Hello, readers!

I’m excited to announce that my lineup of ebooks is available as part of a promotion on Smashwords for the month of July as part of their Annual Summer/Winter Sale. This is a chance to get my novels, poetry collections, and Quaker volumes, along with volumes from many other indy authors, at a discount so you can get right to reading. Some of mine are even free, as you’ll see.

The sale begins today, so save the link:
https://www.smashwords.com/shelves/promos/

Please share this promo with friends and family. You can even forward the news to the avid readers in your life.

Thank you for your help and support.

And happy summer reading!

The hardest prompt: a love letter

You’d think these would be the easiest, most natural thing on earth, except that they usually wind up being 99 percent cliché and hot air.

Besides, how many times and ways can you express the dirty stuff, if you dare?

(And be prepared to back it all up in person.)

Really!

In addition, the audience of one can be the world’s most demanding, no matter how fond of you they are.

Even more difficult, add to the assignment something I heard a writing prof say, quoting another one: Never revise a love letter.

Nope, let it gush forth.

~*~

For further humiliation, there was an instance when I was living in the ashram and writing a reply to a beloved’s epistle when several of my fellow yogi residents came up and grabbed my effort, grimaced, and declared, “If I received that, it would be the end of the relationship.”

Those girls were so full of helpful insights, as you’ll find in my novel Yoga Bootcamp.

~*~

Well, I’ve never been good at pickup lines, either.

~*~

About a dozen years ago, I had a spree in the loft of our old barn when I went through the remaining letters to me from girlfriends and lovers over the years.

Earlier ones had been helpful when I was drafting my novels Daffodil Uprising and Nearly Canaan. What jumped out at me in this round was their underlying unhappiness apart from me. It didn’t make for a good give-and-take in a relationship. No wonder things didn’t work out in the long run.

The time for the ritual burning was way overdue. It took longer than I would have guessed.

~*~

More recently I came across some surviving letters written on computer, some of them that were then sent by the postal service and others that went by email.

The ones I wrote now embarrass me. As for theirs? A gentleman won’t say, though they reflect a long search for a fitting relationship that never panned out, like panning for gold. My, all the hours I spent writing those and reading the responses!

Once more, though, a purge is overdue.

We could get into a discussion regarding the intimacy of handwritten letters versus legibly typed ones, though that’s largely moot now that the exchanges have shifted to emails and cell phone texts. That topic deserves its own conversation. For now, let me say that the playful back-and-forth with my now wife via America Online when we were getting to know each other is woven into my Prelude & Fugues poems available at Thistle Finch editions.

~*~

Back to the advice about never revising a love letter. I find it useful as an ideal for other kinds of personal writing, too. Just let it pour out, best as you can. Not that it usually proves so easy.

Yeah, yeah, I fall back heavily on the revise-revise-revise emphasis elsewhere, along with the adage, “Talent goes into the first draft; genius comes in the revisions.”

Still, some of those love letters gave rise to the poems in my collections Braided Double-Cross, Blue Rock, and Long-Stem Roses in a Shattered Mirror (upcoming).

Let me add to that the only time – well, just about – that I face the dreaded writer’s block is when having to come up with something spiffy on, say, a get-well card. Like the ones they used to pass around the office. I know of a truly major writer who agrees with me there. Maybe sympathy cards are even worse. You can’t go with “Miss you” there, and nearly everything else is so trite.

~*~

One final concern I’ll raise while we’re circling around the topic involves what would we say to each other now, all these years later. At one time, I tried to find out, thanks to Facebook. It wasn’t encouraging. Some who had been hot on my end barely remembered me.

And while I had tried to be conscious of their objections or potential feelings of hurt in reading the fictional accounts of our lives, I finally had to realize they never read what I had written after our breakups or differing directions.

Ouch! Most of them I missed more than they did of me.

Sound familiar?

~*~

You can find Braided Double-Cross in the digital platform of your choice at Smashwords, the Apple Store, Barnes & Noble’s Nook, Scribd, Sony’s Kobo, and other fine ebook retailers. You can also ask your local library to obtain it.

As a counterpoint to the political conventions

The poems in this rant aren’t in my usual voice, but they do address today’s political precipice, only from a slightly earlier historical perspective. And yes, that’s scary.

For this month only, I’m offering the ebook for free at Smashwords.com during its annual July sales sweep. What do you have to lose? Remember, it’s free.

Just go to my Jnana Hodson author page at Smashwords.com.

 

Just in time for the fireworks

The poems in this rant aren’t in my usual voice, but they do address today’s political precipice, only from a slightly earlier historical perspective. And yes, that’s scary. Kinda like the Fourth of July fireworks that way.

For this month only, I’m offering the ebook for free at Smashwords.com during its annual July sales sweep. What do you have to lose? Remember, it’s free. I promise you’ll get a bang out of this.

Check it out at my author page at Smashwords.com.

 

As an inspiration for considering gargoyles

How would you answer the question, “Who are you?”

It can be harder than you think, especially when it comes to getting past the superficial answers.

Now, look in the mirror and try to imagine yourself carved in stone. Some features will be exaggerated, of course, but at some point, an angel or other truth may also be released.

This is prompted by the release of my collection, Hamlet: A Village of Gargoyles, which can be found in the digital platform of your choice at Smashwords, the Apple Store, Barnes & Noble’s Nook, Scribd, Sony’s Kobo, and other fine ebook retailers. You can also ask your public library to obtain it.

In the meantime, a wonderful gallery is available for your viewing at the fine New England-based blog Gargoyles and Grotesques.

There you’ll see that these sculpted images aren’t confined to cathedrals or Gothic castles. In fact, they’re all around us.

They could even inspire another set of poems.

If you like people-watching and eavesdropping, check out this

Today’s the release date for Hamlet: A Village of Gargoyles, and I’d love for you to check it out.

The 200-plus off-beat poems of my collection were composed well before I relocated to a real-life village and, by then, many of the pieces had appeared in literary journals around the globe. What I’ve seen since comes as confirmation.

And now they’re together in one volume, as originally intended.

The pages present candid, surreal, often humorous confessions by various community members who span the generations and occupations of an imaginary locale. They’re the kind you may chance upon in a comic strip, support group, or while walking the dog in your own neighborhood.

Opening the book can be like opening their door, for that matter.

You can find it in the digital platform of your choice at Smashwords, the Apple Store, Barnes & Noble’s Nook, Scribd, Sony’s Kobo, and other fine ebook retailers. You can also ask your public library to obtain it.

One day, October

1, the hokku

Ripe orange descending
And then the sharp scythe new moon
With her consort, Venus

 

2, the long version

Orange-fruit globe ascending
Silvery lakes between fog-wisped forests
Many miles intervening

Same orange glop descending
And then the sharp scythe new moon
With her consort, Venus

In time for Chinese New Year

Holding cup atop a crate of books.

In past years, we’ve had Chinese college students stay with us during their term breaks. They were in Dover and nearby communities to work volunteer internships, usually a month long, and the New Hampshire Children’s Museum was a popular choice.

They would often bring a gift, typically fine green tea, but this one initially perplexed me until it was pointed out that it’s a holding cup for things like pens and pencils and is inscribed with four popular poems.

Cynthia later transcribed them, with translations in English.

She had no idea I am a poet, or that her gift would be so appropriate.

With the Chinese New Year on Friday, we’ll be thinking of her and the others who have brightened our household.

Here’s what she wrote out:

Page One
Page Two
Page Three
Page Four
And the cup itself, all forming a kind of scroll here.

One way I kept my unconventional sanity

I relied on writing poetry and fiction in my spare time as a discipline to counteract the conventions of newspaper editing, my professional career.

The job could feel quite dulling of any aesthetic awareness, and quite confining.

Still, some of the qualities between my vocation and avocation overlap, including an insistence on factual observation.

And now I’m free to focus more fully on my literary aspirations. Surprisingly, my focus has been on the fiction, rather than poetry. Could it be that without that dual tension of before, I can now steer a route between them?

How do you stay mentally sharp?