P.S. 2018

I love winter. I must since I chose to move north to Minnesota 15 years ago. It’s not the cold, it’s the 3 solid months of writing and reading with very little distraction. Cycling does not lure me out onto the forested trails and social invitations slow down to a crawl. No one wants to leave their home either and that’s fine.  I have plenty of paper and ink to spare.

Last winter, I committed to waking up at 5am and working on my novel before work. I had a smoke damaged, sooty copy of a 2nd draft I wrote 10 years before. It was somewhere to start. So, I scanned the 263-page document using optical character recognition software and imported that into Scrivener. After 1.5 months of work, it was formatted and cut up into sections, chapters, and scenes.

For the next 1.5 months, I wrote roughly 22,000 words of new content; total word count is sitting around 143,000 words. Now, I realize that if you participate in NANOWRIMO that 22K in 1.5 months is a puny amount… but what can I say? Slow but sure… It feels like I am writing a different book. 10 years will do that. Characters and the basic story are roughly the same, but I am not. I’ve had some practice. My writing voice is much more confident and authentic.

But 2018 was a tough year. By April, I was absorbed in implementing software at work and in May my mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I did not have the energy or emotional resources to continue work on the book. I did continue to write poetry and post on my blog. I attended many poetry open mics and had my first show as a featured poet in March 2018. And I rode an emotional roller coaster for the rest of the year, often overwhelmed and feeling like a deer in headlights.

In November, I had a revelation: I was still hiding. I wrote for literally decades and shared very little of my work with anyone. I set-up my blog in 2014 and did not start posting on it until 2017 after I sent ‘Popcorn from the Void’ off to my editor. But I was mostly posting poems. I could still fool myself into thinking I was being vulnerable- and I was- but not in a way that people could see a clear picture of me. I could still hide behind the form.

‘Popcorn from the Void’ is a book based off personal essay blog posts that Todd Park used to manage his cancer- both in providing information to family and friends and in processing his experience. Was I not about to walk through my mother’s cancer and death? And could my personal essays about this journey help others?

My 2018 blog stats are very modest but solid: 43 posts, 1,147 visitors, 1,733 views, 107 total followers. That means I averaged 40 views per post and 10 visits per follower. There aren’t a lot of you, but you are loyal! I had two shows in which I was one of the featured readers. And I submitted ‘Popcorn from the Void’ to the 2018 Writers Digest Self-Published Book Awards. And while it did not win, it received a rave review from its judge and scored 30/30 points on its assessment. Not bad for an amateur.

So dear readers, 2019 promises to be an even tougher year personally but it is also the year that I intend to try to be published for real, for the first time. And it will be a year of personal essays where I will feel very, very naked. And it will be the year of my first finished novel.

It has to be… if I want to be sure mom can read it…

Blessed New Year!

Christine

 

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, January 2019

Your Eyes, My Breath

You seem surprised
Full of surprises
Words ring
Truth always does

You can feel
Space there
Full of what remains
Unspoken

But keep guessing
Work to figure it out
Wrong, wrong again
So well hidden

Impossible to read
Hiding in plain sight
Many, many stories
Tried to dismiss

There traces
They call you
Draw you in
Come here

Stop staring
Stop hiding
Come here
God damn it!

No? No more women for you?
No more loving, laughter
Hot filthy sex to anger
Neighbors with its volume?

No expectations
Only wishes
We can keep going
Until one of us is dead

Summer approaches
Sheet of white cloud
Strain an impossible sky
Drench the earth

I want
I need
More than anything
To love you



-Copyright C.M. Mounts, April 2017

Summer’s End

I can’t really remember
What I have been doing
These past months, years

Maybe it is a mercy
Maybe it is survival
Maybe it is the only way

To get through it
To the other side
To the down time

I guess we all have the option
To not get involved
Close the door, turn on the TV

Shut it out, shut it down, shut it off
20 + 20 + 20 is an hour
To focus that long isn’t that hard

Run ink tracks through the page
Ride rubber into the sunrise
Coffee fueled, driven, driven mad

Long nights, sit in summer
Meditative rhythm of the respirator
Company of paper and sterile gauze

Passersby issue the hairy eyeball
Jaded nurses yearn for retirement
She walks now, I run

If I could get on my bike
Turn back time
No one would see me til September

 

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, August 2017

Mid-year review: Jan-Jun 2018

It’s July. About this time six months ago, I was scanning the sooty remains of one of the drafts of one of my novels through optical character recognition (OCR) software and importing it into Scrivener. If you write long works of fiction but have not heard of Scrivener before, check it out!

I spent 1.5 months (Jan-Feb) organizing that mess into chapters and scenes; character, scene, and conflict sketches; vague ideas and lists of topics to research- all to find the holes. And Lordy, there were canyons. So, I spent the next 1.5 months (Feb-Apr) ‘shoveling gravel’ into the gaps, to the order of about 25,000 words of new content. It is a pittance to all you NANOWRIMO’s out there but it is realistic progress for a full-time working schlub like me. I can’t apply the brakes on life and focus solely on my book in the way that the November National Novel Writing Month requires to reach that 50K goal.

Then came silence. No progress on the book. Apr-Jun were all about the ‘Spring Thaw’ of my social life. I took a cooking class that ate up my hours with kitchen adventure. I took a couple trips, one for business and one for pleasure, plus had out of town guests. But mostly, writing became about poetry, poetry events, poetry classes, and connecting with a wider writing community which has been wonderful and revitalizing.

But books don’t write themselves…

Time and energy are limited resources and unfortunately, my mother is in cancer treatment now. I have to get real about my stress levels and where to focus myself. Someone wise once said, “I can’t control the wind. I can only adjust my sails.” So, as I reef the mainsail, I pull back on the social side of writing, miss opportunities to read, and classes of interest. It’s just where I am at today.

Still, over the last 6 months, I produced 27 blog posts: 15 poems, 7 essays, 2 travel logs, and 3 posts about the poetry readings I had in the spring. Poetry writing will continue because I can’t help it. And my blog remains my weekly ritual as this is the only place I talk about my ‘writing career’, such as it is.

But I have already recommitted to the 5am wake up for the 5:30 writing hour before work, dedicated to my novel. I am typing up my hand-written notes and charging once again into the breech. Book writing is not glamorous. It is a long, arduous, mostly thankless journey through a writer’s personal hell.

I have books to read and write, my friends… Happy summer!

 

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, July 2018

Breaker

Under the surface
Under the film, foam
Is the sea washing rocks
Wearing them away, slowly

To trace a finger along the surface
Is to invite something:
Fear, resistance, or danger
Of acceptance and desire

Those of us who
Dip our hands within
To feel the temperature
Are not sure what to do

When it is fine
Mostly without desire
To disturb the water
Our own rocks weigh heavy

Disrupt, cause undercurrents
Wish to cause no harm
Only to know, be known
But the deep end, no matter

Temptation will swallow whole
Float dead or thrash
Struggle to get out
Only to beg to get back in

Water will have changed
No buoyancy left
Cast out on the rocks
Body broken heart

 

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, June 2018

Silent Goodbyes

Walk into your home
Your back to me
Is this really my final
Memory of you, friend?

It isn’t
First time someone got
Wrong impression
It won’t be the last

But can you not see
Past the gate?
Of course you can
I struggle to think

I float home- What is this?
It’s not what I am after
But the connection is real
If unwanted by you

Two decades
Too much a gap
You will deny it
I will accept that

But as you dig in
You fall, you long
You protect
You turn, you lash

Goodbye, would-be lover.
If the distance in time
Between were shorter
Life would be different
 

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, September 2017

Ginger

Stir fry fresh onions, garlic, ginger,
Lemon peel in a little peanut oil
Die from the fragrance that
Erupts in your kitchen

It is the smell of love to me
Of friends and family
Coming to dinner at my house
They enjoy the food

I enjoy them
I want to know how they are
I want to know their plans
Their dreams, hopes, challenges

I want to feed them spicy food
That wafts out my window
Makes the neighbors jealous
I want to fill my life

Sauces and spices
Explode my head
Grand delight of living
Fasting satisfaction

 

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, June 2018