One-Armed Paper Hanger

So even with my good intentions to breathe life back into the blog, it’s been on life support in ICU for another week, hanging on by a thread (though not of active conversation) and waiting for an injection of adrenalin. But not because there is nothing to write about on Goose Creek. Far from it. And I do not apologize for personal sloth. Oh NO!

My goal was to ship out five bits from the upcoming book for (possible but not certain) inclusion in lit-mags to establish some writing cred–and perhaps attract attention of an agent or publisher. I did it, and so now moving on to other things.

On the positive end, I am finding wonderful resources for publishers, publications and writers who might be kindred spirits and a help towards the goal of printing for “One Place Understood: Field Notes from a Personal Ecology.” I’ve changed the name back since I mocked up a cover a month ago. (It won’t be this dark and will contain more color. And if I succeed in getting it third-party published, they’ll hijack the cover and the title, so I’m not spending much time on this just now.)

One bright spot has been the discovery of the ASLE–the Association for the Study of Literature and the Environment. I have joined as a member, and look forward to learning as a folk-writer from these mostly-academic professionals.

ASLE is where slow thinking (scholarly and artistic research and writing) meets swift action (we cannot truly be environmental humanists unless we are willing to become environmental activists). We study, write, compose and create because we care about issues like biodiversity, environmental justice, survival in a time of endemic precarity and global catastrophe, and the effects of climate change on humans and nonhumans alike. These concerns have long histories, and we believe that we can look to the past to imagine alternative futures. We do not have easy solutions to the problems that face us, but we do have faith that widened community is our best way forward. 

Just so you know: I’ve been busier than…you know; and had a cat to help every step of the way.

Mosey loves the melted ice from last night’s bourbon and Pepsi