Well, sometimes we leapfrog. Happy to be back. The prompt is, n+7: replace every noun in your passage with the seventh after it in the dictionary. On offer was a handy generator, and I happily took full advantage of its modern power.
Inspired by my grad school friend poet Nancy Long, I’ve signed up to craft found poems from the headlines every day in April, National Poetry Month. To get started, we answer some interview questions.
What excites you about Oulipost?
The headline focus. Writing good, evocative headlines to fit is good training for a poet. Plus I like the outward outlook drawing on headlines will promote. Thus far in my extremely short time writing poems, the poems have been drawn from my own experience — much like most of my literary nonfiction. I’m excited about the poetry of hard politics, hard news — and this wacky weather that April is sure to keep bringing. I live in a great newspaper town, complete with competing tabloids which will offer so much poetry possibility.
Plus — poems every day! That’s way better for a person than vitamins.
What (if anything) scares you about Oulipost?
Poems! Every day. Also, I haven’t really published anything here before — self publishing sorta scares me.
Have you written experimental or found poetry before?
Nope. Can’t get worse!
What newspaper will serve as your source text?
I’m a daily devotee of the Grey Lady, but I’m definitely not monogamous. I plan to draw on the Daily News and sometimes the New York Post (especially the Sports sections). I also travel a lot and April is no exception so I’ll sample the local offerings and see what makes its way in.
Who is your spirit Oulipian?
Nancy Long got me into this so I gotta pick her! Plus I already know that I love her work and, especially, her amazing spirit. I’m reassured to see some familiar names and looking forward to e-meeting lots of people. Feels like only the second time I’m introducing myself as a poet. (The first time required quite a lot of Scotch.)
I’m so pleased that the good and fun folks at Streetlight Magazine included my essay “Blue Coat” for their relaunch edition. Spring is such a great time for renewing literary ventures. In honor of Spring and Passover, here’s a quick taste — but I hope you’ll savor the whole magazine. There’s lots of good stuff in there.
Before I went to college I was indifferent about my Jewishness. But explaining lox to my first Minnesotan boyfriend (“I thought it was some kind of bread product,” he said), realizing that I argue for fun and sport, knowing that I would never cross a picket line—hell, that I knew what a picket line was—it all made me realize I wasn’t only a New Yorker, I was a Jew. And not just a generic Jew, but a red-diaper-grandbaby Jew. I began—what else?—to study. (And to go to therapy.) I was already interested in this heritage, but when my grandmother died I felt my tether to my Judaism snap, and ricochet back at me.
It is a fact of literary life that journal publication is sometimes delayed. So it is with the soon-to-be-revived journal scheduled to publish one of my essays. Both essay and journal are “forthcoming.”
But look over here — cake! There are certainly ways that baking a cake is like writing an essay: both depend on confidence, practice, chemistry and a little bit of magic. Good cakes and good writing both boast fine flavor, enough lift to avoid being dense but enough substance to avoid being too light. Like a writing an excellent essay, cake baking balances tradition and innovation, experiment with combinations and proportions and ideas, but stay within some general bounds dictated by common sense and physical limits. Both are best layered, and feature some contrast. Also, if it flops or collapses or just plain sucks, it’s relatively painless to trash the failed experiment. But here are three ways baking a cake is not like writing an essay: cake baking is linear, low-stakes, and makes your house smell good.
Cake is a good consolation prize for receiving rejections, a real reward for sitting and writing, and productive procrastination for whiling away the time this writer spends waiting for her work to see print. What can’t cake do?