Tinderbox

How November invites us to write through the angst

“Is reading Faulkner going to make you a better person? Absolutely not. But the whole universe wants you to be optimized, productive, monetized. And sitting around and reading a work of art when it is not your job to do so is a rebellious act that insists I am a human being, actually, and not a cog, not a good little worker, not a cozy girl eating the slop that is fed to me. And developing the parts of myself that are unproductive, ugly, and a drain on resources is a beautiful act of rebellion.”— Jessa Crispin

,Dear Writers and Readers

This morning, Tom repeated his desire to spend Election Day hosting a phone-free gathering around our fire pit. No political talk. Just togetherness for any of our friends who want to savor the calm before the inevitable storm.

Instead of supporting my anxious husband, who in 2020, went for a midnight three-mile walk to deal with his jitters, I almost snapped his head off.

“I don’t even understand who you are,” I yelled. “Do I even know you? Have you not seen the weather reports? Western Massachusetts is a tinderbox. There’s a severe alert for forest fires! Why would you continue to talk about fire pits?”

I seriously questioned his moral character. I mean, out loud. Like—there is something wrong with your soul, dude.

Of course, I apologized a couple minutes later, but jeez. Talk about tinderboxes.

I think my extreme outburst at my beloved husband, who agrees with me 97% on politics, is simply evidence of the meta situation we’re all struggling with. Do I even know you is the question we’re all asking ourselves about our neighbors, and perhaps our very country.

Do I really love America? Do I really love democracy? Did I ever fully comprehend the meaning of the States part of “United States”? Have we ever really been united?

And maybe “State” is best understood as an ephemeral state of mind, one our founders briefly inhabited when hurriedly trying to cobble together a survival document and an army.

THERE IS HOPE

As my friend Penny Schultz reminded me today, we have never in the history of this country been so close to a true multi-racial democracy. The stakes are high. And the story isn’t over till it’s over.

No matter what, I will spend the weekend after the election writing, in the company of other writers. I will join my fellow Morning Seeding & Tending peeps every weekday at 10am. I got through November 2016 as well as November 2020 by writing with a group of other committed writers, and I know for me that’s the only way I can function.

And I will be writing poetry. I hope each of you signs up for this wonderful annual fundraiser 30 Poems in November for Northampton’s Center for New Americans. In this season of saving democracy, doomscrolling, planning Thanksgiving, and holiday shopping, nothing’s better for the heart and soul and mind than exploring poetry.

To be a poet you can sign up here, or if you want to support another poet, say…I don’t know… me, you can do so here. As usual, I plan on writing a combo of poems, prose poems, and at least one complete song by the month's end. (Last year, I wrote “Still Alive,” which The Nields just debuted at Club Passim in Cambridge, and three of the poems I wrote got published!)

For a ridiculously low price, do something nice for yourself! Get an accountability group, a warm morning beverage and get those 30 poems or 1,667 words written!

From a member of the group, this poem she wrote this morning:

Poem: “10am Morning Seedlings & Tending”

At 9:50, no matter where I am in the world,
my phone notifies me that I should be turning on my laptop.
Even when I can’t rush to my office,
because I’m taking my mother shopping,
or sitting on a beach in Kauai, or driving north to visit
my father,
my heart speeds up, and a warm gush of blood
pulses through my veins.

At that precise moment when others are opening up
their laptops, clicking the link to tune into Nerissa’s prompt,
tapping into their creative energy, or at least exchanging
a brief hello before they log out to their real world.
I know that there is always a place for me there.
A place of accountability and kindness- two words that don’t often align.
Here they do, here on Zoom, in the morning with our
precious seedlings, we tend the words and bring forth our bounty.

––Sarah Ward, 10-25-24

Morning Seeding & Tending

Morning Seeding & Tending is a low-stress, high-joy, no-share writing and accountability group meeting on Zoom, Monday-Fridays, 10-11am Eastern. We start with a brief greeting, a prompt (emailed to members), and set our intentions in the chat. Cameras and sound are usually off while writing. Arrive late or leave early—no problem. The room stays open after 11 for those who want to keep writing. Attend daily, weekly, or whenever you can. Once a quarter, we have a virtual Zoom reading for any of us who wants to share and show off!

After signing up, you’ll get a welcome email and a Zoom link that changes monthly. The month begins whenever you start payments.

By Ko-Fi subscription, it's $20 per month, with automatic payment (like Patreon). AND if you join in the month of October, you’ll get $20 off the Kali retreat if you sign up for that, too!

Best of all? You can start right now! And I’ll even send you a sticker!

I’ll mail you this sticker if you join via my Ko-Fi site!

KALI RETREAT NOVEMBER 8-10!

Only three spots left! Come on inside for my Autumn Kali Retreat, November 8-10, either in person at Little Blue or virtually. Together, we’ll write, sharing deeply and exploring our inner Kali. By the end, you’ll feel refreshed, renewed, and connected to your writing in a powerful new way.

If you attend in person, I’ll also feed you delicious, healthy meals to sustain your creative energy.

This is just what the NaNoWriMo writer and/or the 30 Poems in November poet needs in this big month of writing. I hope to see you here.