Author Leatha Kendrick in a bright scarf and oak-leaf earrings
Author Leatha Kendrick, photograph by Kevin Nance

In July, the Highland Summer Conference at Radford University hosted two powerhouse poets: Diane Gilliam and Leatha Kendrick. While this visit was Kendrick’s first to the HSC, she has a prolific creative career as a writer, teacher, presenter, and workshop leader.

Recently Kendrick released her fifth book of poetry, And Luckier, through Accents Publishing, which praises it as “her bravest, most mature work.” Additional praise from Molly Peacock, Kathleen Driskell, Pauletta Hansel, and Sherry Chandler follows, but perhaps George Ella Lyon describes And Luckier most aptly: this is “a mature poet’s reckoning.”

Cover of And Luckier, Kendrick's most recent book
Cover for And Luckier

In addition to And Luckier, Kendrick’s other publications include Almanac of the Invisible, Second Opinion, Science in Your Own Backyard, and Heart Cake, as well as a whole slew of journals and anthologies. The first time I encountered her work was in The Southern Poetry Anthology, Volume III: Contemporary Appalachia, an outstanding collection of modern regional authors.

Below is one of Kendrick’s favorite writing exercises, a prompt that brings together writing, drawing, and memory for potent results. (Note for teachers: this exercise works for poetry as well as essays; if you need a “starter” for a personal experience narrative, “Map the House” is gold!)

Here’s “Map the House,” as used by Leatha Kendrick, in her own words. Used with permission.

Writing Exercise: Map the House

In The Poetics of Space, Gaston Bachelard asserts “the houses that are lost forever continue to live on in us: . . . they insist in us in order to live again.”

I first did this exercise at the Appalachian Writers Workshop sometime in the late 1980’s. It may have been Jo Carson who gave us the assignment. Other writers of my acquaintance (George Ella Lyon, in particular) have used their own variations on this prompt to generate powerful and surprising writing.

Here it is: an exercise to help you write more vividly about the “housed” memories of your life.

  1. Sketch a floorplan of a house or room that is important to you.
  2. In each area of the map, place the objects that come to mind.
  3. Label each object or piece of furniture with sensory memories or events they bring to mind. “The kitchen smelled of bacon grease (or cardamom or coffee) . . .
  4. Note any actions or voices or phrases that come up.
  5. When you are ready, start writing. Try to write quickly, without too much thought. Don’t second-guess, even if you think you are going “off topic.” Trust whatever comes. If you don’t remember something, say, “I don’t remember . . .” or “I wonder why . . .” and keep writing.

Remember: Writing is an act of discovery.

We are likely to vividly remember moments, single instances, and often in a more sensory than verbal way. In other words, our most vivid memories are likely to be ones we have not yet narrated for ourselves, rather than the stories we’ve been told or the “facts” about our lives. Our bodies store memories in our skin, our noses, our nerves, our bones – and not only in our brains.

We know more than we think we remember.

The things we have forgotten are housed.
Our soul is an abode and by remembering houses and rooms,
we learn to abide within ourselves.

Gaston Bachelard