Next June, my first book Pause, Traveler will be released by Boreal Books, an imprint of Red Hen Press. That’s nine months from now. I feel expectant, nervous, and detached. Detached? How is that possible? Well, nine months is a long way off, and it’s hard to even imagine what it will feel like to hold my book in my hands. It’s like imagining Christmas morning in April. But mostly I feel excited. It’s an amazing privilege to be published, especially by a press like Boreal Books whose other titles I’ve admired so much.
I had another opportunity to read poetry to a group of people this past weekend. I started with Keats’s “To Autumn,” then “Echoing Light” by W.S. Merwin, and finished with Naomi Shihab Nye’s “Valentine for Ernest Mann.” There is a sort of sympathetic resonance that arises in a room when poetry is read, the vibration of the reader’s voice entering the bodies of the listeners. When we write, we are hoping to share an experience with our readers (or listeners), and we strive to craft words that resonate on two levels, connotation and craft. And then our audience brings their own experience to the work which amplifies certain tonalities and meaning. I am looking forward to the relationship Pause, Traveler will have in the world. Even though I will not know whose life it touches, I will be content to know it is out there, spreading ripples as a small stone tossed in the ocean.
(By the way, you can drop me an email with your name and mailing address at erin (at) beingpoetry (dot) com if you’d like to receive a postcard with more information about Pause, Traveler.)