Pushcart Prize Nominations Announced

Although the deadline for Pushcart Prize nominations snuck up on me this year, I am getting our nominations mailed out this week; a huge thank you to Carrie Wicks for assisting in the selection process. 

Please visit the Mouse Tales Press blog for the nominations. Thank you!

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News about the Future of Mouse Tales Press

Four Years of Mouse Tales Press

Shortly after I started Mouse Tales Press, I asked my friend Elizabeth Johnson if she would be interested in copyediting for the site. 

Read more at this link . . . 

Visit Mouse Tales Press on MagCloud.

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A Day of Poetry Makes Me Happy

Today has been a happy day for me. Not only did the MouseTales Press team finish pulling together the print copy of the January issue, but I also received news that my poem, “Coffee Dates,” was selected as one of Robert Lee Brewer’s top ten poems from his somonka challenge.

“The somonka is comprised of two tankas written as love letters–each tanka from one of two lovers.”

Regarding that mine is more about a breakup than love: Robert always accepts variations on form "rules." 

Coffee for One

 Coffee Dates

I nurse memories
of you in tiny teacups,
no milk. You cannot
be diluted. I swallow
your bitterness through clenched teeth.

I gave up coffee
and you, both a waste of taste
and time. I sold all
my teacups when I gave you
away on Valentine’s day.

Thanks for visiting and I hope you will visit Mag Cloud soon to see (or better yet, to help support a small press by making a purchase!) the January 2014 issue of Mouse Tales Press.

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Six Years Gone - Missing Dad

Tomorrow is the anniversary of my father’s death, but September also marks another anniversary. It’s the month in 2010 that I started Mouse Tales Press, named in honor of my father’s childhood nickname for me.

Every year that has passed until now, I’ve had a hard time believing he is gone. Somehow, some time this year, I finally accepted it. Or maybe it has just sunk in that it's real.

My emotions, once raw and close to the surface, now feel buried. I’ve somehow shut them away. But I don’t want to be like that. I want to feel them. I don’t think tears or sadness are a sign of weakness. I think they are a sign of strength.  

Anyway, I sense this is why I’ve struggled with my writing the past couple of months.

Yesterday though, I had some sort of break in that struggle. I started a series of poems that gave me an idea for a handmade poetry/art book. Two of the poems are being sent out on postcards, so I can’t reveal those yet.

Below is a taste of the project that may mean nothing to anyone else. Still, I feel it’s something I have to do.

Look Carefully and You Will See

Six Years Gone

On the eve of your (death)
anniversary, a lone shoe
follows me down streets, busy
and quiet. I wonder
who lost that shoe. I realize
you have no feet
anymore. Suddenly,
jogging makes me cry.

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(I wrote this last night. Today is the anniversary.)

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Living In Your Shadow - A Poem and An Announcement

When I was a child, I felt disappointment that I shared a birthday with Emily Dickinson. I didn’t understand her poetry and felt she was old-fashioned. Ha! Hey, remember, I was a kid.

 

Last fall, I joined the Modern & Contemporary American Poetry course through Coursera, which happened to have Emily Dickinson on the syllabus.

 

I wound up letting the class fall by the wayside while I tended to other more pressing commitments. But not before I learned a bit more about Ms. Dickinson.

 

I decided I kind of like the gal. Now I see we have some things in common.

 

And so this was born, a poem I wrote as a joke. Even so, I kind of like it:

Interpreting Emily's Poetry

 Living In Your Shadow

Sometimes I feel like Emily Dickinson’s shadow,

forbidden to flatter myself or flounce my dress, ink-

stained cheeks force isolation, denied

a paperless life, required to sit with legs

held tight, be a lady, hands designed

to shovel gritty pain from each

word, uncover gassy explosions,

reveal bulbous traits, onions I pull up from mossy

carpeting in my lived-in room.

Sometimes I feel like Emily Dickinson’s shadow,

locked inside dusty dictionary, tossing words back

and forth, Walt Whitman sitting on opposite page, pencil

behind his perceptive brow, relax, let the words come

as they may, be what they want, no ulterior

meanings, deliver them to the world.

Sometimes I feel like Emily Dickinson’s shadow,

my feet, a lamp base, my eyes the switch, hands

dangling down, tendrils of a spying plant

that reads each word, wavering in the windstorm

caused by this game of catch

with vocabulary.

Sometimes I feel like Emily Dickinson’s shadow.

And sometimes my poetry just sucks.

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So did you like that last line? I guess I was a frustrated writer that day.

Another memory that stands from my childhood is the frequent occurrence of a particular career recommendation that often came up in career quizzes and astrologically-predicted career paths.

Which career? The publishing field. Yes, it was another thing I balked at. I never saw myself enjoying what I do now; running Mouse Tales Press literary magazine.

If you are a friend of mine on Facebook, you will probably know that, a day or so ago, I promised an announcement. 

Please visit the Mouse Tales Press blog to read more. (Er, uh, well, visit it soon. I still need to write that up.)

Have a nice evening!

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Book Giveaway

Though I’m feeling a bit disoriented today, I did manage to make a book.

I'm working on perfecting my skills because I've had this dream of creating some handmade books for Mouse Tales Press with some selections since the magazine's birth.

Supplies:
• Recycled cardboard
• 10 Sheets of printer paper
• A photograph I took in Idaho printed onto 1 heavy sheet of paper
• Ribbon

Instead of hand sewing this book like I’ve done with all my other creations, I decided to sew it on my machine. I was pleasantly surprised at how it turned out.

Now I’m curious, would anybody like to win this?

Are you Up for a Challenge?

One of my goals this year is to increase my blog followers. I know, I know. The best way to draw readers is to write posts that people want to read. I'm . . . **cough** . . . still working on that one.

The challenge? Whoever can get me the most fans wins this little book.

On the ending date, just email with the names of people you got to fan "this here" blog. Please only one email per person though. Send it to LGHatton(at)gmail(dot)com.

This is all an experiment, so maybe I'm being delusional. Heh heh heh .. hey, at least I'm trying.

Thank you!


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