dianneP

Away They Go!

Published on May 30, 2024 by dianneP2 Comments

I was thrilled today to have the privilege to mail three new Old Scratch Press books off to the National Book Awards! If you follow all of our doings around here you may have seen this post from last year, where I was lucky enough to do the same thing!

Gosh, you know, we’re going up against the big guys when we send our books in to the National Books Awards. Most of the other books being sent in are going to have been written by well-established poets with a long history of publication, or brand new poets being championed by their mentors who are the big guys in their fields, and those other books are also going to come from traditional (read as: large and monied) presses or university presses, which, like the big publishing houses, also have lots of disposable income and connections. I got my MFA; I know how that all works. And still, I don’t care about the competition. I care that we have wonderful poets. Morgan Golladay has been writing her poetry throughout most of her adult life, and salting it away for “someday,” and Nadja Maril and Gabby Gilliam have been submitting and getting small wins with their writing for years now, and why isn’t their writing as deserving as anyone else’s? It absolutely is! It gives me a total thrill to just think about getting them into this contest, where they get a chance to stand shoulder to shoulder with the “big guys.” And get this—Carolyn Forché is one of the judges this year! Carolyn Forché! It’s mind-blowing to think that a poet from our little collective is going to be read by her. I still remember how my teachers raved about Carolyn Forché’s book THE COUNTRY BETWEEN US back in the ’90s. We read it and discussed it over and over with reverence. The idea that she’ll be reading one of our books? It’s just wild.

So, lovely people following our progress as a collective and a press, please join me in crossing your fingers and blowing on one of these:

as we send Gabby, Nadja, and Morgan off to the National Book Awards to try their luck!

And hey, dear reader of this blog, why not snag a copy for yourself in a show of support?

Flash prose, poetry, and essays inspired by her kitchen, garden, and family memories; Nadja Maril’s chapbook, RECIPES FROM. MY GARDEN is a sensual feast for the soul. Drawing upon her life experiences as an artist’s daughter, antiques dealer, journalist, and author; Maril mines simple objects for meaning and creates a lavish buffet.

Editorial Praise for RECIPES FROM MY GARDEN

“Suffused with the tastes of cilantro, mint, and cucumber fresh from a garden, the smell of salt air from the ocean’s edge, the familiar scent of coffee and tobacco from a father’s hug, or the simple pleasure of the sounds of clicking insects through a backdoor screen, Nadja Maril’s lovely and sensitive RECIPES FROM MY GARDEN is a feast for the senses and a balm for the spirit. While exploring personal memories that touch on abstract questions of identity and history, Maril also reminds us of the tiny yet profound comforts of earthly existence.”
–Aaron Hamburger, author of HOTEL CUBA—

“In RECIPES FROM MY GARDEN, Nadja Maril casts a richly sensual literary spell. From the deft and resonant garden-inspired pieces that find the taste of ‘summer’ in basil and celebrate the ‘welcoming gaze of sunflowers,’ to the sharply observed portraits of small yet potent memories— buying a perfect dress with her mother; baking a cake ‘too beautiful to be cut’– Maril mines moral and spiritual meaning from everyday life. The promise Maril makes about a ‘chicken and rice’ recipe is true of this whole vibrant chapbook: ‘soul nutrition it will provide.’ ”
–Elizabeth Searle, novelist and scriptwriter (A FourSided Bed; I’ll Show You Mine)–

“RECIPES FROM MY GARDENcelebrates the splendor of traversing a literary life and surviving the time of Covid. Nadja Maril’s first collection of poetic prose, flash memoir, and poetry introduces us to her family, her nurtured garden, and the myriad spaces she navigates to cope with our world. With true artistic excellence, Nadja’s words yearn for an understanding of what troubles us, inviting us into a landscape of riddles, questions and puzzles.”
–Indigo Moor, author of Everybody’s Jonesin’ for Something—

“[RECIPES FROM MY GARDEN] is a treasure of small love stories: odes to beloved kitchens, and vegetable gardens, and the simple joys of a blooming sunflower. It is a book of memory and of pleasure that speaks of the love of family across many generations. The passed-down recipes inside the pages are themselves the most generous kind of love letter.”
–Susan Conley, author of Landslide—

Pre-order Paperback

Pre-order Kindle

[In NO OCEAN SPIT ME OUT] Gabby Gilliam’s verse preserves the feel of the summer farm, contrasting its fertile brightness with the struggle between grief and the sudden absence of connection to family and place. Belonging and the struggle to continue remembering clash on the page, while the passion for life’s diverse and tactile experiences dazzle the reader with tantalizing gasps of zucchini, crab apples, and blackberry wine. Each poem gives the reader their own lingering taste of her ghosts. -Kim Malinowski-

NO OCEAN SPIT ME OUT is a captivating debut collection of poetry that delves deep into the intricate tapestry of family dynamics and personal evolution. Within its 30 poems, the collection embarks on a profound journey through the stages of coming of age, navigating the complexities of familial bonds, grappling with organized religion, and ultimately, embracing the essence of self-acceptance. Whether you’re seeking solace in the shared experiences of family relationships or searching for introspective insights into the nuances of identity and faith, this collection offers a profound and thought-provoking exploration of the human condition.

Pre-order Paperback

Pre-order Kindle

“Sometimes stark, but always beautiful, these free verse celebrations of North Mountain introduce a seasonal sense of environmental transitions to the observer and reader’s eye, with time’s passage changing everything and nothing…Aside from a personal visit to North Mountain, there is no better way of appreciating its beauty, impact, and presence over the eons than through THE SONG OF NORTH MOUNTAIN.” —MIDWEST BOOK REVIEW—

From the mighty pen of artist and author Morgan Golladay comes THE SONG OF NORTH MOUNTAIN, a transformative collection of poetry and art celebrating the famous and mystical North Mountain of Appalachia.
North Mountain, a wildland in the George Washington and Jefferson National Forests of western Virginia, has been recognized by the Wilderness Society as a special place worthy of protection from logging and road construction. The Wilderness Society has designated the area as a “Mountain Treasure.”
Morgan Golladay brings her readers to dwell in the reverence of this wonderful wilderness. Golladay is an award-winning author who was raised on North Mountain and lives in coastal Delaware as part of a thriving artist and author community. All words and art in this book are by Golladay.

Paperback (available now)

Kindle (available now)

Audiobook (available now, and Audible account not needed to buy or listen!)

Good luck women! May your wonderful books triumph!

No Ocean Spit Me Out Pre-order!

Published on May 24, 2024 by diannePLeave a comment

Dianne here, and I am so excited to tell you that, right now, Gabby Gilliam is brining us the fourth book from Old Scratch Press, NO OCEAN SPIT ME OUT.

Gabby Gilliam’s verse preserves the feel of the summer farm, contrasting its fertile brightness with the struggle between grief and the sudden absence of connection to family and place. Belonging and the struggle to continue remembering clash on the page, while the passion for life’s diverse and tactile experiences dazzle the reader with tantalizing gasps of zucchini, crab apples, and blackberry wine. Each poem gives the reader their own lingering taste of her ghosts. -Kim Malinowski

NO OCEAN SPIT ME OUT is a captivating debut collection of poetry that delves deep into the intricate tapestry of family dynamics and personal evolution. Within its 30 poems, the collection embarks on a profound journey through the stages of coming of age, navigating the complexities of familial bonds, grappling with organized religion, and ultimately, embracing the essence of self-acceptance.

Each poem in NO OCEAN SPIT ME OUT serves as a poignant reflection of the human experience, capturing moments of vulnerability, resilience, and growth with eloquence. Through lyrical prose and emotive imagery, Gilliam paints a vivid portrait of the joys and struggles inherent in the process of self-discovery.

Whether you’re seeking solace in the shared experiences of family relationships or searching for introspective insights into the nuances of identity and faith, this collection offers a profound and thought-provoking exploration of the human condition.

NO OCEAN SPIT ME OUT is National Book Award nominee!

Pre-order your copy now!

PAPERBACK

eBOOK

Echoes From the Hocker House Makes Short List

Published on May 7, 2024 by diannePLeave a comment

OSP Founding member Virgina Watts’ collection of short stories, ECHOES FROM THE HOCKER HOUSE has made the short list of finalists for the 2024 da Vinci Eye Award and also for the Eric Hoffer Book Award, which announces soon!

I worked as Virginia’s editor for this book, and I can tell you that you will find this book captivating. It will transport you to another time and place, and I bet you’ll want to read it straight through in one sitting because the stories are so engrossing.

Congratulations Virginia! Fingers crossed that you win it all!

INSTANT NOODLES IS UP!

Published on April 15, 2024April 14, 2024 by diannePLeave a comment

Check out the wonderful writing and art: curated by Old Scratch Press!
Lot’s of poetry for National Poetry Month plus other literary delights await you!

Just like a great lunch you can get it in an instant!

HAY FOR THE HORSES

Published on April 2, 2024March 30, 2024 by diannePLeave a comment

I want to share with you today, as I do my 9-5 job, one of my favorite poems ever, “Hay for the Horses,” by Gary Snyder.

Gary Snyder reading Hay for the Horses

Hay for the Horses

by Gary Snyder

He had driven half the night
From far down San Joaquin
Through Mariposa, up the
Dangerous Mountain roads,
And pulled in at eight a.m.
With his big truckload of hay
behind the barn.
With winch and ropes and hooks
We stacked the bales up clean
To splintery redwood rafters
High in the dark, flecks of alfalfa
Whirling through shingle-cracks of light,
Itch of haydust in the
sweaty shirt and shoes.
At lunchtime under Black oak
Out in the hot corral,
—The old mare nosing lunchpails,
Grasshoppers crackling in the weeds—
“I’m sixty-eight” he said,
“I first bucked hay when I was seventeen.
I thought, that day I started,
I sure would hate to do this all my life.
And dammit, that’s just what
I’ve gone and done.”

I like to think of this poem periodically, to make sure I am doing what I want to do with my life.

It’s tax season. That’s a time I also always wonder if I am doing something worthwhile, or at least not onerous, for my daily bread.

Are you a writer or artisit who’s been bucking hay for 51 years instead of making?

Time to create!

See all about “Hay for the Horses” and Gary Snyder here.

By the Time You Read This, You May Be Cooking Dinner

Published on March 7, 2024March 24, 2024 by diannePLeave a comment

a photo of black radishes with a posterize filter from photoshop on them and a utensil crock behind them. — A photo I took, and then photoshopped a bit, of black radishes. I haven’t tried them yet. They’re as large as beets. Have you tried them?

As a human perhaps the toughest task I face is what the heck to feed me, and the spouse and child, each day for dinner. Breakfast everyone is on their own. Daughter, who has a light appetite, has a protein shake. Spouse, who has a sweet tooth, has some sort of flaky thing and coffee. I have several coffeeeeeees, and, well, I never know. Could be beans on toast. Coudl be leftover takeout. Could be tomatoes and olives in a bowl. Could be yogurt. Might be soup. Seldom is eggs.

Lunch… do people eat lunch? I don’t always. The meals seem to run into each other, and usually lunch is the loser for me, because there is not time to have breakfast, do all the morning things, then do the work things, and fit in lunch too, before it’s time for dinner. But I love lunch. I love lentils and tuna, salads of any kind, rice and tofu, possibly more yogurt. Daughter eats the same meal every day, packed in a lunch bag, Annie’s Organic Star Pasta. We put it in a thermos, and, for about four years now, she eats it…. every. single. day. Dedication. Spouse eats, most likely, more sweet and flaky things. But me, I am most apt to have more coffee, and maybe chomp on some lettuce as I am adding some to the guinea pig cage.

Dinner. Dinner ie exasperating. You know it is! There are, if your life is anything like mine, too many people (and we are only three) who like too disparate things, and have crazy schedules, and it can be downright tough to get everything ready on time for everyone’s schedule, but the toughest of all is thinking WHAT?? what to feed everyone.

Enter poetry, short memoir, short short stories, and art, to save the day, as usual!

As you may know, if you have read this blog before. I started a lit mag, Instant Noodles (gee, named after food. Obsessed? Maybe…..), and now Old Scratch Press is running it. Up until this year I was the only one choosing the pieces, and, often I was moved to choose pieces about food. And I have to say, on a side note, getting to read so many wonderful entries has been nothing but a pleasure. I love Instant Noodles, and I have really enjoyed all the pieces, and all the art too. But, yes, it may be possible to make the assumption that I am slightly food… centric? Motivated? Obsessed? And I have often been charmed by pieces that relate to food in some way, even if it is only in my mind.

And so, in this post, I want to direct you to take a look at a few of them.

The first is the memory piece by John Johnson, “Moss Soup and Manicotti,” where he remembers his grandmother’s cooking, “For love in this family was measured by the number of courses served and the temperature in the kitchen….”

“If Only,” by Bethany A. Beeler, is a wonderful painting that looks, to me, like my dearest love, a steaming mug of coffee:

My second favorite edible may be butter… True!

“…the wood cylinder moans,
the paddles slow,
the moon is full,
the butter comes.”

Writes Cynthia Gallaher in her poem “Butter Eaters.”

I have long loved, “This Is Just to Say,” by William Carlos Williams, the famous short piece about plums. I also love “Stolen Plums,” by Benjiman B. White:

“…In a lonely field

Full of future and autumn

And a windblown harvest

Forced by growth

To thump against gravity

And hunger….”

And, finally, if you cannot wait a second longer to eat, you can meet me and Willie Schatz in “Molly’s Magic Kitchen,”

“Shit! I forgot to buy the fucking fresh tomatoes. But we have sun-dried. I’ll work around it.”

Of course she will, as she did two days prior when she forgot the dough needed 24 hours to rise and recovered by scrubbing the pizza for pasta primavera or five days earlier when she left her cherished butter lettuce at the grocery and could atone for the evil deed only with a luscious chopped salad or two weeks ago when she entered her realm crowing about the terrific tuna casserole we were going to enjoy only to realize she had bought sardines and would have to settle for a salad Niçoise (that of course was not chopped liver).

So, for dinner tonight, I fell back on a childhood meal that both my mother and my father used to make from time-to-time when magic and inspiration failed them: leftover meat in gravy ladled over extra cripsy toast. I like to eat mine with hot cherry peppers, and each bite will have, if I’m lucky, meat, bread, gravy, a smidgeon of some sort of potato (I made scalloped), a little scrap of veg., and a small bit of hot cherry pepper, to cut through all that thick buttery gravy and make the moutful pop.

It’s pouring down cold buckets of icy rain where I am.

Wherever you are, may you be full of something nice and warm.

What’s for dinner at your place?

Instant Noodles with a Side of Love for Valentine’s Day

Published on February 14, 2024March 24, 2024 by diannePLeave a comment

Instant Noodles is an online lit magazine formerly curated by me, alone, and now curated by Old Scratch Press.

For Valentine’s Day, here are a few of my favorite poems about love from the magazine, pieces that I chose for publication.

FIRST MORNING AFTER MOVING ~ Greg Hill

My bureaus and dressers,
all crossed with blue tape,
a sea of cubed cardboard
spilling out into the hallway
and into all the other rooms.

Where is my bedside table?
Why does the morning smell
like fresh coats of paint,
and why a sound
like a parade of identical cars?

My muscles still burn
from the hours of unpacking
from yesterday’s move.

Where is my toothbrush? My comb?

Then I see you,
tranquil and sleeping
and I know
I am home.

Greg’s poem, so sweet, simple about the things that are not fireworks about love, but make us exceedingly happy all the same.

MUTUAL INTERDIGITATION ~ R. Gerry Fabian

We were linked long before we met.
We have been down the same wrong path
at different times with the same rancid rogues.
When we met, I was coming out the wrong side;
you were still there floundering hopelessly.
At first, I didn’t pay you much notice at all.
The death of a dear mutual friend
brought us together at the freshly dug gravesite.
We are good, now, together, walking that tightrope
of ‘fall off the wagon at any time’ good
that depends so much on breathing love’s balance.

Gerry’s poem, about all the ways that love connects us, adds wholeness to our lives, even as we get past the frenzy of youth.

THE BARBARIANS HAD ACTED REGRETTABLY ~ Colin James

My son found the dragon’s tooth amongst
some rocks and fine white sand. He washed
it clean in a tidal pool. A Hermit crab stole it,
scraping the tip then sucking the remnant root.
The boy threw some sand and stole it back.
He climbed up on the rocks with me to sit.
We examined the hard fire, inner blackened.
Easily sold to tourists later, paying us much more
to guarantee their safe return passage .

Colin’s poem I always took to be about parental love: how our children absolutely make us filled and absorbed and imaginative and plain old grateful to be in their magical world.

UNDER KEEL ON LITTLE DOE LAKE ~ Robert Fleming

moon over wooden hull
us under birch wood
left hand forward 4 ur bow
thwarted by ur stern pry stroke
back stroke 2 ur gunnel
seeking ur back sweep stroke
u j-stroke away
non-swimming clothes on
prefer clothes off
cross draw stroke 2 ur dock
u eskimo roll out
ur knee on deck
solo under skin
draw stroke my wood

Robert, a member of Old Scratch Press, may correct me, but I always took this to be a poem at the beginning, heady stage of love, and so much about the abandonment that I always feel in the time of transition from spring to early summer.

WISTFUL DREAM ~ Bethany A. Beeler

Betahany’s poem always seemed like lust to me, which is beefy and delicious, in my view, like biting into a huge strawberry covered in dark, dark chocolate, and certainly an important part of romantic love.

Lastly, on this hopefully gentle day that comes to you with a hug, or, perhaps a kiss, another from Greg Hill, possibly my favorite poem submitted to Instant Noodles to date. Happy Valentine’s Day. May you find love, or love find you!

SATURDAY ~ Greg Hill

the day
starts in bed

we make

coffee and
something from milk

flour eggs
water

in the shower
warming us together

after breakfast

you brush
a dollop of shampoo

on my nose
as I rinse my hair

even the nothing
you do

is something
to me

Old Scratch Press Co-Founder Anthony Doyle Needs Your Vote for Story of the Year!

Published on January 26, 2024February 17, 2024 by diannePLeave a comment

Hi All… Dianne here.

Anthony Doyle’s narrative has been nominated for the SPILLWORDS story of the year!

unfolds a poignant tale of father and son, delving into the essence of masculinity and the relentless quest for validation.

For those familiar with my blog, you’ll recall that Anthony penned the novel HIBERNACULUM, a personal favorite of mine. The decision to publish it was driven by the sheer brilliance of his storytelling, which continues to captivate me.

Anthony is a dedicated independent writer striving to carve his niche, and recognition like this makes a significant impact. Therefore, I urge you, to cast a vote in support of Anthony!

I also nominated him as a write-in candidate for SPILLWORDS Author of the Year. Your backing would mean a great deal to him.

So please, if you have a moment, give Anthony a vote!

HAVE YOU BEEN TO THE BEWILDERNESS?

Published on December 27, 2023December 22, 2023 by diannePLeave a comment

Bewilderness Writing is the brainchild of Old Scratch member Ellis Elliot. Ellis offers so many things for writers on her website. I look forward to the newsletter too, for all its tips and tricks. Check out her site. You’re going to love it!