1. Tell us about your poems, “The Very Short Story of Your Knuckles” and “After the Man Who Found Me Doing Burpees at the Park Said: “I Can Tell You Learned Those on the Inside.”,” in Volume 21. How did they come to be?

“After the Man Who Found Me Doing Burpees at the Park Said: “I Can Tell You Learned Those on the Inside,”” began in a workshop led by Marcus Wicker, who was in Mankato for the Good Thunder Reading Series. The experience it’s based off is true. I’d sort of forgotten about it. Rather, I hadn’t thought it was much for a poem until Wicker’s workshop where I realized what the man said had remained, quite vibrant, in my mind.

“The Very Short Story of Your Knuckles” was a poem I couldn’t write for years because I needed it to be “perfect.” It became more of a responsibility than anything else. After multiple failed drafts, I shelved it. Years later, while teaching, I wrote on the board “The Very Short Story of Your ________” as a freewrite prompt for my students. I decided to jot some lines myself. It was only after class, that I realized what I’d written felt closer to that very poem I failed at writing for so long. Coming at it from a different angle and without all that pressure to write towards perfection allowed me to discover what the poem itself needed.

2. What excites you as a writer? What turns you off, makes you turn away or stop reading a piece of writing?

Vagueness and untethered abstraction tend to be my writing-turn-offs. Like many writers I know, I love a surprising yet somehow fitting line or image. Those surprises end up being the moments I find myself recalling long after I’ve read the poem.

3. What was an early experience that led to you becoming a writer?

My sister Rose leant me her copy of Luis J. Rodriguez’s memoir, Always Running, when I was fifteen or sixteen and had stopped caring about school because, among other reasons, the books I was assigned didn’t include characters who looked, spoke or lived like me. Those years, I spent most nights spray-painting walls all over town. The memoir deals with identity and manhood as a Mexican-American man. Graffiti symbolized my own struggles with who I was. In Rodriguez’s work, I saw myself. That’s when I realized that being a writer was not only a possibility for me, but that what I had to say could mean something to someone.

4. What are some themes/topics that are important to your writing?

I’m so very interested in masculinity, identity and loyalties. I grew up in a very macho culture. All car parts and boxing gloves under a southern California sun. Now, I’m a poet who lives in southern Minnesota, who teaches in academia. For me, there’re tensions to explore at those crossroads.

5. What does your creative process look like? How does the environment you are in shape your work or where do you like to write?

I like to move around. Mornings, I head to a desk in my apartment’s spare bedroom. I open a draft of a poem because I fear starting blank. I write, revise and stare at the poem for an hour or two. I take a break. Go for a walk. Wash dishes. Return to my desk for a while. I get up and read. I go for a run. I get ready to teach. On days I don’t teach, I hit a coffee shop or the University library. If it’s warm enough, I’ll walk to wherever I’m going to write. Evenings, my wife or I will make dinner. Evenings, I try to relax. I still struggle with the myth that a writer needs to write every day. I do like to “write” every day, though. Walking around with an awareness and openness, with questions, that’s writing. Watching a documentary is writing. Reading over a friend’s poem is writing. Listening to a podcast (Ologies!) is writing. Attending readings in the Twin Cities and thinking about the arrangement of your collection on the drive up is writing. I try not to get to bed too late.

6. What projects or pieces are you working on right now?

I’m very blessed in the support my writing has received this year. As far as poetry, I’ll be spending a good chunk of this summer working on a series of poems that may or may not make it into my first collection. Last summer I began writing what has become my “All-American Mexican” poems. That term—what it could mean, what it seems to imply—has been an obsession since it first came to me. I plan to explore the idea into exhaustion then gather poetry on the return trip.

Through the Loft Literary Center’s Mirrors & Windows Fellowship, I’m working on YA novel—my first long-form endeavor. Currently, that project is in its very beginning stages so all I can say is that it’s inspired by adolescence and the homegirls who I did graffiti with.

Congratulations to Michael on being a 2019 Minnesota State Arts Board Artist Initiative Grant recipient! Visit his website here, and follow him on Twitter.

1. Tell us about your CNF piece, “Weekly Specials,” in Volume 21. How did it come to be?

My family moves around a lot, and one of the discussions we have about that is over what stores are present and which are missing. I feel it brings a bit of stability to be able to buy the same comfort foods your parents cooked for you as a child.

I also think a lot about the stories hiding in overlooked places, and I think that’s why I’m attracted to unusual forms. I don’t believe in limiting stories to specific forms with specific rules that are only and always in books. If you get nosey enough about someone else’s shopping cart, you’ll find a story.

2. What excites you as a writer? What turns you off, makes you turn away or stop reading a piece of writing?

To paraphrase one of my favorite manga: I don’t write to escape reality; I write to face reality. I like stories that give me something to take back into reality, so if it doesn’t shift who I am, I’m not interested. I’m particularly uninterested in work that claims to be universal but is parochial, limited, and not for me to read, like Hemingway.

That said, I have a pretty broad taste. The Book of Night Women helped me see my ancestors as human and layered. My Hero Academia engages my earnest inner child and inspires me to pursue my dreams when I’m feeling burnt-out and jaded. Recently, I’ve been reading essays from The Collected Schizophrenias in order to better understand my mother.

3. How does the current political climate influence your art or creative process?

I used to feel panicked and urgent all the time because so many of my overlapping identities were under attack. (I’m a black woman who was raised Muslim, grew up lower-income, and identifies as queer). But I tried to really sit with the Toni Morrison quote that “The function […] of racism is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work.” Nowadays, I realize that just being myself to my fullest is resistance enough. My current form of rebellion is to let my work be as happily black or femme or Muslim or queer or lowbrow as it needs to be.

4. What does your creative process look like? How does the environment you are in shape your work or where do you like to write?

I never know what people want to hear when they ask about process. A method of drafting, editing, or creating ideas that others can emulate? I feel like everyone has to develop an individualized method that fits their goals, values, and lifestyle.

That said: I do a lot of preplanning in my head, so it looks like I write quickly. Sometimes, I draft on paper and edit as I transcribe to digital, but I always save in the cloud. I’m still learning how to revise, but I like to set drafts in the closet for a couple of months first. I use The Snowflake Method for longer works, and recommend Wonderbook: The Illustrated Guide to Creating Imaginative Fiction for general writing advice. I’ve written in notebooks while building trail in Montana and on Google documents during lunch breaks at a temporary job, so I want to say that environment doesn’t matter as long as I’m in the right headspace. A good playlist certainly helps.

5. What projects or pieces are you working on right now?

Too many, but that’s how I like it. I am trying to find an agent for a kids’ book, torn between revising another kids’ book or writing a new one, and I told the state of Minnesota that I would “write and revise a body of speculative short stories (50,000 words/ten stories minimum) as preparation for publication,” so I guess I’d better get on that!

Congratulations to Maya on being a 2019 Minnesota State Arts Board Artist Initiative Grant recipient! Visit Maya’s website here and follow her on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

1. Tell us about your CNF pieces in Volume 21: “Punk House,” “Two Piece,” and “The Basin Set.” How did they come to be?

I wrote “Punk House” at a small poetry retreat up in Washington, on the coast. I went with two women I was only loosely acquainted with. There was something slumber-partyish about that weekend that reminded me of my youth, about sleeping in unfamiliar beds, falling in love with friends, semi-platonically, and becoming expeditiously intimate with near-strangers. “The Basin Set” evolved from a swatch of a longer essay I’d written after my parents’ house burned down in the October 2017 Northern California firestorm. Most of it is based on a photograph and a newspaper clipping, neither of which exist anymore. A couple of summers ago I was walking through my neighborhood and passed a twelve- or thirteen-year old girl in a tube top and lipstick. She reminded me of a specific time, an awkward time. That’s where “Two-Piece” came from.  

2. What excites you as a writer? What turns you off, makes you turn away, or stop reading a piece of writing?

I’m most drawn to language in writing—the diction and the syntax. Its music, its connotations, its ambiguities or precision. Form and content are important too, and I tend to favor those pieces that surprise me or even bewilder me. I am turned off by predictability. If I come across a cliché in something I’m reading I’m tempted to put it down. I don’t though. I want to be proven wrong.

3. What are some themes/topics that are important to your writing?

I read Christine Schutt’s A Day, A Night, Another Day, Summer on a flight to Philadelphia. I haven’t been the same since. Every sentence is so rich. She is a master of language. Virginia Woolf is the original risk-taker, my forever favorite. Maggie Nelson, Sarah Manguso, Noy Holland, Jorie Graham, Leni Zumas, Jenny Erpenbeck—I have so many favorites that all influence me in their different ways.  

One of the poetry classes I took in my MFA used Mark Doty’s The Art of Description as the textbook. It’s one of those slim, perfect Graywolf books. I go back to that time and time again. “To yoke,” Doty says, “within a single figure, the vegetal and the made, or the hard and the soft, or the tiny and the immense, is a means of bringing energy into language through the unexpected collision of elements that seem to meet only in the mind, in the framing field of thinking.” This energy is what I am after, an “unexpected collision” that engages the reader’s (and my own) mind by its syzygies, its disparate components that create tension that is outside of plot or point.  

4. Do you practice any other art forms? If so, do these influence your writing and/or creative process?

I sew and I’m not very good at it despite having studied apparel design for a year. I’m impatient and sloppy, I cut corners wherever I can. But I love doing it. I turn hideous cast-offs or discount fabric into my wardrobe. There’s such a joy in making the ugly pretty, in rescuing something destined for a landfill. I think there’s a related practice here, between my sewing and my writing. In the same way that an unlikely garment or a cheap material can surprise me in its applications, words, used new and unexpectedly, make me excited. This is all a metaphor for possibility.

5. What projects or pieces are you working on right now?

I am currently working on a memoir about wildfires and drug addiction and control and lack of control and god.

Follow Karleigh on Instagram.

The Association of Writers & Writing Programs (AWP)’s annual Conference & Bookfair is the largest literary conference in North America and one of the biggest events on the calendar for writers, publishers, editors, teachers, and students. It’s a feast of panels, book browsing, networking, readings, offsite events, and catching up with the workings of the literary world, but booking a full schedule each day at AWP can be overwhelming. Feeling slightly engulfed in the hubbub is to be expected, but if enthusiasm is fading to nerves and exhaustion, it’s time to get outside the convention center and out into the city.

After almost five years of attending AWP, I’ve resolved to make time for exploring the city as part of the conference experience next week. Having spent time in Portland over the past two years, I know I’m missing something special if I stay within the halls and walls––so for those who haven’t been to the City of Roses before, here are some easy ideas to get you out and about without needing to create another kind of conference schedule. Most locations are also accessible through the MAX light rail, streetcar, or bus systems.

NOURISHMENT FOR BODY AND SPIRIT

Portland is known for its coffee, and Stumptown Coffee is one of the classic roasters with multiple shops in Portland. The atmosphere in the Stark Street location is relaxing and chill, with the Ace Hotel’s lobby open for lounge-style seating. It’s also across the street from Living Room Theaters (341 SW Tenth Avenue), which offers coffee, wine, beer, popcorn, candy, and a mouth-watering menu for enjoyment in the café/lounge or from your seat during a movie. (I recommend the ‘Dial M for Mushrooms Melt’ with a side salad.) The food is great, the seats are comfy, and it’s a wonderful haven from the hectic nature of AWP.

If you are looking for donuts, Coco Donuts and Coffee’s Downtown location (814 SW 6th Avenue) offers a feast of sugary treats that woo the taste buds from the first bite. You can’t go wrong with any selection, but the lavender-glazed donut is the kind of treat you’ll remember with a smile for a long time. Be warned, though––donuts sell out quickly, so a morning visit is preferable.

BOOKS

I know, I know, AWP is all about books. Why go outside to see more? Well, Powell’s City of Books’s flagship store (1005 W Burnside St.) is a legend among bookstores and the city block of books is best appreciated from within.Yet it’s not the only one in the area the worth making the trek across the Willamette River to peruse. Floating World Comics (400 NW Couch St.) is both an impressive comic shop, book shop, small publisher, and zine haven. Local artists and writers often contribute their work directly to the store’s shelves, making the relatively small shop space a world apart. For a showcase of the creative and quirky spirit cherished in Portland, this is a must see spot close to the Oregon Convention Center.

MUSEUMS

For those who enjoy a good wander through museums, Portland does not disappoint. The Oregon Museum of Science and Industry (OMSI) (1945 SE Water Ave) has a number of exhibits, and currently features “The Science Behind Pixar.” OMSI is also home to the Kendall Planetarium and offers tours of the USS Blueback. The Oregon Maritime Museum (198 SW Naito Pkwy) is the closest museum to AWP’s venue, offering tours of Portland, the last operating sternwheel steam tug in the United States.

In addition, the Portland Art Museum (1219 SW Park Ave) has two big exhibits on display––Modern American Realism, offering highlights from the Smithsonian American Art Museum’s permanent Sara Roby Foundation Collection, and the map is not the territory, an inaugural exhibition featuring regional artists exploring place and boundaries. It is, in the words of the museum, “a generative conversation about our connections to the land, efforts toward decolonization, bringing indigenous values to the forefront, and a celebration of the region’s kinship.”

NATURAL SPACES

Portland’s nickname as the City of Roses comes in part from the International Rose Test Garden (400 SW Kingston Ave), the oldest official and continuously operated public rose test garden in the United States. The garden is home to over 10,000 rose bushes with over 650 varieties, but the real treat of the garden is the ability to walk along the bushes (for free) and admire the infinite range of colors and characteristics showcased with each rose. Take time to walk among the roses and admire the views of the city, before heading to the nearby Portland Japanese Garden (611 SW Kingston Ave).

The Japanese Garden is a place to go to with a generous stretch of hours and a spirit of pilgrimage, as the silence and peace of the gardens convey tranquility extending beyond natural beauty. Watching the koi fish in the Strolling Pond Garden, contemplating the swirling patterns in the Flat Garden and Sand and Stone Garden, and observing the twists of time in the bonsai trees on the Ellie M. Hill Bonsai Terrace will leave you feeling rejuvenated. By the time you depart the garden, you’ll be ready to return to the conference and take in the knowledge, ideas, and opportunities that will charge your work and writing long after those three days are done.

For more AWP tips, check out AWP’s official attendee guide and our list of contributor and editor panels at the conference, and be sure to stop by Booths #3062/3064 in the Bookfair to say hello!

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