Tag Archive for: poets

April is National Poetry Month FYI by Juliana Aragón Fatula

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My first manuscript was published while I was graduating from CSU Pueblo in 2008. The publisher was Ghost Road Press in Denver, CO. My editor was the fabulous Sonya who was an angel sent from my ancestors to restore my confidence and shine a light on my poetic voice. I adore her and Caleb Seeling at Conundrum Press who along with Sonya sent me a new contract to republish my first book of poetry, Crazy Chicana in Catholic City under a new book cover and ISBN but with the same contents. I of course said, yes.

One day at dinner in Denver with my publisher, Caleb, he asked me if I had another manuscript and I whipped my second poetry collection, Red Canyon Falling on Churches, out of my briefcase sitting at my feet. He published my second book with an exquisite book cover with a photo by Tracy Harmon, the prize-winning investigative journalist and Nationally renowned photojournalist, and my bff of 35 years, since we were college mates. She also does my headshots, promotional videos, etc. She is a goddess and a good human being.

In the meantime, I’m publishing poems, essays, and non-fiction pieces in anthologies and small presses. I am a published writer with a following of fans who think I’m kinda fascinating. I write about my ancestors, my dysfunctional family, my political activism, and my spirituality, my voice is strong, honest, shocking, and hilarious. I’m not bragging, I’m explaining who I am and what I write about. I write the truth even though it hurts it also heals. I’m a healer of sorts. A Chingona Corn Mother, ordained by the Universal Church, a mentor, a mom, wife, pet parent, liberal, radical feminist, and spiritual leader of my community. My community consists of members of the LGBTQ+ and the marginalized people of color, especially the immigrants asking for our help, the writing community, the social activists and hippies, the lesbian lovers, and the Pittsburgh Heroes, the indigenous ancestors who survived and gave me their survival skills. These are my people. I’m a poet.

I’ve workshopped in San Antonio, TX with Sandra Cisneros’ Annual Macondo Writers’ Workshop, with Denise Chavez in Las Cruces, New Mexico, with Francisco Aragón in Salt Lake City, UT, for the Smithsonian Our America: the Latino Presence in American Art, and in sunny Dillon Beach, CA for the first annual Chingona Writers’ Workshop.
My performances have included libraries, universities, bookstores, coffee shops, and cultural art centers in Boulder, Colorado Springs, Denver, Pueblo, Salida, Salt Lake City, San Antonio, Alamosa, and for the Department of Defense in Los Azores, Sicily, Kuwait, Dubai, United Arab Emirates, and Diego Garcia Archipelagos Islands.
My dream of being an author in the library in my hometown came true. The Rawlings Library in Pueblo has my books on the shelf between Rudolfo Anaya and Sandra Cisneros! I almost lost my shit when I realized I am a poet.

One more braggadocio statement if you will indulge me, it is amazing and I’m proud that I’ve won awards for my poetry but also that I’ve met and befriended so many generous writers in my journeys. Some of these amazing writers are professors at universities and have asked permission to read my poems in their poetry classes with their students. And the Albuquerque Poet Laureate, Jessica Helen Lopez. asked if she could read my poem, the Hat, in a performance. I was honored of course.

My life has changed in the last three decades since I became sober and I have to give credit to my husband for sticking with me through all the craziness.

Finally, I’d like to share the story of meeting the international icon, Sandra Cisneros. She was at the Rawlings Library in Pueblo doing a speaking tour. I met her and she shook hands with me and everyone in the room. I never thought she’d come back to the cheap seats but she did with a big smile on her face. I was impressed and a huge fan. I handed her my first book of poetry, Crazy Chicana in Catholic City. She asked me to sign it. I did. I forgot to breathe and almost passed out.

The next day at her reading she mentioned my book to the audience and talked about me for five minutes! Everyone with me in the front row, my friends and professors from CSU Pueblo stared at me with their mouths open. They cheered for me when Sandra told the audience they should buy my book. She asked if I had any copies with me. I said I had a box in my trunk in the parking lot. My BFF, Leslie the librarian extraordinaire, jumped up and shouted, I’ll fetch them. And off she ran.

I sold books beside Sandra. I had a shorter line. Afterward, she told me I want to give you an author blurb to sell more books. She said, your writing makes me want to write poetry. She also asked me to apply to her Macondo Foundation writer’s workshop. She said it’s competitive so keep applying until you get in. I applied twice and the second year was accepted.

My life has never been the same since I met Sandra. She is my angel on earth who lifts me when doubting my skills. She has introduced me to editors who have helped me improve my writing.

Denise Chavez won my heart at the Rawlings Library. I met her and she drew me into her magical world of literature. I’ve become an improved writer and human being because of my friendship with these writers. Linda Rodriguez introduced herself to me at AWP one year in Denver and invited me to join the Stiletto Gang after a few years of being friends on Facebook and emailing. She saved me hundreds of times because she had faith in me, I began to believe I could be a writer and not just a poet but a mystery writer.

I’m still revising my completed manuscript, The Colorado Sisters, but because I don’t want to write a good book, I want to write a great book, I haven’t sent it out to be published yet. It needs a good tweaking or two and then when my editor tells me it’s ready I’ll submit but not till it’s ready.

It’s not easy writing a great murder mystery. I might end up publishing it as a short story or screenplay. But wouldn’t it be great to have my first novel be a prize winner? Oohwee! I’d have a hootenanny and celebrate because I’ll have finished my first mystery and it can sit on the shelf with Rudolfo Anaya, Linda Rodriguez, Maria Melendez Kelson, Lucha Corpi, Katherine, Manuel Ramos, Mario Acevedo, and Stephen King!

Of Tempests in Teapots, Po-Biz, and a Welcome Return to Sanity

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by Linda Rodriguez

I’m a hyphenate writer. Poet-mystery novelist. One foot
stands in the airy-fairy literary world of poetry, where I’ve published two
books, many individual poems, and won some national awards, while the other is
planted firmly in the down-to-earth storytelling of mysteries and thrillers
where all the loose ends have to be tied up or explained and where I’ve been
very fortunate also. Although I love both worlds and have wonderful friends in
both, as well as people who have mentored and helped me, I’ve come to realize
there’s a real difference—and this past week brought that home with a sting.
The poetry world—or “po-biz” as we poets tend to refer to it
to mark the difference between writing the poems and building the career by
publishing, winning awards, getting tenure, booking readings, etc.—is very
competitive. At least, the establishment academic poetry world is highly competitive.
The side niches where you will find most of the African American, Asian
American, Latino, or Native American poets are highly cooperative and
collaborative, real communities, and their members usually don’t get the plum
positions or lucrative honors.
The world of mysteries, where there is more money and a vastly
larger number of readers at stake, is surprisingly not cutthroat competitive,
but much more of a cooperative and collaborative community, even though it
would be considered by the po-biz folks to be pretty establishment. From the
beginning, I was blown away by how generous and helpful major writers were
toward the beginner I was, and as I’ve spent more and more time among the mystery
writers, I’ve seen firsthand how super-collaborative they all are.
I still write and publish poetry. In fact, I have another
full-length book manuscript I’ll be sending out for publication in the near
future—to join my other two published collections, I hope. I negotiate the two
worlds with a shake of my head at the differences, and that’s about all. Until
something like last week happens that really brings home to me the absolute difference
in cultures.
I was thrilled to learn that a dear friend and fellow poet, Richard
Blanco, had been selected as the inaugural poet for President Obama’s second
inauguration. I’ve studied and critiqued manuscripts with Richard, and I know
what a gifted poet he is. He has won some of the po-biz’s major awards,
equivalent to the Edgar or Rita, and continues to study and work hard to
constantly challenge himself and improve his art. Plus he’s a genuinely nice
guy, funny and smart and generous—and Latino and immigrant (at four months of
age) and openly gay. Those last qualifiers guarantee that he’s spent a lot of
time in those side-niche poetry communities I mentioned earlier where there’s
much more community and cooperation.
Before the inauguration even took place, there were
rumblings from certain corners of po-biz about his selection. Award-winner or
not, Richard is not one of the usual recipients of this kind of honor. These kinds
of things, like the poet-laureate position of the U.S., are usually reserved
for a handful of old white guys who went to the “right” schools and studied with
the “right” teachers, etc., etc. So obviously, even though he had great
credentials, he couldn’t possibly be good enough for this job. He didn’t fit
the mold.
I read these carpings with little worry. I knew the quality
of Richard’s work, and I knew he would write and read a great poem. When the
inauguration came, he read with great effect a wonderful poem, in which he did
the almost impossible and caught the essence of America on the page. He brought
tears to the eyes of many Americans with his great poem, which caught perfectly
the mood of the moment that, even after terrible things have happened, we will
all pull together and make our country great.
Bare minutes after he finished reading, the insults and
criticizing began on Facebook and soon moved to prestigious blogs. His poem was
trashed, his performance was trashed, and sometimes he himself was trashed. I
came face to face with a very strong expression of the ugly side of po-biz. One
academic poet even admitted at the beginning of his attack, “I wanted to hate
[the poem.]” He ended with a suggestion that Richard should have inserted some exciting
profanity to liven up the poem and make it a little bit hip (completely
ignoring the occasion for which the poem was written at which “exciting
profanity” would have been totally inappropriate, if very hip).

So this past week I’ve been living more in the poetry world
than the mystery (and other commercial novel) world. I wrote a blog lamenting
the situation and the way poets tend to eat their own at the slightest excuse
and how the egos of poets are so often poetry’s worst enemies.


I’ve had a lot of support for this from poets of the
side-niche, collaborative communities of poetry—and even from some of the
po-biz folks themselves. But I’m ready to quit reading every attack and frothing
at the mouth at the absolute stupidity and cupidity of the remarks.
I’m ready to return to the sane and generous community of
mystery novelists where few, if any, feel that someone else’s professional good
fortune is a threat and an attack on their own lives, where writers are more
likely to extend a hand in congratulations to someone else getting an award
rather than to sling mud at her or him. I’m eager to return to the place where kind
writers with major reputations often offer a hand to those just starting out or
having to start over.
And I’m here to tell my friends who are writers and readers
in this great community—you don’t realize how good we have it here. Just take a
look across the way at po-biz and thank your stars or guardian angels that you’re
novel writers and readers and not poets.