12 or 20 questions: with Lina ramona Vitkauskas

Lina ramona Vitkauskas is the recent winner of The Poetry Center of Chicago’s 15^th Annual Juried Reading, judged by poet Brenda Hillman. She was also recently nominated by Another Chicago Magazine for an Illinois Arts Council Award (in the poetry and fiction categories). She has won an honorable mention in STORYmagazine’s Carson McCullers Award contest (1999) and placed as a semi-finalist for the Cleveland State University Open Poetry Series (2002). After obtaining an MA in Creative Writing from Wright State University, she authored three poetry books and chapbooks including: THE RANGE OF YOUR AMAZING NOTHING(Ravenna Press, 2010), Failed Star Spawns Planet/Star (dancing girl press, 2006), and Shooting Dead Films with Poets (Fractal Edge Press, 2004).

Her work has appeared in many literary magazines and anthologies including: The City Visible: Chicago Poetry for the New Century (Cracked Slab Books, 2007), The Prague Literary Review, Van Gogh's Ear (Paris),The Chicago Review, Another Chicago Magazine, Aufgabe; Drunken Boat, White Fungus (New Zealand),MiPoesias, Paper Tiger (Australia), and the In Posse Review Multi-Ethnic Anthology edited by Ilya Kaminsky. Poet Denise Duhamel has noted that her poetry “employs humor and kitsch…the dazzling underside confronts intolerance and terrorism with a wise brilliance.” Her web site is www.linaramona.com.

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

My first chapbook was published in 2004 by Fractal Edge Press (Chicago) and is titled Shooting Dead Films with Poets. The next one was published by dancing girl press (Chicago) and was titled Failed Star Spawns Planet/Star. My first full-length book of poetry is coming out in 2010 on Ravenna Press (Spokane,WA) and it's called THE RANGE OF YOUR AMAZING NOTHING. The publication of all of these works came at critical times in my life. The first came soon after I'd moved back to Chicago from Ohio, where I completed my MA in Creative Writing (in 2002).

I'd jumped into the blossoming poetry scene by making contacts in the community and doing a lot of readings. Wayne Allen Jones, a fellow poet, was starting a press and wanted my book to be one the first that he did. I was very happy, of course, and was able to say I'd published. In 2005, Kristy Bowen, publisher of dancing girl press in Chicago, approached me to publish another collection of astronomy-related poems; I was thrilled to be a part of her catalogue of all-female poets--all very talented...to be among the likes of Brandi Homan, Simone Muench, Daniela Olszewska, and Kristy Odelius was a great experience for me. The book coming out in 2010 is a great accomplishment of mine. I am extremely honored that Kathryn Rantala (of Ravenna) is publishing it. It is about 108 poems written between 2005 to 2008. The book feels different because it is lengthy and feels like a comprehensive representation of my work.

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

I began as a fiction writer, but I had always written poetry. I returned to poetry because I seemed to be able to feel more comfortable with it. It seemed more my niche.

3 - How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your writing intitially 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?

My writing style begins when the muse visits. Months may pass and she doesn't stop by, then she comes and stays for months (always a wanted guest). I write in spurts and in a flash of inspiration try to capture it all before it slips away. I don't revise until much later, and even then, I am afraid to tamper too much with the initial products I produce. Nothing is ever truly finished, and poems become reincarnated as others at times.

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?

Sounds, words, language. I begin with juxtaposing words that sound as if they belong together. I let the poem take shape as I write. I never know what I am writing about until it is finished, though there are distinct themes of politics, gender roles, shades of humanity, magical realism, surreal terrains, conversations I hear, botany, astronomy, and Lithuanian and Spanish vocabulary and nuances.

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

I do readings and I do enjoy them. I like hearing audience response to my work. What other poets find in my work means a great deal to me. Often times, there are beautiful surprises in their responses.

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?

Russian sociolinguist Bakhtin wrote of heteroglossia, the idea of language hierarchy or conflict within the mind and how it influences language decisions. This meant quite a large deal to me having spoken Lithuanian primarily as a child, and then English, and then studying Spanish. Soon, there was a distinct "language straddling" going on within me and I became rather entertained by the notion of being able to switch between and/or amalgamate words, if necessary. I believe this theory plays a large role in my loose method of writing. It at least fuels the playfulness in my work. Montaigne wrote of the meaning of "to essay" and referred to the Latin translation "to test" or "to try". Early in my master's study, I was quite drawn to this notion and still view the process through this lens.

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?

The role of the poet in society is changing. I ask, have we arrived as authoritative voices on culture yet? It's becoming apparent with the explosion of citizen journalism and the immediacy of Twitter, etc. that writers have a challenge of maintaining credibility in the creative and non-fiction realms.

In Europe, poets are lauded, respected, and looked upon as great commentators of generations and time. The US has a great tradition, as of late, celebrating genre writers within the fiction realm and using commercial success and film adaptation as the benchmark. There is a distinct misconception among mainstream society about poets and poetry--often times people think of the Shakespeare they learned in high school or think of Robert Frost, Maya Angelou, Sylvia Plath. There is such a rich world of contemporary poets, talented documenters of our time, that has yet to be discovered. I believe poets deserve more recognition, though I think within the world of poetry itself, there is much mutual recognition and respect.

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

It is essential to the process to shape a published work to fit its medium, but should not alter the intent.

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

Pound's "show don't tell". Robert Creeley said (I'm paraphrasing) "If you don't know what you're doing--trust it." Jodorowsky said, "You cease to exist when you say 'That's what I am.' "

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to critical prose)? What do you see as the appeal?

I have only been able to slightly traverse between experimental short fiction and poetry. I prefer poetry.

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

No routine for writing. For me, personally, routine it is detrimental and counterproductive.

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

I look to scientific texts, Wikipedia's random article, and foreign films.

13 - What did your favourite teacher teach you?

My drama director once told me that I am not as funny as I think I am.

14 - 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?

Definitely science (astronomy and botany) and film.

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

Wallace Stevens, John Ashbery, Lorca, Mina Loy, Breton, Maykovsky, Akhmatova, many others, especially contemporary poets Heidi Lynn Staples, Catherine Wagner, Caroline Whitbeck, Simone Muench, Donna Stonecipher, Jen Karmin, Philip Jenks...so many to name and mention!

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

Film screenwriter, comedy writer, travel more.

17 - 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?

Screenwriter, comedian.

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

It was something that approached me.

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

I'm reading Thomas Friedman's Hot, Flat, and Crowded currently. Synechdoche, NY was highly underrated and a great film.

20 - What are you currently working on?

A poetic series of ekphrastic books in response to select foreign films, a spoken word CD with a koto player.

12 or 20 questions (second series);

The City Visible: Chicago Poetry for the New Century

Hotel

We know. The rooms seem empty.
Our names are in the most lost registers.
We were given a system to cut the life from our mouth.
Or no system. Either way a scream.

All the sheets here are white,
with behind-the-back faces.
You can do a thing with a faucet,
a concussion. This nation knows to bruise.

Death is a very close door in the hall—
see how our foot slips in?
(The sweet taste of shit.)
See how everything, history, is a chute?
See how our tongue, this close door,
is also that black, that sweet?

Fuck us in springtime.
Let the air roll over the mass grave like petals.
It also smells sweet. It is our hair.
It is chalk, bags of rice, nails.

There is a star here called America.
We follow her everywhere.
She is a ball of gas,
a fired-off round, a stove, a blackout.
She keeps us in her kitchen.

We could be anyone.
Under the bed, we are anyone.
Any genocide we've mentioned. (Arielle Greenberg)

If anybody has been wondering why there hasn’t been any updating of Chicago Postmodern Poetry lately (an interview with me has apparently been forthcoming for some time, for example), wonder no more, with the appearance of The City Visible: Chicago Poetry for the New Century (Chicago IL: Cracked Slab Books, 2007), edited by William Allegrezza and Raymond Bianchi, two very active editor/publisher/poets in the Chicago area. I've always been a fan of geographic anthologies of writing, to get a sense of what (according to the particular biases of the editor/s, of course) is happening within the particular area (see even a Chicago blog here). Working to produce a Chicago anthology of postmodern poetry "for the new century," the book includes a cross-section of works by Srikanth Reddy, Jennifer Scappettone, Suzanne Buffam [see my recent note on her here], John Tipton, Eric Elshtain, David Pavelich, Peter O'Leary, William Fuller, Michael O'Leary, Mark Tardi, Erica Bernheim, Michael Antonucci, Chris Glomski, Garin Cycholl, Luis Urrea, Kristy Odelius, Simone Muench, Lea Graham (see her here with Parliament Hill in the background), Ed Robertson, Arielle Greenberg, Robyn Schiff, Nick Twemlow, Tony Trigilio, Shin Yu Pai, Dan Beachy-Quick, Maxine Chernoff, Kerri Sonnenberg, Jesse Seldess, Paul Hoover, Michelle Taransky, Robert Archambeau, Bill Marsh, Larry Sawyer, Lina ramona Vitkauskas, Cecilia Pinto, Johanny Paz, Ela Kotkowska, Jorge Sanchez, Joel Craig, Daniel Borzutsky, Joel Felix, Raymond Bianchi, Cynthia Bond, William Allegrezza, Jennifer Karmin, Tim Yu, Laura Sims, Roberto Harrison, Brenda Cárdenas, Stacy Szymaszek, Chuck Stebelton and Jordan Stempleman. As Bianchi writes in his "Introduction,"

The dialogue is between these poets who more or less care about the same things and whose work has influenced each others' like a series of Venn diagrams touching all and influencing some. There are many more poets and movements in Chicago which did not make this volume. There is a complete lack of Slam Poets and regional writers; these groups are strong in Chicago, and they have a press infrastructure that supports their work. In this volume you have a variety of poets writing on the edge—experimental, multi-lingual, internationally infused writing at the heart of the United States.

When I first heard of this anthology, I wondered if they might even have included work by Canadian expat (they already have at least one other Canadian in there, with expat Buffam) Nathalie Stephens, living and teaching in Chicago these past couple of years (with a book out with Nightboat this fall), but for whatever reason she's not included.

Part of what adds to the collection is that, even though some sections might be smaller than others, each poet works to provide a small "poetic statement" of some sort (although two of the contributors have statements only a short line long, but for Mark Tardi, certainly say enough) to go along with their writing. Poet Maxine Chernoff's "Poetic Statement: Form and Function" reads like a small essay, much longer than the rest. Arielle Greenberg (a poet I've heard about for some time, but not yet read until this collection) writes this as hers:

In my first book, I was seeking to allow myself permission to be playful, messy, funny—to risk failure, as a true experiment should. My second book was an attempt to address issues I felt I'd been avoiding and needed to face—issues of selfhood, of anger, of cultural and historical legacy—without making poems that were didactic, overtly representational, or humorless.

After the birth of my daughter, my poems became more direct and urgent, I think: I had less time and energy for games in my work than I once did. Now this, too, is slowly starting to change. My poetic project is the project of the life I'm living, which is to say I have little control over where it might need to go next.

I might not be into what everyone here is doing, but I very much like the range, moving from more formal applications to the easily more informal; but if Nathalie Stephens isn’t here, I'm intrigued to know just how many other poets there are in Chicago that I might not be yet aware of?

The Rushing

Forsythia at roadside
arcing up,

a reach for
what? Passing on foot or in

reluscent car—past already—
so brilliant

a wanting
and yet. Yearning already

for the next before bloom: Love,
perhaps, or

not love—but
its desire, things as Michael

might say, Turning…on and off
and on stems'

phloem, lenticels, xylem,
this old wood

flowering (Lea Graham)