Tuesday, June 24, 2014
We went out for Thai, which, has been mentioned a few times on social media, in celebration. With our families, so that meant, essentially, that Brett and her husband Will and I talked about things like the subject GREs and Shakespeare in the Park and Ryan chased after our kids. (Thank you, Ryan-who-did-the-coding-for-the-website and father-of-my-children, you are amazing.)
The first issue is up, and we've gotten so many good bits of feedback:
- Diane Lockwood gave us a shout out in her blog post "Promising New Online Journals."
- The blogger Miss Fickle Reader featured us in her post Good Writing Break: Post-Summer Solstice Edition by saying we have "an attractive site" with "an impressive lineup of work in its debut issue." She mentions Ray Gonzlalez's poem "In the Cottonwoods", Ed Bok Lee's sonic translation, Emily Yoon's poem about the Korean ferry sinking, and Kelli Russell Agodon's moving piece on mourning. And then: "Bravo, editors!" Thank you, Miss Fickle Reader.
Other words I've seen floating up on Facebook: badass, gorgeous, stunning, wonderful, beautiful, etc. (I'm a bit fond of 'badass,' myself.)
One poet said, "It turns out the world needed Tinderbox!"
Another, "This is beautiful! I'll admit that at first I thought, gee, *another* journal? -- but these poems are spectacular. Congratulations!"
I know, I know. There's that silly phrase "humble brag," and there's absolutely nothing humble about my post, and that's OK. I'm celebrating myself, or rather--I'm celebrating this thing Brett and I did, along with my husband. It started as a seed in late winter and here we are, the start of summer, and we have done something so good. I'm proud of all these poems, separately and together. I'm proud of these poets for writing such beautiful, stunning poems we had to create a home for them. They are why I wanted to do this. I'm proud of how hard we worked to get this thing where it is. I'm proud (and terrified) of its potential. I'm glad for this opportunity to edit like a motherfucker.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
It's getting serious: I've ordered business cards. They're due at the end of the month. (I love that, after you've approved the image, they send you to a screen that makes it look like someone is holding them--with very well-trimmed nails, I might add.)
Tinderbox Poetry Journal launches in less than a week. (June 21!) We're still working out a few kinks, but our issue is set: we are featuring twenty-seven (two! seven!) poets in this issue. We're wrasslin' those last scraggly poems into place, telling the formatting to please, please, for the love of all that's holy, BEHAVE! and dusting our logo. It's a-comin', ladies and gentlemen, whether any of us are ready for it or not.
Saturday, May 24, 2014
Monday, May 19, 2014
We drove in a few circles to meet an old bookstore friend of mine and to walk around the grounds of the Rocky Mountain Raptor Program. The green came earlier in Colorado, furzing the landscape. And wilted cacti, insect-etched wood.
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Saturday, May 3, 2014
One of the things I wanted to do the most with this recent trip to Ft Collins was to see the places that are becoming a part of my best friend's everyday life. We were able to visit Wolverine Farm, where Meryl volunteers, both as a bookseller and as an artist. They had a story hour, which we attended, and Maya made a paper lantern with Meryl. She covered the handle with stickers; I think she prefers simple but earthy design, like her mama. (Right? Of course.) Finn has really taken to M too; here he is cuddling up in her arms. So, so sweet. These kids are pretty smart, knowing who to trust and who to love.
Friday, May 2, 2014
The kids rolled up their pant legs and waded in the water. We have two SLRs now, so you get to see me in photographs once in a while too, which I am bearing, as I do understand the littles will want to know they had a mama growing up, even if she spent most of her time behind the lens. I'd rather look at my husband's handsome face. The sun was out, full force, the fields brittle from winter melt. Ryan climbed up the rocks to get a better vantage point; it never surprises me to see him scuttling up and up. There's no wonder where our daughter gets it. I love that last photograph of her. I was spoiled by Meryl, who carried Finn much of the way. Spoiled. Look at the sky. Look at the sky.