A Writer's Moment: To hear 'we just need to listen'

A Writer's Moment: To hear 'we just need to listen':    "The earth is a place of beauty, and we must cherish it.  Nature speaks in whispers; we just need to listen." - Amy Clampitt Bo...

To hear 'we just need to listen'

 

 "The earth is a place of beauty, and we must cherish it.  Nature speaks in whispers; we just need to listen." - Amy Clampitt

Born in New Providence, Iowa on June 15, 1920 Clampitt was a librarian at the Audubon Society in New York City when her first poem was published in 1978.  She went on to write 3 nonfiction books and 9 poetry collections, led by.The Kingfisher in 1983.   So transformative was her poetry that she was awarded a MacArthur (Genius) Grant in 1992.  She used that “no strings attached” grant to work on her final collection, A Silence Opens, published in 1994 (the same year as her death from cancer).  For Saturday’s Poem here is Clampitt’s,

 

Beach Glass 

While you walk the water's edge,
turning over concepts
I can't envision, the honking buoy
serves notice that at any time
the wind may change,
the reef-bell clatters
its treble monotone, deaf as Cassandra
to any note but warning. The ocean,
cumbered by no business more urgent
than keeping open old accounts
that never balanced,
goes on shuffling its millenniums
of quartz, granite, and basalt.
It behaves
toward the permutations of novelty—
driftwood and shipwreck, last night's
beer cans, spilt oil, the coughed-up
residue of plastic—with random
impartiality, playing catch or tag
or touch-last like a terrier,
turning the same thing over and over,
over and over. For the ocean, nothing
is beneath consideration.
The houses
of so many mussels and periwinkles
have been abandoned here, it's hopeless
to know which to salvage. Instead
I keep a lookout for beach glass—
amber of Budweiser, chrysoprase
of Almadén and Gallo, lapis
by way of (no getting around it,
I'm afraid) Phillips'
Milk of Magnesia, with now and then a rare
translucent turquoise or blurred amethyst
of no known origin.
The process
goes on forever: they came from sand,
they go back to gravel,
along with treasuries
of Murano, the buttressed
astonishments of Chartres,
which even now are readying
for being turned over and over as gravely
and gradually as an intellect
engaged in the hazardous
redefinition of structures
no one has yet looked at.

A Writer's Moment: 'How to have more of what you love'

A Writer's Moment: 'How to have more of what you love':   "Take something you love, tell people about it, bring together people who share your love, and help make it better. Ultimately, you...

'How to have more of what you love'

 

"Take something you love, tell people about it, bring together people who share your love, and help make it better. Ultimately, you'll have more of whatever you love for yourself … and for the world." – Julius Schwartz

Born in The Bronx, NY on this date in 1915, Schwartz was DC Comics' primary editor for stories about the company's flagship superheroes Superman and Batman and is credited with helping found the iconic comic book hero group known as The Justice League of America. 

 

He single-handedly helped expand the reach and love for science fiction by organizing the first World Science Fiction Convention in 1939 and then worked to make it a “must attend” annual event.   Inducted into the comics' industry's Jack Kirby Hall of Fame, he also was honored by the Science Fiction Writers Association with its lifetime contributions award.

 

In addition to his editing work, Schwartz wrote the bestselling Man of Two Worlds: My Life In Science Fiction and Comics and was a much sought-after literary agent, representing a “who’s who” of science and comic writers, including Alfred Bester, Robert Bloch, Ray Bradbury and H.P. Lovecraft.

 

Schwartz won numerous awards for his editing, including Best Editor several times before his death in 2004.  Inscribed on his tombstone is a statement reflecting what nearly every writer and editor strive to achieve: “He met the deadline.”

A Writer's Moment: 'It's something you can't wear out'

A Writer's Moment: 'It's something you can't wear out':   “Honesty is something you can't wear out.”  – Waylon Jennings   Born in Littlefield, TX on June 15, 1937 Jennings learned how to pl...

'It's something you can't wear out'

 

“Honesty is something you can't wear out.” – Waylon Jennings
 

Born in Littlefield, TX on June 15, 1937 Jennings learned how to play guitar by the time he was 8 and started in the entertainment business at age 12 – working as a DJ at a local radio station.   In 1954 he befriended rising star Buddy Holly who also became his mentor, collaborating with him on songs and helping produce Waylon’s first record that year.  Among his "most played" hits were Lonesome and Luckenbach, Texas.  He recorded hundreds of songs and was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame and given Country's "Lifetime Achievement Award" before his relatively early death at age 64.

  

Jennings also became a fill-in player for Holly’s group The Crickets and was with him in Iowa on his final tour in the winter of 1959, ending in Holly’s death in a plane crash.  Jennings was supposed to be on that plane with Holly but at the last minute gave up his seat to The Big Bopper because the latter was suffering from a bad cold.

 

Ultimately, Jennings became one of the great songwriters and singers of country, country rock, and a new genre – founded with Willie Nelson, Kris Kristofferson and Jessi Coulter – called “Outlaw Country.”   He, Willie, Johnny Cash and Kristofferson also formed a group known as The Highwaymen and had recorded several hit songs together before he died in 2002 of complications from diabetes.

 

Known for his support of many social issues and causes, Jennings said that was an easy choice.  “A lot of times people don't want to hear it.  But you know, if some good is done to you, you should pass it on.”

A Writer's Moment: Opening those 'magic portals'

A Writer's Moment: Opening those 'magic portals':   “All of us create our own versions of an event, of our lives, even, not because we're liars, necessarily, but because we can only see ...