Kathe Koja | Writing about writing

Poetry (from ‘poiesis’/ποίησις), a making: forming, creating, or the art of poetry, or a poem) is a form of literary art in which language is used for its aesthetic and evocative qualities, in addition to, or in lieu of, its apparent meaning.

So says Wikipedia … I love that “apparent” more than I can say.

Emily Dickinson. Christopher Marlowe. Rumi.

Do men die miserably for the lack of a poem? Who explains the world to you? Do you do it yourself?

Franz Wright. Sylvia Plath. Arthur Rimbaud.

Edgar Guest?

Wislawa Szymborska.

I first titled this post “Go and write a poem.” The title it has now means the same thing.

If we are sighted, we read with our eyes. We take in character – from the story; from the world in the room around us, the bus, the top of the stairway, the cubicle hallway – with our eyes. Actors act with their eyes, as well as with their bodies, their voices, what is said and how; or not.

Watching the auditions for our performance of Under the Poppy – watching the rehearsals – watching the actors, a body quiet in a chair: I’m taking in the story with my own eyes, as if I were reading it again; anew. As a writer this is humbling and exhilarating and so very valuable, seeing what the actors make of the words, seeing how they take in, then decide to use or not use, the rhythms there, finding and making a way with their bodies through the landscape of the text, explorers, buccaneers, tricksters, charmers. Will this change the way I see, the way I work? How can it not? Thank you, actors. I’m watching you.

Under the Poppy comes to the Detroit Institute of Arts – save the date, 2/17/12, 8 PM – a sentence it gives me great pleasure to post. Many thanks to Larry Baranski, DIA director of public programs, for the invitation and hospitality.

Collaborating with filmmaker Diane Cheklich and puppet artist Megan Harris, and co-producing with Julanne Jacobs, we plan to create an atmosphere as darkly pleasurable, as we bring the tale of the Poppy to the halls of the museum, watched – and no doubt watched over – by the puppets of the Paul McPharlin Collection. Come to Detroit and be part of that pleasure. And if you have a top hat, you might want to bring it along, too . . .

Your life is the paintstick and Life is the wall. Tagging allowed. Happy New Year!

Holidays are for giving: this is encoded into our cultural DNA. The right gift for the right person means you yourself are a good person, a wise shopper, a perfect parent, the best BFF/partner/whatever ever.

But do you know how to take?

So much of what writing is is based on learning that very lesson: how to accept, to let go of the way the words “should” go, and thus create the space for what needs to grow: sometimes in silence; sometimes in a long, long silence. Sometimes this is very hard for a writer to accept; sometimes it’s painfully impossible. But it’s what we have to learn to do if the work we need to do is to be done.

And may I suggest that it’s a lesson transferable to daily life as well? Especially now? Don’t worry so much about giving – gifts, help, opinions, egg nog, advice . . . Open your hands. Try to wait, to take, to accept. See what happens. Happy holidays.

It’s the book that introduced me – as an adult – to the voice of Russell Hoban. Pathos, dark humor, derring-do, mud and violence and The Last Visible Dog; and the love, bravery, grief and joy of the clockwork mice. Rest in peace, Russell Hoban, your work is busy in the world.

Two passing tadpoles swam between him and the BONZO can, where they encountered a water snake.  “This way, please,” said the snake, and swallowed them.

“It looks bad,” said one of the tadpoles, as they disappeared down the snake’s throat.

“You never know,” said the other. “If we can just get through this, maybe everything will be all right.” – from THE MOUSE AND HIS CHILD

You never know where lightning will strike, or, to use the botanical metaphor, which plantings will bloom longest. But “The Neglected Garden” is a story of mine that truly has a life of its own. I remember the “garden” in question, the backyard of a house where I spent a very happy spring and summer; I remember writing the story, and my pleasure when it sold. And then it was published, and people read it, and have been reading it in various places ever since.

Now the story is  happily at home at the Weird Fiction Review, invited there by Jeff and Ann VanderMeer’s vision and taste, and is included as well in their anthology The New Weird. Where will it grow next, and in whose reading, whose memory? Will it seed other stories? And what is it about this short, quiet, harsh little tale that makes it resonate for readers, for so long?  Will it resonate for you?Art by Rick Lieder: “The Neglected Garden.”

I’m very pleased and proud to announce that Under the Poppy has won the 2011 Gaylactic Spectrum Award for Best Novel. I hadn’t known my book was on the shortlist, so it was a wonderful surprise to learn I’d won.

The judges said “In Koja’s skillful hands, the novel engages the reader from the start, provides a way to taste and smell the world through brilliantly-crafted prose, and presents a heart-wrenching romance.”  Thank you, Spectrum judges!

It was also a pleasure to find Under the Poppy in more fine company at Band of Thebes’ listing of the best LGBT books of the year, chosen by other writers. My own choice is on that list as well, alongside best-ofs from Brent Hartinger, Sarah Waters, Stacey D’Erasmo, Peter Cameron . . . Here’s to the incomparable joy of reading, here’s to the pleasure of getting lost in a writer’s world!

“Love Is A Puppet” made its passionate and singular appearance at Victorian Opulence, the elegant phantasmagoria of an evening at District VII Detroit. Jordan Whalen reprised his role as Istvan, and Andrick Siegmund played Gabriel, the very earthy angel, as the audience watched from the secluded booth and perched high up on the stairs. . . . A wonderful performance, a wonderful night. Bravo, gentlemen of the road!

Under the Poppy is very pleased to take part in Victorian Opulence, where “Love Is A Puppet” will be performed for one night only. For those of you who came to our event during the People’s Art Festival at the Russell Industrial Center, this is the next way station on the road that leads to the full performance under the Poppy’s own roof.  For those who have not, welcome to our show! Sip the chocolate, taste the petits fours, inhale the scent of roses, tip your top hat … I’ll be happy to sign your copy of the novel as well, as you take in the visual art, the corsetry show, and the reading from Tennyson. Victorian dress is much encouraged. See you in Rivertown, downtown Detroit, with the moon on the water and the frost on the ivy, too.