Poet Danielle Sellers; Copyright Chris Hayes
On Feb. 3 at the Poetry Blog of 32 Poems Magazine my interview with poet Danielle Sellers was posted. She’s a contributor to the magazine and was a delight to interview, especially since we share a similar obsession with the soap opera, The Young and the Restless!
First, let me tantalize you with a bit from the interview, and then you can go on over and check the rest out for yourself.
Without further ado, here’s the interview.
How would you introduce yourself to a crowded room eager to hang on your every word? Are you just a poet, what else should people know about you?
My mother loves to tell the story of me, age 4 or 5, called up with the other children by the preacher at Old Stone Methodist church in Key West. When I arrived at the front of the church, all the other children were already seated, the preacher had begun his sermon, and I interrupted with a big wave and an overly-enthusiastic, “Hi, Kids!” So once that would happen, what people would most likely find out about me is that I’m a single mom to a very silly girl, much like the one about whom I just told you. I’m a foodie, and a lover of animals. I do rescue work when I can. I am spiritual, but not religious.
Most writers will read inspirational/how-to manuals, take workshops, or belong to writing groups. Did you subscribe to any of these aids and if so which did you find most helpful? Please feel free to name any “writing” books you enjoyed most (i.e. Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott).
I have been faithful to the workshop scene since college, but I find the readership of one or two close friends to be the best kind of intimate discussion. But it’s hard to find friends whose work you admire who aren’t insanely busy. I do have several good readers I’d like to keep in a brass bottle, to call on them whenever I wished. But then they’d be servants, not friends, and that would defeat the purpose.
In terms of friendships, have your friendships changed since you began focusing on writing? Are there more writers among your friends or have your relationships remained the same?
I’m sad to say my friendships have changed. I still keep in touch with pals from high school and college, but my fellowship with other writers is more immediate. It’s important to feel as though someone “gets” you. When I was a graduate student at Johns Hopkins, we had a very small, intimate class, and most of us were about the same age. We are still very close. I also made good friends with my classmates in the MFA program at Ole Miss, and count them as some of the most important friendships of my life. Friendships have also been made at the Sewanee Writers’ Conference, which I’ve attended twice, once as a participant, and once as a scholar. Even for those who choose not to attend MFA programs, conferences like these are key to a writer’s development and socialization.
She also included a poem for readers to check out:
STRANGE-COUNTRIED MEN
My daughter, alive only twenty months,
climbs up to the World Market
polished oak table, to rearrange
my fall tribute of gourds and maize.
She takes a withered husk
in her mouth, new teeth gnaw
the dry texture. Her fingers
grip the technicolor kernels.
I think of our Cherokee ancestors,
Georgia and Mexico, who married
young and hungry, forced
from the lush Smokies to the bluffs
of Cooter, MO. On the other side,
Stonewall Jackson’s a distant cousin.
She has his blue eyes, stubborn
streak, and the aptitude to shoot.
Senator-talk moves through the house:
immigration cases on the rise, the need
for an electrified perimeter, protection
from the outside. Now, my daughter
flaps her arms like a turkey, feathered
boa slung across her human neck.
Her father volunteered to kill
Sunni and Shiite men in war.
I married him for his blue-collar
arms, nimble hands
and thick cock. He liked me tan,
soft-bellied, full with child.
In the desert, he wrote letters
home, the squat script promising
me daughters. He delivered one,
but does not love her well.
–previously published by Old Red Kimono
