Gloss Reviews, stay tuned

My third book of poetry, Gloss, came out in 2019 and I really didn’t do much to acknowledge it. I’m not great at self-promotion, and like a lot of writers I quickly lose belief in the things I make, quickly moving on to the next project. There’s a little “hedonic treadmill’ operating here as well — once something it published, it’s “done” and I abandon it. If I look at it at all, I see the flaws..

But what’s wrong with being proud of something you worked hard on? Gloss was the product of years of work, of trying to figure out who I was when I didn’t have employment to define me, when I had years of rejection on the academic job market, when I was a new mother and when my body didn’t feel like my own in so many ways. The book came out of a lot of pain and joy and uncertainty .

I never know how to celebrate when I’ve accomplished something, and so often I don’t. But I’m working on that. So this is belated, but I think over the next few weeks I’ll share some reviews of Gloss, both to do a little self-promotion and to thank the people who spent time with my work and found something worthy of consideration.

I’ll start with a little one in a big venue — this one surprised me quite a lot, and yes, I did go buy a paper and look at it when it came out. ;)

The review is small, as “New and Notable” always is, and so I’ll just copy it and include a link to the source

GLOSS By Rebecca Hazelton. (University of Wisconsin, paper, $14.95.) Hazelton’s poems cast a teasing light over the surface sheen of social norms, the playacting in every relationship: “Let’s pretend to be with other people,” one ends, “until we’re with other people.” But beneath their own witty surfaces, the poems also brim with loss and serious moral inquiry. 

source: https://www.nytimes.com/2019/02/26/books/review/new-poetry.html

What I did on my summer vacation

vincent-ghilione-cVaTkeN_xqI-unsplash.jpg

How I spent my summer vacation

spoiler: I caught COVID-19

In my last post, I mentioned I was going to read in the 45 Reading Series in Chicago. I really wanted to…but as the date drew near and the COVID-19 pandemic worsened, it seemed more and more like a bad idea to be in a group with a bunch of people, even if they were awesome poetry people. So I withdrew, and the event ended up cancelled because a number of people felt the same way, including the organizers. I hope that event will happen again in some form, and I’ll keep you posted.

Since then…I’ve done a lot of nothing.

Which is to say, I got really, really sick.

I caught COVID-19 in late April. We were social distancing, and I was the only one venturing out to run errands. I most likely caught it in a grocery store, but who knows. What I do know is that one day I realized I was getting winded going up the stairs, and pretty soon, talking was hard to manage due to breathlessness. Then I was at the doctor, learning I had full blown pneumonia and was very sick indeed. After that, it’s a blur — weekly and sometimes daily doctor visits. I needed help walking into the building. I had to be wheeled out after one appointment. All of it was bizarre to me because no matter how sick I got, I somehow couldn’t wrap my mind around it because it seemed so sudden and severe. I had a profound sense of unreality about the whole thing, which I suppose helped in a way because I couldn’t comprehend it well enough to be really scared, even as others around me were. Some of this was probably due to the weird neurological effects of COVID.

After I was past the worst of it, I still had lingering symptoms. Turns out, I was one of those lucky “long haulers” for COVID. For about two and a half months, I continued to be debilitated, spending most of my time on a couch. In between the fatigue and joint pain, I would have bouts of feeling fine, and would become convinced I was ok and it was over. But then the pain would resume, somehow all the worse for having had a reprieve. I had difficulty finding certain words when I was talking, although not when I wrote them down, which was strange. I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to have constant pain, but I have a better appreciation now for what sufferers must go through. It made me feel hopeless and irritable.

Finally, my doctor tried a series of steroid treatments, and by the third round, I find myself mostly free of symptoms (I still get some joint pain at night when I go to bed). Now, I have to try and build up my strength again. I am lifting weights, and walking on a treadmill. If I try running, I find myself having to sit on the floor to catch my breath and still my heart. It’s humbling, to say the least. Before this, I was no athlete, but I lifted three times a week. I was in pretty good shape for my age, which oddly enough, seems to be typical of the long haul Covid patients. I can usually find my words when speaking, unless I’m very tired, so I’m relieved to see that has lessened.

I haven’t had a lot of energy to be creative, or to even think about being creative. But now that I’m doing a little better, and now that I have caught up on all the things I should have been doing this summer while I convalesced, I’m trying to think about what I want to do, and what I have to say. I’m thinking a lot about what place writing has in my life, and what my priorities are going forward. I’ve especially been thinking about where I put my time and energy.

I hope you are all well and taking care of yourself as best you can. It’s a frightening illness, and I was lucky to have family and friends take care of me and mine during this time. i hope you have similar strengths in your life.