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Showing posts from September, 2013

Poetry WIN!

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I could play coy and effect a kind of sophisticated nonchalance, but we all know I do subtle about as well as our current Congress compromises. So, without further ado, I shall commence with the merriment, dances, and over-loud squees:



I won, I won, I won!

I entered a poetry contest sponsored by the Poetry Society of Colorado, and I won first place. The theme was "overcoming," so I submitted a poem about standing up to and eventually leaving an abusive partner. It's one of my very, very rare rhyming poems, and to be honest, I'm not even remotely a fan of poems that rhyme. Nonetheless, and in large part because the poem fit the theme so beautifully, I submitted it. 
Below is the winning poem. You can also read it on their website if you'd prefer. 
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Hatchling
My cage is in your bedroom
To keep my howls in check
But bitches might begin to bite
And chickens learn to peck



You tie my apron tighter
To keep me “safe and dry”
My waist’s too thick for them cheap tr…

Interview with the Poet, i.e., Me

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As I've mentioned somewhere or other, my poetry is featured in Fat Poets Speak: Voices of the Fat Poets' Society, a poetry anthology edited by my friend and mentor, Frannie Zellman. (And yes, I am a member of the Fat Poets' Society. Tremble with envy.) This is the only poetry book evuh devoted exclusively to exploring fatness and fat pride.  

Because one is the loneliest number, we're publishing with Pearlsong Press a followup book of fat pride poetry called  -- you guessed it -- Fat Poets Speak 2: Living and Loving Fatly. It's not available yet; you'll be the first to know when it is. 

Anyway, Frannie Zellman interviewed me about fat poetry, fatspiration (is too a word!), and cats. The interview is below. May you thoroughly, fattily enjoy. :)


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1. When did you write your first poem?  When did you write your first "fat" poem? I wrote my first real poem at the age of thirteen. It was an anti-Vietnam War sonnet. Yeah, Shakes…

Poetry Corner: "Stone Memories"

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Stone Memories

Within rocks lie Memories of plants, heat, And crushing pressure that Coaxed stone out of flexibility.
With just a pillow between us, their cragginess becomes a mattress, a garden of moss and ideas. My softness can flow like water, Carving with loving concern Canyons into questions, Rubble that sprinkles and roars Like stardust.
And maybe, when evening Soaks up afternoon, Rocks will sigh warmly and wetly and Remember the scent of green.

The Last Straw: A New Novella

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As promised, here's information on a new release by a new author. I have a serious soft spot in my heart for new authors who use novellas to help them dip their toes into the publishing pool. 

Here are some ways to show her some love and support while increasing your chances for loot, my faithful and beloved blog readers:

1. Go get her book (it's free for the next few days).
2. Comment on this blog post for a chance to win a $25 Amazon gift card. 
3. Visit her website or Facebook page or follow her on Twitter.

Without further ado, here's the info on this new author's new release. May we all enjoy!





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BLURB:  
Ally Tobin left New York after one too many bad dates, determined to rebuild a stable life and career as a private investigator in Silicon Valley. But when the man she knew as one name walks into her office with another, will her curiosity once again lead her to risk her heart?

The last thing Special Agent Jared Green needs is "secu…

Promotional Stuff and Us

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Oh, beloved blog readers, I adore you beyond belief. I thank you for reading this blog, for commenting, and for caring enough about my thoughts and activities to keep visiting. Special
thanks to those of you who have shared my blog and Twitter info; I'm honored every time you gimme some of that sugar.

In spite of all this, I don't labor under the delusion that I'll ever be a big-time, famous writer. I'm learning the tricks of self-promotion, and I'm doing a lot of it lately, but I have three major problems when it comes to such things: 1. I hate -- no, I mean super detest -- self-promoting; 2. With the advent of self-publishing and electronic book formats, which require almost no overhead costs, I am one in a billion writers out there. We're all flooded with self-promotions and free ebooks and such every day; we're in promotional overload in this consumerist culture; and 3. I don't think I'm writing in the right genre. I'll talk more about that l…

Why *Paranormal* Romance?

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Like Fox Mulder, I want to believe. I want to believe aliens have visited us and perhaps still live among us. I want to believe tortured vampires who barely remember the kiss of sunlight haunt the night. I want to believe astral projection is a perfectly reasonable and viable mode of travel. I want so much to believe. Unfortunately, I’m a social scientist, and I find belief in the supernatural a little hard to come by.
I grew up Pentecostal, a devout and, ahem, pretty fundamentalist sect of Protestant Christianity. Every Sunday, I heard about the dangers of demon possession, about sublime and miraculous angels, about a supreme being who knew my every thought. While it scared the pants off me, it also filled me with wonder. How rich a world we live in, with only half of it tangible!
Of course, this faith also taught me women shouldn’t wear pants or cut their hair, dancing is forbidden, and “the homosexual agenda” is a weapon aimed at your (doubtlessly straight) marriage bed. I have muc…

"It's Okay - I'm Fat, Too!": Well-Meaning Dismissals

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I recently read a blog article by the amazing Ragen Chastain, she of the Dances with Fat fame. She addresses a question that often arises when people like her, Frannie Zellman, writer Lauri J Owen, or I profess oneself a “fat activist,” “fat scholar,” “fat writer,” or, heck, even just “fat.”
I won’t go into her response or the politics of reclamation (or reappropriation in general) other than to say one of the first things groups do when forming and becoming politicized is to decide how to define themselves. One of the stops they make is considering what to do with the negative words used to marginalize them (all oppressed groups are verbally derided). Some groups choose to demonize the stigmatizing words, while others feel better reclaiming them. When a group reclaims the word as theirs, as a sign of solidarity rather than shame, they’re saying no one can ever use it against them again. As Ragen says, it’s “one of the ways that I tell the bullies they can’t have my lunch anymore.”
Som…

Thrilling Unveiling of My New Website

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Because it’s 3:30 am and I’m a tired monkey, this will be the briefest blog post I’ll ever write. Think of it as blog minimalism. Yeah, I’m artsy like that.
Anyway, I just renewed my web domain and revamped my website. I have zero web design skills, but I can click and drag. The result? An extremely basic, but still kind of cool, website. Like this blog post, it’s artsy minimalist.
If you’re free, I urge you to go take a gander. Have fun exploring!

Poetry Corner: "Diet Talk Blues"

I could be constructing PowerPoint slideshows for my Race and Ethnic Relations class... or I could be slapping together some videos of me performing my poetry. Guess which won out. 

Anyway, below is a video of me performing "Diet Talk Blues." The written version is below. I welcome all thoughts. 




The Diet Talk Blues
Come closer. I have a secret, A little chunk of my soul I severed and packaged just for you: See, I don’t give a shit about your Weight Watchers™. Couldn’t care less about Jenny Craig™. Your thinspiration? Caloric restriction? Decision not to eat biscuits for the past seventeen years? Your heroic escape from dieting and rebirth into a
“lifestyle change”? Yeah. Don’t care. Couldn’t pay me to care less (and that’s saying a lot, because I’m criminally cheap).
I don’t know if anyone’s ever sat you down and explained this. I’m a teacher, so I guess I’m elected. You know, as Southern women say, “bless your heart,” but nobody cares about your diet, your decision to eat, breathe, live depriva…

The Tithe: The Back Blurb

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Did I mention, dear readers, that I finally finished writing The Tithe? Pause for wild rejoicing. Yep, sometime last week I finished that sucker up at like 92K words. I have to say, I miss writing this novel; I'm actually grieving its loss. It's a weird writer thing. 

Now, I need to revise it twice -- once in-text and once printed out -- before sending it to my editor. Cross your fingers about that final part, since this novel is very different than any of the others I've written. In fact, it isn't until the latter half that romance becomes a major part of the story. I'm hoping, though, that my liberal piece de resistance can find a happy home at Soul Mate Publishing, since I like them so much. 

I decided to write The Tithe's back blurb, both because my editor demands one upon submission and because marketing can never start too early (grumble, grumble). Without further ado, here's the novel's back blurb. I welcome feedback.



“Every seven years, seven perso…