12 or 20 (second series) questions with Melissa Eleftherion

Melissa Eleftherion is a writer, librarian, and a visual artist. She grew up in Brooklyn, dropped out of high school, and went on to earn an MFA in Poetry from Mills College and an MLIS from San Jose State University. She is the author of field guide to autobiography (The Operating System, 2018), & six chapbooks: huminsect (dancing girl press, 2013), prism maps (Dusie, 2014), Pigtail Duty (dancing girl press, 2015), the leaves the leaves (poems-for-all, 2017), green glass asterisms (poems-for-all, 2017) & little ditch (above/ground press, 2018). Founder of the Poetry Center Chapbook Exchange for San Francisco State University, Melissa now lives in Mendocino County where she manages the Ukiah Library, teaches creative writing, & curates the LOBA Reading Series. Recent work is available at www.apoetlibrarian.wordpress.com.

1 - How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?

Having field guide to autobiography accepted for publication was very rewarding & a huge relief. I had been working on it for seven years - through two Master’s degrees, a baby, postpartum depression, a near-divorce, a big move & a career change, etc. When I awoke to the email from the first publisher, I was ecstatic. Then, it changed my life again when the first publisher was outed as a sexual abuser, and the press folded. As a woman & sexual trauma survivor, there was a lot of emotional labor & I was angry for a time. Ultimately, it changed my life a third time when it was picked up by Lynne from the Operating System & found its rightful home.

My recent work is more direct & uses fewer filters than I did with field guide, for example. In chapbooks like little ditch, I’m mustering courage to confront traumas I’ve experienced instead of using lenses to tell the story.

2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?

I’ve tried to write fiction in various forms for years but it always comes out poetry. I suck at devising plots and creating narrative structure. Every November, I try to write a novel during NaNoWriMo and fail miserably. It works out, though because I usually get a few poems out of it. Essays are another form I can get into, but they require a lot more time. Right now in my harried librarian/mom life, it’s the marginalized world of poems for me.  

3 - How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your writing initially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear looking close to their final shape, or does your work come out of copious notes?

It depends on the poem. Some emerge over time from copious notes, and others spring forth, almost parthenogenetically, where it feels like the poems are writing me. As I know is true of many poets, sometimes the poem comes, takes over, and is balls-out take-no-prisoners - you must write the thing. Spicer’s radio. Other times, I’m a procrastinating jerk who reads too much instead of writing. 

4 - Where does a poem usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a "book" from the very beginning?

A poem usually begins for me with a line or fragment. Depending on timing, I’ll try to jot down the line and see if it leads anywhere. Most often, I’m trying to make poems in the spare moments between running to work or picking up my son from school. Sometimes, I’ll actually leave the library during my break & try to go write. I tend to compose larger works by accreting these fragments until they become something else.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?

Public readings have their place in my creative process. They sometimes help me test out newer work. Though, I’m an ambivert so they often require energy I have to cajole from the depths, and time away from my family which can be challenging. As the branch librarian & manager of a small-town public library, I spend my days interacting with lots of people in & around my community so it can be challenging to summon more energy for social stuff. Once I get over my anxiety, I usually enjoy them, though. 

6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you even think the current questions are?

I’ve had this intuition that we’re all fragments of one magnificent, multi-cellular organism and that was the impetus for field guide to autobiography, which I started writing back in 2007 when I was pregnant with my son. So - with field guide, I wanted to explore the connections and relationships between and among various organisms.  

Also - what are the stories of the apple tree, of the echinoderm? They’re not for humans to make up, of course, but to imagine a glimpse into their world for a moment using scientific language from field guides about their habitats, their small parts, and ecosystems was exciting.  And - what can humans learn from trees, sea stars, ammonite, and wrens to live more harmoniously, & fight the capitalist push to assimilate and be a body of war?

The question that comes up for me most often is “am I doing enough as a white ally to combat the rampant racism & white supremacy that pervades American culture & what else can I do?”

The current questions (in the U.S. at least) seem to revolve around how to prevent more damage from being incurred - to our people, our water, our air, our food, our human rights, our educational system, our healthcare - they’re being callously & heinously mistreated or polluted by pathetic, greedy, bloated, racist white men in suits.    

7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Does s/he even have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?

I’ve said this before but it bears repeating - This is a critical time for poetics and creative communities to share resources and support one another against these myriad, heinous assaults on our human rights. There is such strength and resilience and courage in using art to overcome adversity, to educate, to connect, to galvanize, to transform, to activate people to see beyond & keep fighting & caring for themselves and one another. As poets, we have the capacity for shaping language to create new paradigms where racial & cultural differences are celebrated, consent is actively taught to all genders, privilege is acknowledged, and intergenerational communities live among one another symbiotically. Art & language can mobilize people to reshape not only our understanding of ourselves, but also transform our impact as a species.

8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?

I’ve only worked with a few outside editors on anthologies & found the input to be helpful, but neither difficult nor essential.

9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?

Nolite te bastardes carborundorum

10 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?

I don’t have a typical writing routine right now because I’ve been working 60 hours a week & have a kid, but in all honesty - I haven’t ever done the thing consistently where I wake up at 5 am to write. Lately, I write whenever I’m not too exhausted, sometimes on lunch breaks, sometimes late at night. My most consistent writing “routine” has been to stay engaged with various poetry projects so I continue to produce poems, even if I’m in a fallow period. 

11 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?

Most often, I turn to other books. I read omnivorously. I also try to re-engage my work playfully by working with found poems. Creative play helps me loosen & dislodge stuck ideas & helps me puzzle out problems. I work a lot with source texts for found poetry projects - my two consistent texts are my “autobiographical dictionary” & field guides.  I also try to collaborate with other poets in various 30/30s. Last year I wrote 31 erasures using Anne Rice’s Ramses the Damned: The Passion of Cleopatra. Another favorite project is the poetry postcard project. For about 10 years, I have organized & participated in ongoing exchanges where poets & artists send handwritten poems on postcards back & forth for a period of several months. Writing pithy postcard poems has been very generative.

12 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

C. Howard’s violet chewing gum.

13 - David W. McFadden once said that books come from books, but are there any other forms that influence your work, whether nature, music, science or visual art?

Yes, all of the above. I’m in perpetual fascination with science & nature, and am a big curious nerd (even though I had to take summer school Physics 2x in undergrad). I also love working with ekphrasis, and being in conversation with visual art & various kinds of music.

14 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?

Leonora Carrington. Will Alexander. Juliana Spahr. Diane di Prima. Bhanu Kapil.

15 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?

For starters, I’d like to gain confidence with driving on the highway. I didn’t start driving until after we moved to a small town at age 40, and only recently bought my first car. I’d also like to visit Southern Italy & Greece, and hike Mount Olympus with my son. 

16 - If you could pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, what do you think you would have ended up doing had you not been a writer?

I’ve wanted to be a BMX racer since I was 12, but I’ve finally surrendered the fantasy. I guess I’m doing the only other job I’m capable of doing - librarian.

17 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?

Somewhere during a regressive period in my late 20s, I realized I had to choose either photography or poetry to commit myself to, & stop being such a dilettante. As a first generation college student who dropped out of high school & put herself through college while working full-time, I had spent my late teens & most of my 20s focused on making rent. Going back to school for my MFA allowed me a sense of permission to spend time working on poems, and a sense of direction in helping me to learn craft & shape my work.

18 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?

Kindred - Octavia Butler

I can’t remember the last great film I’ve seen. Possibly The Last Jedi.

19 - What are you currently working on?

I’m currently working on a few projects - right now what stands out is this series of poems I’ve been writing about various minerals. It’s been both generative and satisfying to learn about minerals and write about them. I also found this cool online mineralogy database. Some of the language used is oddly foreboding of the ways our land & its people have been ravaged by capitalist greed (and grief). There’s a strange, rich understanding - right there in the Earth’s crust.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;

scotland the brave (or: when we were high(land,

Did I mention we were away for nine days? No? Only our second child-free travel together since Rose was born [see our prior trip here], organized in part because Christine received a writing grant earlier this year, and part of her pitch included some research at the British Library (we’ll be getting to that soon; we’re not there yet). Our wedding anniversary occurs here as well, which is pretty exciting. What might we get up to? So, here we begin:

Tuesday, Sept 25th

We left the wee girls with mother in law for the sake of a later afternoon flight for Halifax. A flurry of motion, moving, activity, and even saw a friend of mine at the Ottawa Airport, heading his own way back west. How random! After our first flight, we spent some three hours in the Halifax airport, where Christine wrestled a dinner-lobster larger than our smallest child (or so it seemed). We traded toddler stories with our waitress, who spends a couple of days a week with her granddaughter.

I learned: I do not like lobster poutine. Very bleh. One bite was enough.

Mother in law emailed, asking: what time does Aoife usually go to sleep? Out cold by 6pm (an hour earlier than we usually attempt her down).

I’m reading Stephen Collis’ Almost Islands: Phyllis Webb and the Pursuit of the Unwritten (Talonbooks, 2018), a title that landed on my doorstep some two hours before we left for our flight. It seemed to make sense to bring it along.

I read, worked a bit. Took many notes. Slept.

What time is it now? I have no idea. An overnight flight to London.

Wednesday, Sept 26

On the airplane to London, I took notes, I read Collis’ new memoir. Wow. I scribbled and slept and we both slept, landing in London at 8am local time (five hours ahead, don’t you know).

Which means: 8am local time means our bodies recognized 3am.

Three hours in London, where we breakfasted or lunched or something I’m not even sure before flying the ninety minutes north to Inverness. What might we see at Loch Ness? I slept the entire flight up to Inverness, preferring to sleep there than, say, once we landed.

We landed, dropped off our bags. Air B+B, up three flights of stairs with our bags. 

Heading out again. Stamps. Postcards. Cobblestone, catching the toes of our shoes. The most beautiful antiquarian bookstore space, held in a building attached to a church (with a circular staircase, wood fireplace and stained glass windows). The most beautiful store, but nothing I could find for the sake of purchase. Christine bought a memoir by a former editor, Diana Athill, that intrigued. Apparently she was editor for V.S. Naipaul, and wrote something interesting on him after he died.

The only Canadian-esque poetry titles we could find: Robert Service.

And then, exploring a churchyard, at the Old High Church. The many names of the dead, less old than I might have thought.

We found a decent enough pub-chain for the sake of dinner, and managed to also enjoy my very first deep fried Mars bar. Apparently they were invented nearby in 1992 (and are neither endorsed or even recommended by Mars Inc.). It was strange but I liked it. Better than the Philly Cheesesteak, better than the Lobster Poutine (bleh). Even better than the crawdads in New Orleans (which I liked). Christine presented paragraphs of Diana Athill’s memoir; okay, this was worth it.

And then we crashed at our Air B+B. A shower, to remove three different flights, involving three different countries. God sakes.

And, being in the Highlands, I put in my tartan underwear.

British television, as Christine says: you need to watch. Every channel, everywhere: four hours-plus worth of nothing but repeats of Top Gear. Is this normal?

Thursday, Sept 27

Waking up at eight a.m. local time was rather exciting (we are still pretty jet-lagged), especially given we were taking a twelve-hour Highlands/Isle of Skye tour, scheduled to leave the station at 8:30am. At least the station was only two doors away (thanks to a very clever Christine).

We had a TWELVE HOUR TOUR ON A BUS (apparently this was my anniversary present from dear wife). It was unexpectedly: highly entertaining, highly educational and interesting, and the lunch and food dinners we ordered off the menu were quite worth it. I took notes, and sat beside an American woman, Lisa, who was pretty lively. Originally from Los Angeles, living currently in Utah, and only days off a trip to Hawaii, before her five weeks in Scotland (meaning she was seven hours off the time zone of home, but twelve hours off her trip from Hawaii).

Urquart Castle, Loch Ness/Inverness

We went to Loch Ness,where we learned entertaining facts about the incredible depth of the infamous Loch. We went by the ruins of Urquart Castle, Grant Tower, St. Columba and the Hill of the Fairies. We heard about the Caledonia Pine Forest, Rowan berries and saw Highland cattle. We heard of goats who had been living in Scotland for 4,000 years, but not yet considered a local species (how much longer do they require?). Jacobites. Silver birch wine, once made by monks, who have long disappeared, along with the recipe.

Eilean Donan Castle

Glen Cluny, Loch Cluny. The Cluny Inn, from the 1950s. The five sisters of Kintail, whereabouts our McLennans originated, back in the 1840s. Dragon’s breath, covering the hills. Eilean Donan Castle. We later learned, a Mackenzie castle, said to be looked after by the Macrae and Maclennans at various points. The ugly mermaids of Raasay. Lusty Malcolm. What exactly was peat, and how and why to gather to burn. Christine looking particularly Gael (channeling The Outlander's Claire).

rob and Christine promoting their new BBC adventure series

We saw an awful lot of rainbows. I mean, a LOT. At least three double rainbows. Perhaps it was all the rain. Torrents of rain rushed and ran dozen of silver threads down the endless hills. With the hills angled straight down, such a volume of water has no choice but to tumble. Oh my.

We went over to the Isle of Skye. The hill of the Old Women. King Haakon. The ruins of the McKinnon stronghold. Saucy Mary. We climbed a damned hill. Some seven minutes of climbing, our tour guide claimed; we could see an alternate tour higher up, part of a four-hour excursion atop the hill, akin to goats, perhaps. We were pleased to not be part of that, set in the wind across the moors and the heather and the thistle and bristle and rain, attempting as best we could to avoid the multiple small piles of sheep dip.

A piper came to play at Kilt Rock, Isle of Skye. The way the Tour Guide was speaking, I had to explain to him that I'd heard pipers before, and heard the Scots Gaelic, and that I grew in a place that has language classes for such (he had no idea; it had never occurred to him).

More information than I could ever recall, record or retain. I have much to look up.

What I enjoyed was the plethora of place-name I knew as familiar, from my corner of Ontario: Glenelg, Perth, Avonmore. Glengarry.

Isle of Skye: why yes, I did have a whisky. When in Rome, etcetera. 

So, do I drink whisky now? Perhaps.

Beaulie, a town name from the French – beau lieu – meaning “beautiful place” (what say you, derek?).

The tour was impressive, and I would highly recommend (WOW Scotland). When Sandy (we loved his knowledge and his enthusiasm), our tour guide, wasn’t talking to us, he was talking to the driver, who seemed both amused and slightly irritated by Sandy’s constant suggestion (again, the enthusiasm) to stop, mainly for photos of further rainbows, “oh, here’s a spot…”).

We found a post-tour pub for a pint and a bit of food, but the piano man was too loud, loud, loud. Retired instead, pick up some bits at the corner store, return to Air B+B, up those three flights of stairs. Top Gear. Red Dwarf XII. Mock the Week. Star Trek: Into Darkness.

Friday, Sept 28

A quieter day, including leaving our Air B+B, wandering out for breakfast and figuring out our day, before an 8pm train overnight into London. We gathered ourselves to a dip into the mall to see what options we might have (where I finally picked up a copy of Hera Lindsay Bird’s Hera Lindsay Bird, as well as Luke Kennard’s CAIN) (Rose also informed us that we are to collect them both books and chocolate, which we are keeping our eyes out for).

Figuring out the local transit, post-mall, we made our way to the Culloden battlesite, where I clearly didn’t know nearly enough of what it was all about. Jarring, the whole thing, seeing the battlesite, and multiple stone markers set in the 1880s for mass graves. Gordons, Campbells (the closest my family might have come), Fraser, McIntosh, McGillivray, etcetera. 

We learned the term “Johnny Lobster,” a term for the Government soldier, and were given a rather lively ten minute demonstration of gear and fighting, as well as the tricky ways in which the Government filled their soldier-ranks.

I was part of the demonstration, with my faux-musket, holding my own as firing-line two (my compatriots, line one and three, were far less enthusiastic about participating).

The four-minute immersive room/film was quite frightening, not only for the brutality, but the speed at which such historic battles began and were simply over. Less than an hour, and history irrevocably turned. I clearly have to read more up on this, especially how it basically provoked a decimation of the highlands, etcetera. Christine found some information on the internet (somewhere) that spoke of eleven McLennans/Maclennans being captured after the battle, but the fact that we weren't there due to our being nearly decimated at some early pre-Jacobite battle. Ah well.

Although the immersive film was quiet the first couple of minutes, showing and feeling the empty Culloden Moor. I actually turned to Christine at one point and asked: maybe this is the immersive film for the day prior to the battle?

Post-battlefield, we visited the gift shop, where I picked up a mangonel (I had really been hoping for a trebuchet, but there you go; Christine won’t let me have either one properly, so I finally have something, if only in pencil sharpener form), and had a meat pie, soup and a pint (Wooha). Back to the bus, we figured out that we were seven minute past the time when the hourly bus returns (our driver there lied, saying it was every thirty minutes) to take folk back to Inverness, so we went back for a (well, ahem, another) pint. Christine visited the shops. I worked to complete and post this very entry (how meta!).

And then the overnight sleeper train, heading overnight into London.