Where have you been, Bethany?

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I have been working on taking deep breaths that go all the way down through my toes and back up through the crown of my head.

I have been reading poems because it is National Poetry Month and each morning copying someone’s poem into my journal then writing my own “bad” version of it.

I have making homemade enchiladas and eating them with my daughters and their various friends and boyfriends.

I’ve been moving my furniture around in my house and seeing if I can get something like a “flow” going. (I think it has helped.)

I have been walking every day and snapping pictures on my I-phone and not remembering to share them on Instagram.

I’ve (gasp) shared several chapters of my mystery novel and now my first two readers are saying, “C’mon, where’s the rest? No fair!”

I have been reading my poems here and there and listening to other poets read their poems.

I’ve been working on the memory and picture book I told my siblings I would do for our parents…working on it at a snail’s pace.

I have actually been sleeping at night (most nights), in my own bed, and without resorting to watching Amazon Prime videos on my Kindle.

I have been practicing the piano and learning (very, very slowly and rather poorly) Ashokan Farewell.

I’ve gone to memorial services and Sunday church services, and Maundy Thursday and felt guilty about not doing more.

I’ve been weeding flowerbeds.

I’ve been reading Ruth Rendell mysteries.

 

I’ve been…

 

What about you?

 

https://www2.bethanyareid.com

Featured Photo by Susanne Jutzeler from Pexels

 

Join Us!

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Just a reminder that I’ll be reading my poems, along with poet Karen Whalley, tomorrow, Saturday, 13 April, noon-1:00, at Edmonds Bookshop.

Karen is an amazing poet and I can’t believe my luck at being her long-time friend. To read more about her, click here–or come join us!

 

“I’ve been waiting for years for Karen Whalley’s second collection to be published. These beautifully clear, meditative poems have it all; dexterously situated in daily experience, they meet with the difficulties of lived life, over and over with a deep, often heartbreakingly honest and humane insightfulness. Fluent, full of breakthroughs and surprises, these extraordinary poems never seem to falter; Whalley is an extraordinary poet, and this is a book in a thousand.” — Tony Hoagland

National Poetry Month

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I had two big deadlines over the last week — and I slid in under the wire on each of them. I had a personal goal to submit my mystery novel to PNWA, deadline March 29, and who knows how good my entry was but I put everything into it, I took a deep breath, and I hit “send.”

On Monday, April 1, my work was due for the Creative Nonfiction class I (foolishly) enrolled in back in December. (Was it foolish? Didn’t it help me keep writing in spite of all obstacles?) The assignments challenged me, and they included updating my CV and creating a “list of works” that forced me to take a look at what I’ve accomplished over my writing career and reassess my submissions process. I won’t even try to update you on everything else I’ve had going on.

It took everything I had to get these two items off my desk. I felt proud of myself. And I’m exhausted. Late on Monday I bought flowers for my containers on my back deck and I spent Tuesday afternoon digging in the dirt.

Usually I have an April — National Poetry Month — blog project, but not this year. What I DO have are two readings:

The first is Monday, 8 April, 1:30 p.m., at the Rexville Grange Art Show. I’ll be reading with other members of the Writing Lab and in addition to seeing local artists and art — and tulips — we would love to see you there. Refreshments provided.

The second reading is Saturday, 13 April, noon, at Edmonds Bookshop,  where I’ll be reading with Port Angeles poet, Karen Whalley. The author of The Rented Violin (Ausable Press, 2003) and My Own Name Seems Strange to Me (Off the Grid, 2019), Karen is not only my dear friend, but an extraordinary poet, and I can’t wait to hear her read from her new book.

 

Emergency Poem

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My friend, Francine Walls, sent me this poem. She wrote it for her son, who works in the desert,
but I’ve found it mighty useful, right here at home. To learn more about Francine, click on her name.

Emergency Poem

This is the poem for emergencies,
like the spare batteries and extra gas
you pack when you drive into the wilderness.

When you discover you are lost,
you can press any word in this poem,
and walk beside calm waters.

This poem does not have
water, food, shelter or energy bars,
yet courage is hidden in every line.

Before you crumple up this poem,
feeling danger north, south, west, east,
remember love’s gift to you: your next breath.

-Francine E. Walls