|© KJ Hannah Greenberg, 2011|
May 2013: Thrill Rides versus Social Status
I am sincerely grateful to blog for a few international outlets, to write books across genres, and to rock on with a handful of periodicals’ editors. Despite the comfort concomitant with such prospects, some of my dear ones are still wont to ask “what’s a nice girl like you doing in a profession like that?
Whether or not those beloved people ever read Frances Bacon’s Of Wisdom for a Man's Self, or otherwise come in contact with Bacon’s notion that one ought to "[b]e so true to thyself, as thou be not false to others,” their question shows their failure to grasp that playing with words suits me. Their comments about my “wasting” my education, or about my being irresponsible because of my small earnings, demonstrate their lack of understanding of me and their refusal to regard my publications, awards, teaching and editing opportunities as blessings. Such kin will never take notice, either, of the legitimate sweat equity that writers require and that I produce, to move my works from nascent ideas to published texts, all the while being mindful that if heaven doesn’t smile down on me, nothing gets accepted.
Resentment routes regression. Wishing for horses to sprout wings is entirely foolhardy. Hence, it’s best for me to say “ouch,” to shrug, and to move on. I write for some of the same reasons that I let my nails grow or that I trim my hair; the choice works in my case. That is, the romantic nature of texts’ railcars lingers, for me, long after unreliable propulsion-based amusements flit from public favor. I never became the lawyer certain family members wanted me to be, plus, I had the audacity to leave my role as a rhetoric professor in order to run with imaginary hedgehogs. What’s more, since I believe (hopefully with sufficient modesty) that my verbal thrill vehicles bring people skyward, and return them, a little bit breathy, back to Earth, while all along employing all due engineering safety, I actually like my work.
More specifically, my assembled words feature a limited number of special inversions, spread over small surfaces, toward the goal of supplying big adventure. Like a roller coaster entertainment, my pages provide swift pleasure. My writing rarely promises to help either my audiences or myself achieve emotional balance. Whereas glimpses into human dynamics are integral to my writing, but so, too, is bald fun. The epistemology I hold dear embraces the importance of living joyfully. Thus, I construct loops and chutes and continue not to worry about riches or social status. With a bit of luck, I will remain that way.
It follows that when you help yourself to the below listed sampling of my April publications you are well advised to keep your seatbelt on.Poetry:
"The Warrior's Mother." Mad Swirl.
"Quaternary Glaciation in the American Midwest." The Camel Saloon.
"Ah, the Aardvark: Classifying Chaos in an Urban Zoo." Qarrtsiluni.
"Considerations for Yom Hoashoah: Better a Lion's Tail." Poetry Super Highway.