writing – Kristin Houlihan, Writer

A poetry prompt (and some kids books) for you!

My husband took our kids to Yosemite National Park and some nearby outdoor sites a couple of weeks ago. I sent them with some “homework” for a project: take a photo of something outdoors you see that you love.

When they came home, we printed their photos, and then they painted (one elected to use pastels instead) based on the photo and wrote a poem with the following prompt:

“If I were (outdoors thing), I would…” — repeated five times.

So, we got four poems: “If I were an alpine lake;” “If I were a volcano crater;” “If I were a snake;” and “If I were a snowy mountain.” I know it’s kind of a tease to tell you all this and not share the writing and art, but… it’s not mine to share. Instead, I can share the inspiration for the project:

I slightly adapted the “If I were a tree” project from the list of outdoor art projects you can find here: OUTDOOR ART FOR ALL AGES: A YOSEMITE MARIPOSA GUIDE. (They didn’t actually go to the Mariposa grove). I can easily see us doing some of the other projects after excursions to other places too!

SO – I promised books! We realized the younger kids didn’t have any idea who John Muir is, even though his name is all over everything here (“Hey! That’s my doctor!”). So, I got some library books:

Camping with the President by Ginger Wadsworth, illustrated by Karen Dugan – This is a text-heavy picture book about John Muir and Theodore Roosevelt camping in Yosemite. I read it aloud to the younger two; I had used it years ago for homeschooling fourth grade CA history. We all enjoyed it. It’s good for learning about Muir, Roosevelt, conservation in general, and Yosemite in particular. At one point the back matter talks about how many acres of protected land Roosevelt added during his presidency; one of the kids said, “Isn’t Trump doing the exact opposite?” Yes.
Wildheart: the daring adventures of John Muir by Julie Bertagna, illustrated by William Goldsmith – This one is a graphic novel biography of John Muir. I haven’t read it but I’m told it’s funny, and two of the kids were fighting over it today so it must be good. I love the increase in graphical nonfiction because it has really encouraged my kids to WILLINGLY read more nonfiction.
Camp Time in California by Mary Pope Osborne, illustrated by A.G. Ford – Magic Treehouse series #35. We haven’t read it yet but it looks like Jack and Annie travel to California, meet John Muir, and help save the wilderness? My youngest has recently enjoyed another book in the series so I thought we’d give this a try too.

I’ve been meaning to pick up some of John Muir’s writing myself but there’s a lot and I’m not sure where to start. Anyone have a suggestion?

“The Myth of Neutral Books”

The title of this post is in quotes because I appropriated it from an author friend’s newsletter, and I quote him here:

Primary days, like today in my state, make politics visible. Books work more slowly. They work under the surface, shaping our sympathies before we realize anything’s happening at all. Long before we vote, stories have already been teaching us what feels normal, what feels outrageous, what feels possible, and who deserves the benefit of the doubt. — Ryan Pozzi, Author

We were lucky enough to publish Ryan in Epistemic Lit’s Nostalgia issue last year, and I’ve since signed up for his newsletter, Life on the Midlist, which I look forward to reading every Tuesday because it always contains wisdom like the quote above. Sign up to get it in your inbox or read it on his website!

So why am I quoting Ryan here in my post? The political nature of writing is something that’s been on my mind lately. Our most recent Epistemic issue is overtly political–nothing neutral about it. Righteous Rage is the topic, and the writers brought fire! That said, I don’t agree with every viewpoint presented in the issue. At the outset of the magazine that was something I struggled mightily with but I don’t anymore; my co-founder and friend Melissa summed it up really, really well (far better than I ever could! so please read it!) in this interview she did for Emrae Publishing’s Read and Resist feature: Leaflets of Rebellion with Epistemic Lit.

So that brings me back to Ryan’s quote. Reading shapes us and shapes our worldview. What and who we pay attention to is a statement of value, of respect, of attention. As a publisher, I’m drawn to poems I don’t understand or with which I disagree because I want to listen and learn. My faith is a giant question mark these days but I firmly believe in the dignity of every human person, and I believe we are called to love every human person. I love by paying attention–what I choose to publish (and, separately, to read and to guide my children to read–a topic for another post!) is a reflection of what I’m paying attention to, what I’m listening to, what I’m trying to understand. What I hope others pay attention to. So we can have a little more love and a little less hate.

Can’t leave without encouraging you to preorder Ryan’s upcoming book, The Mess That Made Them. Click the cover below to preorder via bookshop dot com!

Cover of "The Mess that Made Them: How History's Greatest Artists failed, floundered, and made something brilliant anyway" by Ryan T. Pozzi

To touch another person, isn’t that the goal?

I’ve struggled recently to put into words why I feel the need to publish what I write, why it isn’t enough to write just for me. Why do I want to seek publication for my writing, why doesn’t my blog feel like enough of a place for that? I think it’s ultimately a thirst for human connection, the desire to touch another person through my writing. I’ve read SO much and been touched so often in unexpected ways, sometimes by just a phrase, and I want to put myself out there and share, in the hopes of touching someone else.

Last Saturday I had a really super awesome experience that made me say, “Yes, I’m a real writer,” at the same time I got tears in my eyes. I wrote a poem and posted it on Twitter for #vss365. The prompt was the word “poleaxe,” of all things, and it was inspired by an unexpected but powerful resurgence of grief I’d had earlier in the week. Here’s the poem:

Grief

is a poleaxe

to the heart

that keeps coming

but never kills,

piercing anew,

all-encompassing

unexpected agony

always hovering,

ready to strike

its unsuspecting

victim.

Not long after I published that tweet, a got a private message from someone on Twitter asking if she could share my poem. She was in India, which is having a really bad time with COVID right now, and had been touched by my words; she thought her friends might as well.

I wrote a tweet-length poem in a few minutes, and people halfway around the world experiencing immense grief got comfort from my simple words. It’s incredible, really, and I am so grateful this internet stranger took the time to tell me what my poem meant to her. So many writers never know, and I don’t expect to always get this kind of reaction – but THIS is why I want to share what I write.