-
Interviews
- Judith Lagana
- Marcia LeBeau
- Hayden Saunier
- Marylou Kelly Streznewski
- Jane Edna Mohler
- Sandra Becker
- Diane Sahms-Guarnieri
- Phyllis Purscell
- Steve Nolan
- Daniel Flore
- Bernadette McBride
- Corie Feiner
- Marilee Morris
- Elvis Alves
- Tyler Kline
- Lynn Levin
- Alison Hicks
- Wendy Fulton Steginsky
- Elizabeth Austin
- Bill Wunder
- Patricia Goodrich
- Marie Kane
- Ethel Rackin
- Mohsen Harandi
- Connie Wrzesniewski
- Carly Volpe
- Luray Gross
- Diana Loercher Pazicky
- Cheryl Baldi
- Interviews
- Sherrill S. Cannon
- Jo Freehand
- Cleveland Wall
- Mary Jo Lo Bello Jerome
- Camille Norvaisas
- Arlene Geller
- About
- Bread & Fumes
- Reading Schedule
- Publications
This month's featured poet is Marcia LeBeau. Read about her poetic influences and what poetry means to her. Enjoy!
LF: Do you remember writing your first poem?
ML: I do. Unfortunately, it’s not the most uplifting story. In 2nd grade, I wrote a rhyming poem about colors that was submitted to the elementary school’s literary journal. Soon after, the president of the PTA called my father concerned that I had plagiarized the poem. When he told me this, I was dumbstruck. The thought of copying someone else’s poem and calling it my own had never occurred to me. I was so upset. Through tears I told him that I had written it myself. He must have convinced the PTA of this, because my poem did end up in “Reflections” (I still remember the name of the journal!), but I didn’t write a poem again until I was in my twenties.
LF: Who are some of your favorite poetic influences?
ML: When I began writing poetry as a young adult, I was drawn to ultra-talk poets like Tony Hoagland and Thomas Lux. And I loved the wildness of James Tate, Russell Edson, and Dean Young. But soon I got drawn to women poets like Sharon Olds, Dorianne Laux, and Jane Hirschfield. Now, poets of my generation fascinate me with their subjects, playfulness, and depth: Aimee Nezhukumatathil, Ada Limon, Jennifer Sweeney, to name a few. I also am blown away with the bravery of queer poets such as Gabrielle Calvocoressi, Sam Sax, Natalie Diaz to name a few. I don’t identify as queer, but those poets give me permission reveal so much more of myself than I otherwise would have. I’m also very influenced by my peers who I workshop with locally. Bi-weekly they bring poems that show their evolution as poets and inspire me to keep going.
LF: Could you describe your creative process for writing poetry?
ML: It has changed over time. I used to be more disciplined. I would sit down every morning and write for at least an hour. I’d work on a prompt or a revision. Since I’ve had kids, though, it’s more like when inspiration strikes. I’ll write scraps of lines in my notebook or on my phone and then later try to form them into the poem. I tend to generate a lot when I take a workshop. Once or twice a year I go away for a weekend or week retreat and get more done in those days than I do the whole rest of the year, because being away from my family enables me to be laser focused, yet completely free and creative. I run a co-working space for creative writers called The Write Space, and even though people told me I myself wouldn’t be able to focus on my own writing there, I didn’t believe them. But they were right: the business of actually running the space consumes my time there, though I’ll occasionally be able to squeeze in some writing time. Deadlines are very helpful, as are accountability groups like the one I run for parent writers through Pen Parentis or The GRIND, where you have to email a poem to your assigned group of poets each day before midnight for a month. That has been particularly helpful when I need to generate a lot of material.
LF: At what point do you decide to stop revising your work?
ML: You’re asking someone who spent 20 years on their first book! No seriously, once it’s published in a book. Even after it’s published in a journal, I still make changes sometimes. When a poem is fully done, it’s instinctual to me. It feels good to read it out loud. I think many “finished” poems could always be better, but at some point, it’s beyond my capabilities as a poet (or I’m too close to it) to do it.
LF: What are you working on now?
ML: I just finished my second poetry collection. Of course, I’m still tinkering with it. It’s very new. Recently, I’ve started working on new poems about my father’s dementia and an essay about starting The Write Space.
LF: Why is poetry important in the world?
ML: Poetry can save us from loneliness and isolation—which is our biggest epidemic and the cause of so much strife in the world.
LF: What do you hope readers take away from your poems?
ML: In accordance with the last question, I hope that my readers come away feeling less alone. That they find comfort in knowing that others have had the same complicated thoughts and feelings they have. There is so much we don’t talk about. I hope they feel like I’m a good friend whispering in their ear.
LF: Do you remember writing your first poem?
ML: I do. Unfortunately, it’s not the most uplifting story. In 2nd grade, I wrote a rhyming poem about colors that was submitted to the elementary school’s literary journal. Soon after, the president of the PTA called my father concerned that I had plagiarized the poem. When he told me this, I was dumbstruck. The thought of copying someone else’s poem and calling it my own had never occurred to me. I was so upset. Through tears I told him that I had written it myself. He must have convinced the PTA of this, because my poem did end up in “Reflections” (I still remember the name of the journal!), but I didn’t write a poem again until I was in my twenties.
LF: Who are some of your favorite poetic influences?
ML: When I began writing poetry as a young adult, I was drawn to ultra-talk poets like Tony Hoagland and Thomas Lux. And I loved the wildness of James Tate, Russell Edson, and Dean Young. But soon I got drawn to women poets like Sharon Olds, Dorianne Laux, and Jane Hirschfield. Now, poets of my generation fascinate me with their subjects, playfulness, and depth: Aimee Nezhukumatathil, Ada Limon, Jennifer Sweeney, to name a few. I also am blown away with the bravery of queer poets such as Gabrielle Calvocoressi, Sam Sax, Natalie Diaz to name a few. I don’t identify as queer, but those poets give me permission reveal so much more of myself than I otherwise would have. I’m also very influenced by my peers who I workshop with locally. Bi-weekly they bring poems that show their evolution as poets and inspire me to keep going.
LF: Could you describe your creative process for writing poetry?
ML: It has changed over time. I used to be more disciplined. I would sit down every morning and write for at least an hour. I’d work on a prompt or a revision. Since I’ve had kids, though, it’s more like when inspiration strikes. I’ll write scraps of lines in my notebook or on my phone and then later try to form them into the poem. I tend to generate a lot when I take a workshop. Once or twice a year I go away for a weekend or week retreat and get more done in those days than I do the whole rest of the year, because being away from my family enables me to be laser focused, yet completely free and creative. I run a co-working space for creative writers called The Write Space, and even though people told me I myself wouldn’t be able to focus on my own writing there, I didn’t believe them. But they were right: the business of actually running the space consumes my time there, though I’ll occasionally be able to squeeze in some writing time. Deadlines are very helpful, as are accountability groups like the one I run for parent writers through Pen Parentis or The GRIND, where you have to email a poem to your assigned group of poets each day before midnight for a month. That has been particularly helpful when I need to generate a lot of material.
LF: At what point do you decide to stop revising your work?
ML: You’re asking someone who spent 20 years on their first book! No seriously, once it’s published in a book. Even after it’s published in a journal, I still make changes sometimes. When a poem is fully done, it’s instinctual to me. It feels good to read it out loud. I think many “finished” poems could always be better, but at some point, it’s beyond my capabilities as a poet (or I’m too close to it) to do it.
LF: What are you working on now?
ML: I just finished my second poetry collection. Of course, I’m still tinkering with it. It’s very new. Recently, I’ve started working on new poems about my father’s dementia and an essay about starting The Write Space.
LF: Why is poetry important in the world?
ML: Poetry can save us from loneliness and isolation—which is our biggest epidemic and the cause of so much strife in the world.
LF: What do you hope readers take away from your poems?
ML: In accordance with the last question, I hope that my readers come away feeling less alone. That they find comfort in knowing that others have had the same complicated thoughts and feelings they have. There is so much we don’t talk about. I hope they feel like I’m a good friend whispering in their ear.
