Thoughts on Winter

Well, I’m back in Spartanburg. Nicholas, Derya, and I returned from the Charlotte Airport late yesterday evening and, even though its a little chillier than normal down here, the weather felt almost temperate in comparison to the brutal, blustering cold that blasted through my five days up north. After four nights spent in my sleeping bag on the sofa of Emily’s storm-windowless living room, my well-heated apartment felt positively toasty, even at room temperature. I readily admit to having been very vocal about my dislike of cold weather in the past, so anybody who knows anything about me probably won’t believe me when I say it (i.e. Rachel: “I miss winter.” John: “You HATE winter.”), but I think living in a slightly warmer climate has helped to bring me closer to my northern, hinterland roots.

I probably should have realized this attachment sooner in my Spartanburg stay, during those Southern summer days that, to a native-Michigander, seemed far too beautiful and rare to be spent inside a climate-controlled room doing work. But coming from the cool, cloudy north - a place where even a modicum of temperate weather has people peeling off hats and jackets, tossing frisbees and “tanning” on blankets strewn across the open, grassy spaces of campuses, and speeding around town on bicycles practically unclothed - it took me a while to realize that here, a thousand miles closer to the equator, beautiful weather is nothing out of the ordinary and definitely no excuse to shirk obligation. Here, the sun comes out every day.

This in mind, I think its not so much that I miss winter, but that I NEED winter. I need to feel that vital struggle against the cold, even if only for a short time. Otherwise, things seem too easy. Though this appetite for difficulty might seem strange, it is a desire that I will admit resembles that triumphant feeling of suffering through the struggles of the creative process - of having battled against something and won. I can’t help but wonder whether South Carolina’s colder temperatures have been related to my recent surge of creative output. With a handful of essays in progress and a notebook-full of poem series’ in the works, I’ve been having to slow myself down just to focus on one thing at a time.

Thanks to the financial support of the Oleander Review and U. of Michigan’s graduate English program, I had the chance to read some of this new work - specifically some poems and (GASP!) another piece of short fiction - last Thursday evening at Shaman Drum Bookshop in Ann Arbor. We had a staggering turnout, and I was thrilled to see the faces of old friends, boyfriends, and professors peeking through the crowd. My most sincere thanks to everyone who attended.

While in Ann Arbor, I hit up all the old favorite places: mornings were spent perusing the shelves of Shaman Drum, where I picked up some David Mitchell, a copy of Grace Paley’s Collected Stories, and (finally) my own copy of Leonard Michaels so I can at last give the Spartanburg Public Library their loaner copy back. In the afternoons I sipped coffee at Ambrosia, ate lobster bisque from Le Dog, and nodded my headphoned-head to new music found in the bowels of WCBN. (Side note: Though I’m loving The Magnetic Fields’ newest Distortion, I realized I might not ever love another album more than their earlier 69 Love Songs, and even though I’m a huge fan of Cat Power, I think her newest Jukebox should have probably been titled Muzak, since I doubt it will ever make it out of my speakers as anything other than background ambience).

My friend and mentor, Ray McDaniel, gave me an advance copy of his forthcoming book of poetry, Saltwater Empire, which is just stunning. I maintain that Ray’s poems are some of the first I turn to when I need to be reminded of what a poem should look and sound like (for example, Through the Shotgun House, with Violins). I spent happy hour drinking Bloody Mary’s at Zanzibar, and evenings downing Bell’s beer at Ashley’s and Old Town. I got to spend nearly the entire visit with some of my favorite people on the planet (Vlad, Jordan, Justin, Emily) who introduced me to the wonders of Guitar Hero and combated the cold with me by guzzling hot toddies and showcasing some stellar dance moves.

That being said, Ann Arbor is a great destination for infrequent visits, but also a town that I realize I am glad to have escaped from so quickly after college. It is not the city itself that unsettles me anymore - the place is rife with intelligent people, great restaurant, bars, and venues to provide whatever form of culture you might desire. I am instead unnerved by its transience. The buildings look the same, the streets are unchanged, but each school-year brings with it an entirely new population of people. Walking down North State Street (basically, memory lane) was, more than ever, a reminder of all of those now-blank spaces where people used to be. For much of my first few months in Spartanburg, I think I imagined myself - like the protagonist of Kieslowski’s film La Double Vie de Veronique - as having an “other,” my own Weronika, who was still carrying on in Michigan, living out the day-to-day details of my old life and waiting for me to return. But now, having visited Ann Arbor again, I think that too many people and pieces of my old life have gone elsewhere for me to live comfortably in that space anymore. I looked for my Weronika, and was glad that I did not find her there.

The worst part of my trip was that bad weather and car trouble kept me from seeing my Mom and Dad, but aside from that I had an excellent time, probably the highlight of which was my return to the Living Writers Show, not as host this time, but as a guest. After racing straight from Detroit Metro Airport to the radio station, I arrived only a few minutes before we went on-air, so things were a little on-the-fly. But I had the opportunity to read some of my nonfiction, as well as a new poem, and talk with the editors of Oleander Review about the gritty details of starting a literary journal from the ground up. You can check out the interview on my website, or just listen to it here:

Reading new work to an audience last week has me primed to make some revisions and to keep creating more new stuff. I know the blog has been a little sparse recently, so, I’m sorry for that. But I’ve been trying to cut as many distractions as possible out of my life . . . less blogging, less movie-watching, maybe even less sleeping - less energy put into places that yield indefinite return. So if my presence here seems a little scarce, trust that my effort is being spent on the endeavor that matters most to me right now - my writing.