better, all of this surprising idea material that arises from the mess. And any writer knows, half the fun is being surprised.

There’s another favorite quote from my little girl days. It’s from an Emily Dickinson poem: “Not knowing when the Dawn will come, I open every Door…” To me, it reminds me to embrace the mess, the adventure. It reminds me that, while some days I feel like I should be someplace else by now, life, like most good writing, does not happen in a straight line.

5 Tips for Starting a Writers Group

In theory, starting a writing group should be pretty straightforward: find some writers, put them in a room, brew some coffee, and let the magic begin.  But even within this simplified model, there are complications, such as: What people?  What room?  Decaf or caffeinated?  

Below are five tips to make your fledgling writers group a great success.

1. Finding Your People. 

It’s not easy to find writers.  Sure, we’re everywhere, but it can feel a little awkward to walk up to a stranger in a bookstore and ask if they want to form a group.  The CVWG’s “Directory” is an attempt to avoid that awkwardness, and it’s one place to begin your search.   Keep in mind that the Guild does not have the resources to personally vet each individual group, but the assumption is that each “open” group is willing to meet prospective members with a potential to welcome them into the group.  Admittedly, this, too, can feel a little awkward.  Which is why sometimes rallying a group of friends (3-5 is a fine starting place!) and starting a new group that fits your needs is another way to get things going.   

2. Settling On Goals.

The success of a writers group hinges on finding people who share your goals.  Begin your early meetings by discussing just what your goals might be.  Do you want your group to serve as a place to workshop new work?  If so, what’s an appropriate number of pages to share, and how do you play to distribute the work?  More than anything, the sharing of work should always be equitable.  Group members loose steam when one person turns in a poem to be workshopped while another person turns in a book.  By settling on a few basic goals (What do we want to achieve?  How will our meetings run?  How many pages do we plan to share?  How will we distribute the work) can go a long way to ensure that the expectations are clear for all involved.

3. Maintaining A Schedule. 

We all live busy lives, and it can be tough to squeeze in even an hour or two a month for a writers group to meet.  Perhaps the best way to find a schedule that works is to set upon a specific time each month (the second Tuesday, for instance) and then stick to that schedule as best as you can.  Things always come up, of course, but if you can make your writers group adhere to a routine, then your group will benefit as a result of the stability.  Schedule early, block out the time on your calendar, and reserve a brief moment in your life for your art and the art of others.  

4. Providing Useful Feedback. 

Not all writers group will follow the “workshop” model of sharing work and offering feedback.  Some groups, for instance, might simply benefit by the social engagement or support provided by the group setting.  However, for those who do want to provide substantive feedback on work, take some time to decide the group’s comfort level.  You can develop your group’s “tone” or “vibe” by having a candid conversation about the depth of feedback you’re comfortable giving and receiving.  Being mindful of the tenor of the room is crucial, and striking a balance between providing feedback that is simultaneously supportive, substantive, and specific, and can often go a long way.

5. Making It Your Own. 

The most successful writers groups don’t subscribe to the same rules as any other.  Rather, each group should feel comfortable forming its own culture for the benefit of the group.  Do what you want!  Have fun!  And if it starts to feel like a slog, it’s time to take stock of your current structure and adjust as necessary.  Keep in mind, however, that building a community takes time, and building a writing group, in particular, takes time and trust.  Be generous, be kind, be present, be helpful, and most of all, be inspired and be inspiring.