The Weekly Atticus (10/13/2018)

Revisit the Words of Your Forgotten Self | The Weekly Atticus

October 13, 2018

A recap of the week at Atticus Review, along with some extras.

Dear ,

I’m in the midst of a writer’s block that’s lasted so long, if I was a less optimistic person, I might be worried I may never write again. However, I am also in the middle of a great life upheaval, the kind which one day will likely be good “material,” but in the present moment requires a type of alertness and tending-to counter to the state one requires for creative inspiration. Perhaps this is why there is so little cave art. While many studies have indicated certain emotional states are optimal for creative work, I don’t think any of those studies conclude that “fight or flight” is conducive to art marking. However, it’s not a bad time for revision.The great life upheaval has involved two moves in less than two years: one across the world and the second across town. I did the most culling for the first move. So by the time I had to pack up my things to move across town this past summer, there wasn’t much to sort through; the benefit of which was I had the chance to weed through papers, something I hardly ever have the patience to do when I’m packing for a move.Among the papers was a translucent blue pocket folder. Inside one of the pockets were five typewritten pages: poems I had written four years ago, the weekend I turned 40, on a vintage Hermes typewriter my husband bought me as a gift that year. I am not someone who easily forgets, and yet I had forgotten those poems. In fact, I so forgot those poems, I didn’t even recognize the voice of the poet who wrote them. However, there was one poem amongst the forgotten I fell a little bit in love with. The writer was seeking a way out of her loneliness, out of her attachment to the past. If I am being truly honest, I think what I fell in love with, in fact, was the 40-year-old me who wrote it. I felt such tenderness for her, as I sat there in an office filled with cardboard boxes. I wanted to hold her, pet her, soothe her, as if she was a child. My child.Instead, I took her poem, tightened it, and sent it out into the world, as an act of celebration. For she did find her way out of her loneliness and her attachment to that particular past — in no small part thanks to her writing life.A book that lit a fire under 40-year-old me was Adrienne Rich’s empowering On Lies, Secrets, and Silence. Included in that collection is Rich’s essay "When We Dead Awaken: Writing as Re-Vision," in which she writes:“Re-vision – the act of looking back, of seeing with fresh eyes, of entering an old text from a new critical direction – is for women more than a chapter in cultural history: it is an act of survival. Until we understand the assumptions in which we are drenched we cannot know ourselves.” If you find yourself in a bit of a great life upheaval, open up an old folder or notebook or file filled with words written by a forgotten self. While you may not have the inner peace needed to write, perhaps you have fresh enough eyes with which to revise.When you’re finished revising, send us some of those forgotten poems. Or maybe some Flash Fiction for our fall contest! We can’t wait to read them. Thanks for reading. We’re glad you’re here.Jen MaidenbergColumns Editor

ATTICUS NEWS

SWEET SIXTEEN! Only 16 more days to send us your FLASH!SEND US THAT FLASH THIS WEEKEND!First Prize: $500. Deadline: 10.29.2018

Atticus Review is one of the few literary journals out there publishing videopoetry!  Do you make films of your poetry? If so send it in to our Videopoem Contest judged by Marie Craven. First Prize: $300Deadline: December 3rd, 2018

THIS WEEK AT ATTICUS

FERAL TOWN by Adam Gustavson

BOOK REVIEW: WEIRD JOBS AND GUILTY PLEASURESA Review of WORK OPPORTUNITIES: STORIES by Teresa MilbrodtReview by Rick Claypool"Milbrodt is a Surrealist Studs Terkel exploring the grimy and unglamorous aspects of her unlikely characters’ everyday lives..."READ ON

FICTION: THREE STORIES by Claire Polders"Saskia Meijers nagged me all winter. 'Why does your father fear God so much?'"READ ON

POETRY: bare handsby Michelle Bailat-Jones"Here I take your words off one by one—I do not letthem litter, I tuck them in boxes—but this just makesme into the first tree to drop her leaves, see mebrittle now, my arms up to the sky."READ ON

CNF: BLINDED BY THE LIGHTby Mindy Haskins RogersThe latest in our Superunknown: Stories About Songs series. "Sometimes we did ride alongs, huddled low in the shell of the gutted car next to my father, turning ovals on gravel."READ ON

MIXED MEDIA: REAL REALISM: AN ART MANIFESTO FOR THE DISENCHANTEDThis is the opening salvo for a multi-media, one-woman performance piece I am currently writing for Zoe Anastassiou, Mama Dada. It is loosely based on the life of the Godmother of New York Dada, Baroness Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven.READ ON

FILM REVIEW: THE ART OF THE SPOOF: AMERICAN VANDAL IS ON POINTby Alison Lanier"From creators Dan Perrault and Tony Yacenda, the viral hit embraces the best of meta-storytelling and takes it in a new and energizing direction."READ ON

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