The Last Post

The title of this post makes it sound like it's a Western set on the open prairie at the end of the trail. Well, it sort of is. I've been blogging for over half a year because everyone in the world told me I should blog.

But the truth is, this method of communication doesn't feel right to me. I only have so much writing I can do in my life and I don't want to waste any more of it on trying to think up clever, insightful things to say on my blog so people will like me and think I'm funny and ultimately buy and read all my books.

I like writing poems much better. They give back to me.

But I think I gave it a good shot and I'm pleased about that and I feel honored to have gathered a loyal group of followers and other readers who dropped in from time to time. Please stay in touch--send me an email if you want or better yet, show up on my doorstep and come in for tea.

Because, besides writing poems and stories, I really like to have long, deep conversations with people about life and snow and flowers and dog poop and toenails and what the weather's going to be.

So call me a former blogger or just call me.

Poem for the Solstice

BLIZZARD

Every year I write about snow

and every year it surprises me.

If no snowflake is the same,

then certainly no blizzard is either.

How scary when hail pelts the windshield,

How charming snow is nestled on the bird feeder.

There are storms that catch you unaware.

In your nightgown you watch

flakes bigger than fists fly at the windows.

Know it will all melt, the ice,

the piles at the end of the driveway.

Even now it is moving toward liquid.

Know you will stand at the window again

watching green pulses push from the garden.

Just a picture

I'm busy grading papers and reading theses and trying to finish up everything so I can think about the solstice and the end of the year and all.

So here's a picture of me and a small rug I hooked for an event called BIRD X BIRD in which artists making art and donate a portion of it to a silent auction for the Audobon Society.

Last Image

The other night in class I had my students write the last image in their books. At this point most of them are only three or four chapters into their novels. I wrote my last image too. We pay so much attention to the beginning of books, as we should, that I think the end is often neglected. This is our last chance to give our readers a gift. We have traveled a long road with them and they deserve something memorable. We build these fictive worlds out of images--so I think that's where to start with the end. What image do you want to leave them with?

I was surprised by my image--a pair of tail light disappearing around a bend. Seemed very mundane and a little cliched. But then I had them all write scenes that lead up to their image and the scene I wrote pleased me and surprised me and felt right. And it led to the tail lights disappearing.

Also, I think it's exciting to have the ending to head toward. Even if it doesn't stay the ending. It has a kind of weight that can pull you along when you're struggling with the middle, etc.

So try it. Write an image that a novel can head toward and then aim at it. Might even be the first thing you write in a novel.