Q&A with Yvonne Stephens, author of The Salt Before It Shakes

This winter, I will haul out summer / from the chest freezer / tart cherries to suck on, to make pie. // You and I are omnivorous– / even bitter fruit, somehow, / sustains us.”
~ from “Give Me a Bushel of Tomatoes” in The Salt Before It Shakes


I fell in love with the poetry of Yvonne Stephens at first glance. I was skimming through submissions for Family Stories from the Attic, and her piece, “Syl,” stopped me short. A found poem, she turned lines in a letter from a Grandfather she did not know into a piece that stays with you. Her writing is intimate, it’s pure and sweet, heartbreaking and hopeful, all at once.

Her new chapbook, The Salt Before It Shakes, offers the same level of intimacy and strength and more. Poems like “As a Dignity” and “To Build a Sauna” (and “Give Me a Bushel of Tomatoes” quoted above)  center the reader, giving pause in the mix of uproar or discord or simple worry to show what matters in the moment. Other poems take a light-hearted look at coyotes and porcupines and even mops to build on the idea that poetry is for reflection both in earnest and in fun.

Rita Dove says “Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.” The poems in these pages are true to the form; they are good for the soul.

I’m honored to host Yvonne today to talk about her new chapbook, released by Hidden Timber Books last month. After the Q&A, CLICK HERE to enter the book giveaway for a chance to win a copy of The Salt Before It Shakes (courtesy of Hidden Timber Books).

Now, welcome Yvonne!

Christi Craig (CC): The Salt Before It Shakes is a lovely collection of poems, several of which couple the human experience with nature–from the outside looking in or the inside looking out. I’m thinking of “Tomato Hornworm, a Study” and “Imminent Rain” as two examples, the first a poem of relationships in a way; the second, one of mood. Nature and sense of self. I love this pairing. But which serves to inspire the poetry in you first, the introspection or the walk in the woods? 

Yvonne Stephens (YS): Mostly the walk in the woods first, which is a great exercise for getting me out of my head and being present. I think being clear headed and in the moment is an ideal, even idealized way to be ready to write a poem. But, my life is generally chaotic, so I’ve been learning how to write, and write well, in chaos, too. On my walks I am collecting images, fragments of lines that come to mind, or just getting my blood pumping (because I can be so sedentary).

My poems tend to be written late at night, when my family is asleep. If I’m working on something and I’m stuck, I’ll take a walk in the woods to mull it over.

“Tomato Hornworm”originated from a writing prompt, from an online poetry course that I took in 2013 with Holly Wren Spaulding–and also very much my backyard garden. “Imminent Rain” originated in an approaching storm.

CC: I have so many favorites in this collection, one being “Eleven Mops”…the language, the images, the play in lines like this, “As I work a mop around my feet, there it is: a microphone, the urge to sing.” I know this is a formal Q&A, but :D! Tell us a little more about those moments “Eleven Mops” came into form.

YS: “Eleven Mops” was written from an assignment from a class I took in 2009 (again, Holly Wren Spaulding), to emulate “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” by Wallace Stevens. I remember choosing to focus on mops. It was September, and I had just left from helping a friend do some cleaning. A mop is so simple, and just silly. Could I think about it in a multitude of ways? Why, yes! So it started from a place of play, of wanting to have fun. I especially like the last line because it incorporates a blackbird, a final connection to Stevens’ original poem.

CC: Speaking of play, last year you did #100daysofplay and #31daysofsnailmail projects.What did you love most about these projects, and what might be on the docket for 2018?

YS: What I loved most about these projects was the permission to prioritize things I love to do, and the accountability of posting about it in order to keep at it.

Play is essential to a thriving imagination, and letter writing is a way to slow down, reflect, connect with people I care about–all of these things enrich a life. They were so good for me. I was inspired to start this project by my friend, Jeannie Voller, who had done 100 days of dance, and invited others to do their own projects.

With “The Salt Before It Shakes” in print, I’m taking my first-ever book tour. I’m also working on a second book, with the working title, “These Hands Can” due out mid-2019 through Hidden Timber Books.

I enjoy collage work, sewing, and spotlighting the work of others. I might make these into projects I track on my blog in 2018–but no specific plans. Thanks for asking! You may have just started something.

CC: Which poets/books of poetry do you keep close at hand?

YS: Suzanne Buffam, Diane Seuss, Jane Kenyon, Fleda Brown. Contemporary Greek Women Poets” translated by Eleni Fourtouni, Thelphini Press (1978).

~

Yvonne Stephens lives with her husband and two children in Northwest Lower Michigan. She has worked as an assistant in the fields of mycology, forestry, and neurology research, volunteered for two year in the AmeriCorps, and most recently was an Artist Residency Coordinator for the Crosshatch Center for Art and Ecology. An award-winning poet, Yvonne was nominated for the Pushcart Prize in 2015, and her poems have appeared in the Dunes Review, the LAND Creative Writing Journal, and Family Stories from the Attic. Visit her blog at poetwith40eyes.com.


Don’t forget! Enter the book giveaway for a chance to win a copy
of The Salt Before It Shakes.

Author Q&A: Carol Wobig, The Collected Stories

“‘Ginny,’ I whispered into the darkness. ‘Ginny.’ I was no longer Mother Adalbert, Addie, superior of a community of two thousand women. Drunks and hordes of mosquitos were my community now. One landed on my arm. I let it pierce my flesh, drink my blood–my contribution to the world for the day.” ~ from “On My Knees” in The Collected Stories


If you’ve been a subscriber to this blog for a while, you know I love to introduce you to new books, spotlight up-and-coming authors, tempt you with good stories. Today’s Author Q&A is no different, except in format.

Carol Wobig is local author who published her full collection of short stories with a local publisher, Lisa Rivero at Hidden Timber Books, and she worked with a local editor: me. The three of us, then, constitute a Wisconsin triad of literary strength, bringing these wonderful stories into the literary light 🙂 Because of that, I’ve invited both Lisa and Carol to talk about Carol’s new book of short fiction entitled, The Collected Stories.

About the Book

Carol Wobig writes with unfailing sensitivity and empathy and in language that rings clear and true. In these seventeen stories and monologues, Wobig introduces us to grieving widows and questioning nuns, daughters intent on saving their mothers and mothers unsure how to save their children, each of whom faces the question we all must ultimately ask: how to save ourselves. Her characters and their experiences will live in the minds and hearts of readers long after the last page is turned.

Sensitivity, empathy, language clear and true. All those things make for easy editing. But it’s the stories themselves that make this project memorable. Running through the pages of the collection is a thread of humility and grace, soothing as much as it is satisfying, with characters whose dialogue and inner thoughts pull at you in familiar ways and whose subtle humor eases any heartache.

Read the Q&A, enjoy an excerpt from the collection below, and–as always–there’s a giveaway (courtesy of Hidden Timber Books). Enter the giveaway HERE (deadline: Tuesday, December 26th).

On Story

Christi Craig (CC): Lisa, what drew you to Carol’s stories?

Lisa Rivero (LR): I first heard Carol read from her stories at a Red Oak Roundtable, and I fell in love immediately with her memorable characters, her authentic voice, her clear-eyed and compassionate perspective on the world. She makes what she does look easy because there is nothing fancy or extra, no misplaced or awkward words to stumble on, but that clarity is the result of many, many drafts and close attention to detail. Her stories are mesmerizing.

CC: Carol, when you wrote these stories, were you inspired first by character, setting, or theme?

Carol Wobig (CW): This was a question that led to some thinking on my part, and in the end I realized that I often start from a person or object I’ve seen in passing. The piano in the snow I saw years ago in my neighborhood on my way to work. At the time thought I would use it in a story one day. And Marge arose from a woman I saw on a Sunday morning in the coffee shop where I write. She was dressed for church, I guessed, in a hat and sensible heels, and was in an intense conversation with a young man I imagined to be her son. Later on, they came together for the story.

My settings are always small-town and rural Wisconsin, the place I love. I grew up here, moved to San Diego for twenty years, but moved back when I was forty-five; I missed the trees and seasons so much.

When I started writing, I read what I think might have been hundreds of how-to books. The advice in one I’ve always followed is start your story with the day your character’s life changes. My themes grow out of that.

On Characters

CC: Lisa, this collection is full of memorable characters. Two of my faves: Sister Beatrix in “What Choice Do We Have” and Marge in “The Piano” and “Shoulder to Shoulder.” I’m curious, which character(s) would you love to read more about?

LR: All of them! I mean it. But if I had to choose, I agree with you on Marge (of course!) and Sister Beatrix (did she stay in the convent?) . And Alice (does she find reciprocated love?). And Kenny (please tell me he turns out alright). And Gwen…

CC: As a writer, Carol, which of the character(s) would you love to explore further?

CW: When I was re-reading the stories, I felt like I wanted to continue on with all of my people, see what happens next. They become like friends for me, eventually.

On Upcoming Works

CC: Lisa, what is next on the publishing front?

LR: I’m going to take a break from new projects for a year or two and am looking forward to getting the word out about Carol’s book and a new poetry chapbook by Yvonne Stephens: The Salt Before It Shakes.

CC: What about you, Carol? What are you writing these days?

CW: Right now, I’m working on Marge. And in the future, maybe something about my caretaking experiences, and about a rare disease I have, acromegaly, that there isn’t much written about.

~

Excerpt from “Shoulder to Shoulder” (Marge)

Looking at herself was a trial. She’d always been large, big-boned her mother had said, and now her skin, rippled and crinkled, hung from those bones. And the teeth. Always the teeth. There never had been the money for braces. Now there was life insurance money, but she should keep that for house repairs, if she didn’t do herself in. No, she wasn’t going to do herself in. Irene needed her, and Freddie was coming to visit. He’d called last night. She turned away from the mirror, switched to her patent-leather purse and dusted off her black flats. Better to be overdressed than under.

She’d thought about asking Melody to take her to the airport to pick up Freddie, but while her daughter was over her snit about not getting the piano, she and her brother didn’t always get along. And Freddie didn’t sound—she couldn’t put her finger on it — just didn’t sound like Freddie. Had he lost his job? Was he homeless?

At the airport — how’d she found it and parked without an accident she wasn’t sure — Marge stood like an island amidst the rush of travelers laden with backpacks and rolling suitcases, all wearing jeans. She read the screen telling her where her son would arrive, but did not realize she couldn’t go through security without a ticket. So she waited where the agent told her to and kept pressing the folds of the skirt close to her thighs to minimize her width. Why had she worn this dress? She felt like a float in a parade.

People hurried towards her up the ramp alone and in bunches, and after a long gap Freddie appeared. Ah, yes. Her son, looking older, tanned, thin, too thin. She waved to him, was surprised by the tears that threatened. He strode toward her and hugged her, a maneuver so unexpected that she stood there, engulfed in his arms like a statue. They weren’t a hugging family.

A younger man stood to Freddie’s left, smiling.

“This is my friend, Jeff,” her son said.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, and shook his extended hand. Did he need a ride, too? She wasn’t running a taxi service.

“Jeff wants to see the Midwest,” Freddie said. “I hope it’s okay that I brought him along.”

“Oh, sure. We have lots of room.” How like her Freddie. To take in a stray, to not tell her. Was the roast in the crock pot enough for dinner?

He had driven home, much to her relief. She sat in the back seat, to give Jeff a better view. As she mentally inventoried the refrigerator for ingredients for side dishes to add to dinner, she worried about Freddie. His ears looked huge, stood out from the tight skin on his neck and jaw.

“Sure smells good,” he said, as they walked up the back steps into the kitchen.

“I’m going upstairs to change,” Marge said. “We’ll eat in a minute.” In the bedroom, she unzipped the dress, hung it up, pinned a note to it that said “Burial Dress.”

~

About the Author

Inspired by the stories of Alice Munro, Carol Wobig started writing when she retired from making sauce in a pizza factory. Her award-winning work has appeared in Rosebud and other literary journals, and her monologues have been performed in community theater.

Learn more at carolwobig.com.


Don’t Forget! Enter the giveaway for a chance
to win a copy of The Collected Stories.

Q&A (& #Giveaway) with Steve Wiegenstein,
author of THE LANGUAGE OF TREES

“The tang of woodsmoke from cookstoves and fireplaces seasoned the evening air, and the first stars salted the sky. It was a good six miles to the railroad as the crow flew, but [Josephine] could hear the distant clack-clack of the northbound line, the banging of cars, and the screech of a whistle as it passed a crossing. Up from Texas with a load of cattle, no doubt. Cattle going north, emigrants and orphans going south. Bodies in motion.”
~ from THE LANGUAGE OF TREES


Bodies in motion. Change in action.

In general, I am a person who loves consistency and predictability. But even as I find solace in the routine of every day and plan my next 24 hours with care, I know there is only so much I can control. Change is inevitable.

In Steve Wiegenstein’s new novel, THE LANGUAGE OF TREES (Blank Slate Press), we witness the inevitable in the late-19th century Missouri town of Daybreak. Steadfast in its idyllic communal values, where no one man owns the land and every member of the community contributes to the well being of the others, Daybreak stands out as anomaly of its time with its years-old utopian philosophy. But booming industry and the American Lumber and Minerals Company circle the community in pursuit of Daybreak’s prized timber, forcing members of the community to make choices and threatening their unity. And even if the community can stay in tact, every person will be changed.

Steve Wiegenstein stops by today to talk about his newest novel, and (thanks to Blank Slate Press and Caitlin Hamilton Marketing & Publicity) there’s a giveaway! ENTER HERE by Tuesday, December 5th, for a chance to win a copy of THE LANGUAGE OF TREES.

Now, welcome Steve Wiegenstein!


Christi Craig (CC): Outside of writing fiction, you are a scholar of utopian movements. Was there something specific within your research that sparked the idea of Daybreak and its characters?

Steve Wiegenstein (SW)*: When I was studying the Icarians, a group of socialists who lived in the Midwest for about fifty years in the latter half of the 19th century, I was struck by the incredible level of commitment they showed to their ideas. They lived difficult lives, full of hardship and struggle, but they persisted.

I began my research with the typical sort of skepticism, but over time developed a great deal of respect for the “impractical utopians” who demonstrated such a belief in the power of ideas.

CC: On the topic of characters, I’m intrigued by the strong women in your book. Both Charlotte Turner and Josephine Mercadier stand out as leaders in the town with more freedoms to speak up and speak out than perhaps was the norm in the 19th century. Can we attribute this to the utopian society of Daybreak alone? Or could it be that women like Charlotte and Josephine in such a society simply find more courage to rise above normal expectations of gender?

SW: I think alternative communities definitely presented women with a broader latitude of opportunity, even under 19th-century circumscriptions. The Shakers were led by women for much of their history, and the Nashoba commune in Tennessee was founded by Fanny Wright, a Scottish-born abolitionist who was way ahead of her time. If you were an independent-thinking woman, the ideals of equality and social justice espoused by many of these communities would have proved quite appealing. Alas, quite a few of them didn’t live up to their words. The Icarians, for example, espoused equal suffrage but never got around to granting women the right to vote in their own community.

The strong women in my books are more influenced by the wonderful and strong women I have known in my own life. It’s been my great good fortune to have known many such women, from my own grandmothers, to my mother, aunts, spouse, daughter, and others, and to be able to observe them and draw lessons from them. In many ways, Charlotte and Josephine rise out of my own story more than they do from history.

CC: Language of Trees is the third novel in a series, though it stands well on its own as a complete and captivating story. Still, is there anything you’d like readers to know about books one and two (SLANT OF LIGHT and THIS OLD WORLD)?

SW: Well, they’re both great reads! But beyond that, the stories do interlink, although each book can be read separately. In SLANT OF LIGHT, we see the founding of the community that has reached its second generation in THE LANGUAGE OF TREES.  Characters also develop across the books; Charley Pettibone, for example, shows up in the first book as an illiterate and rather boastful young goofball, but by the second book he’s been through the war, with all the psychological baggage that entails, and when we see him in THE LANGUAGE OF TREES he’s middle-aged and people are looking to him for wisdom. So there’s immense satisfaction in that. I think reading the three books in order is its own sort of experience, over and beyond reading them individually.

CC: In a conversation with Steve Yates on Fiction Writers Review, you talk about Ozark writers and “writing the Ozarks.” I’d love to know more: other than place and setting, what does it mean to you to write the Ozarks?

SW: Two things: first, a keen interest in the natural rhythm of things. Above all else, the Ozarks are a rural place, and they ask for an appreciation of rural experience. That experience includes setting but goes beyond that, I think. Especially in the 19th Century, rural life was lived according to a different clock than urban life – not much of a clock at all, really. That’s one of the themes I work into THE LANGUAGE OF TREES, the conflict between lives lived by the sun and seasons. When J.M. Bridges builds his mill town, one of his first acts is to install a whistle to summon the workers at a set time in the morning. Such a thing was unknown before then, and the historians record all kinds of sabotage and resistance that workers engaged in to challenge this ownership of time. There’s an element of that resistance even today.

Second, a willingness to see past stereotypes into the lives of people who actually live there. I cringe when I watch or read a lot of narrative portrayals of the Ozarks, because they fall into the familiar tropes of murderous hillbilly, small town with a dark secret, outsider with suspicious motives, and so forth. I love it when writers engage with those stereotypes, because after all they do exist and we can’t pretend they don’t, but also move through them into richer and more nuanced portrayals. I grew up and went to school with a lot of people that a visitor to the area might call a “hillbilly,” with all the negative connotation that involves, but who have substantial inner lives behind that appearance. Working between these perceptions of character is a lot of what I would call “writing the Ozarks.”

CC: In response to the days when (for one reason or another) we cannot write, Patty Dann (The Butterfly Hours: Transforming Memories into Memoir) says we should not dismay but consider that time away from the page as a chance to “fill the well,” because “you must do something besides write, or you will lose your mind.” What besides your research fuels your writing or fills your creative well?

SW: My favorite activity to “fill the well,” which is such a lovely image, by the way, is to get in my car, head south, and get onto a river. I can be from my home to a river in a couple of hours, and the rest of the day is spent forgetting time, forgetting the challenges of life, and simply existing in the natural world. I have a half dozen rivers to choose from, each with its own personality: Black, Huzzah, Current, Jacks Fork, Gasconade, Meramec — and another dozen more that take a longer drive and at least an overnight stay. But a day on an Ozarks river will make a new man out of me. 

And to that “fill the well” image: when I was a youngster, I would occasionally visit the country school my parents had attended during the Depression, and it had a well out front. Since it wasn’t used very often by those days, you usually had to pour a little water down the pump shaft in order to create the necessary suction for the hand pump to work. That’s what is known as priming the pump, and most people nowadays have never actually primed a pump. But that reference reminded me of the act, which I think is most appropriate to the writer’s experience. You pour a little of yourself down that deep hole, and in return you get back a seemingly endless supply of sustenance. And the harder you pump, and the longer you pump, the more that comes out.

~

Steve Wiegenstein is the author of SLANT OF LIGHT (2012), THIS OLD WORLD (2014), and THE LANGUAGE OF TREES (2017). SLANT OF LIGHT was the runner-up for the David J. Langum Prize in American Historical Fiction, and THIS OLD WORLD was a shortlisted finalist for the M.M. Bennetts Award in Historical Fiction. Steve grew up in the Missouri Ozarks and worked there as a newspaper reporter before entering the field of higher education. He now lives in Columbia, Missouri. Learn more at stevewiegenstein.wordpress.com.

* Photo of Steve Wiegenstein (above) by Kaci Smart.


Don’t forget! Enter the giveaway by Tuesday, December 5th,
for a chance to win a copy of THE LANGUAGE OF TREES.