April J. Asbury, Writer

Tag: Appalachian

Spotlight: George Ella Lyon

October 13, 2022 / / 1 Comment
Author Gurney Norman hugs George Ella Lyon with a background of green leaves.
George Ella Lyon with Gurney Norman. Photo by Ann W. Olson

This long-overdue author spotlight honors one of my favorite writers, teachers, and people in the entire world: the gracious, multitalented George Ella Lyon!

In addition to her fiction, playwriting, songwriting, and poetry, Lyon’s books for young readers are a favorite in classrooms and libraries. Her newest book, Time to Fly, illustrated by Stephanie Fizer Coleman, features a hesitant baby bird enticed to leave the cozy nest for the first time.

Lyon is a writer who understands the importance of home, as well as the power of continuing to touch lives in a larger community. When her book All the Water in the World appeared in a cereal promotion, she was thrilled to think of her book finding families at the breakfast table.

Lyon’s work has traveled the world, perhaps none more so than her poem “Where I’m From.” She developed a writing exercise used by writers, teachers, and students of all levels; this year, her work turned up in a speech given by a certain familiar professor . . . Dr. Jill Biden.

. . . for my first lesson of the year, I use the poem, “Where I’m From,” by George Ella Lyon. Its verses tell the story of the author’s hometown, not in locations, but in sensations and experiences and memories. Then I ask my students to think about their own lives: Where does their inner strength come from? What made them who they are?”

First Lady Jill Biden, Los Angeles City College Commencement, 2022

Building Creative Communities

Lyon’s creative life is rich with teachers, mentors, and friends. She gives credit to her parents’ love of story and song, her marriage to a musician (a “partner who values the creative life as much as I do”), and her children who, she says, opened her eyes and deepened her soul.

“And I can’t leave out Richard Jackson,” George Ella says, “my beloved editor, who in 1984 invited me to write for children, giving me work that I love . . .” And of course credit also goes to “all the trees who have held and counseled me.” (Appropriate, considering her 1993 poetry collection, winner of the Appalachian Book of the Year award, was titled Catalpa!)

If you ask George Ella what she would most like to celebrate, a list of supporters, teachers, and fellow creatives pours out: Ruth Stone, Danny Marion, Gurney Norman . . . “Gurney got me to Hindman,” she says, “and you know what happens when you cross that bridge!”

At Hindman Settlement School, working with Jim Wayne Miller, washing dishes at the historic Appalachian Writers’ Workshop at Hindman Settlement School with Harriette Arnow, taking part in readings and classes and friendships, George Ella says she “grew up as a writer.” Those days have given her a writing community she still enjoys today.

Below is a writing prompt from George Ella Lyon that may look a little familiar: it’s a variation of a “Map” prompt shared by Leatha Kendrick. Lyon notes she and Kendrick are fast friends. Working together leads to learning together, not just about teaching, but about writing too.

In a perfect example of an entwined creative community, this exercise grew from shared work and creative community, including the shared inspiration of Jo Carson, who published maps of herself and her body in Now & Then magazine.

Writing Prompt: Mapping Your Memory House

While both Kendrick and Lyon begin the exercise with sketches, Lyon’s version “navigates memory in a different way.” Comparing these two is a great example of adapting a prompt for different audiences.

  1. Draw the floor plan of a place where you have lived. Show where all the rooms are. Use another page if you need to.
  2. Now make a note of a memory, something that happened in each room. Include hallways, bathrooms, closets, the attic, basement and garage. Write this directly on your map.
  3. Choose the memory that has the most energy for you. 
  4. Draw the scene in that room.
  5. Put yourself back there. Who was with you? How old are you?
  6. Take a sensory inventory. What can you taste, touch, smell, hear see? Write this on your map.
  7. Can you hear anyone talking? What do they say? Is there music?
  8. Is there something in this scene that you can’t draw?
  9. Is this a moment of power? Who has it? Does it shift from on person to another?
  10. Free-write this moment. You might begin “I am in the __________.”

We comfort ourselves by reliving memories of protection. Something closed must retain our memories, while leaving them their original value as images. Memories of the outside world never have the same tonality as those of home and, by recalling these memories, we add to our store of dreams; we are never real historians, but always near poets, and an emotion is perhaps nothing but an expression of poetry that was lost.

from Gaston Bachelard’s The Poetics of Space (1956, trans. Maria Jolas, 1969)

Teaching “Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyon

October 4, 2021 / / 1 Comment

“Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyon is called “the poem that went around the world.” This poem, a favorite in all levels of writing and literature classes, is rich with specific sensory detail: a child’s fascination with clothespins, cotton ball lambs, family names, and the secret taste of dirt.

concrete road between trees
Where are you from? Photo by Craig Adderley on Pexels.com

On September 22, I contributed to a workshop called “Sharing Identities and Building Relationships,” offered as part of the “Supporting All of Us” series. The event, sponsored by Schooltalking, #USvsHate, and The Conscious Kid, featured George Ella Lyon and the National Writing Project.

Sidebar reading, "SUPPORTING ALL OF US: Teaching against Hate, Bias, Injustice through Accurate and Inclusive Teaching. A series hosted by Schooltalking, #USvsHate and The Conscious Kid"
“Supporting All of Us” series goals

These organizations came together to recommend “Where I’m From” as a way to reach across cultures, regions, and other differences, both as an expression of identity and a reminder of our common humanity. Using “Where I’m From” encourages empathy in the classroom.

The Exercise

Share a copy of “Where I’m From” with students. There are multiple recordings of George Ella Lyon reading the work. You can share a video of the author reading the poem in her own voice, bringing another living writer into your classroom.

Open the floor to as much discussion as you need for your class. (You might find yourself explaining “carbon-tetrachloride,” for example!) Then, when you’re ready, ask the students to answer, in their own way, where they are from.

Lyon’s web page gives a list of helpful ideas to build on. Ultimately she reminds us: “Remember, you are the expert on you. No one else sees the world as you do; no one else has your material to draw on. You don’t have to know where to begin. Just start. Let it flow. Trust the work to find its own form.”

If you’re a teacher, do the exercise with your class. While you work with them, you’ll uncover your own powerful images and memories. When you write with your students, the exercise becomes a shared experience of learning and connection.

In the Classroom

Lyon says the work of poet and dramatist Jo Carson helped inspire the poem. Carson’s poetry collection, Stories I Ain’t Told Nobody Yet, gathers many different voices. Each speaker reveals their cares, worries, and passions.  

Over the past 20 years, I’ve led students from elementary to graduate school in readings and exercises based on “Where I’m From.” From elementary school to college, creative writing to literature to first-year composition, this exercise continues to resonate.

Often I pair “Where I’m From” with work from other Appalachian writers whose work touches on themes of identity, the music of different voices, and connection:

Hearing voices such as Lyon, Carson, Walker, and many others opens up a class to exploring their own identity, as well as hearing and respecting the stories of others.

The nature of “Where I’m From” focuses on the intimate details of life and memory. When we connect those evocative details, with their hints of history and shared experience, with our own, we practice empathy. We could all more of that.

Spotlight: Charles A. Swanson

September 6, 2021 / / 1 Comment
Photograph portrait of Charles A. Swanson in a blue patterned shirt
Poet, teacher, and minister Charles A. Swanson

Poet Charles A. Swanson may have retired from teaching English, but he will always be a writer. An MFA graduate from Queens University, he currently publishes as a designated “Frequent Contributor” for the quarterly e-zine Songs of Eretz Poetry Review.

As a pastor for Melville Avenue Baptist in Danville, Swanson writes weekly sermons and reflections. His spirituality, including deep concern for nature and rural life, runs through his poems. “My poetry comes from a pastor’s view of the world,” Swanson says, “and, I hope, from a pastor’s heart.”

Two books and a wooden turtle on a handmade purple afghan
Books, with a “hardshell” visitor

Swanson’s lovely chapbook, Farm Life and Legend, is available from Finishing Line Press. (This book, with cover art by Drew A. Swanson, is even prettier in person.) The book brings together narratives and the witness of nature, as in “Turtles Rising.”

After the Garden: Selected Responses to the Psalms is Swanson’s full-length poetry collection from Motes Books. Seeing the words, “Responses to the Psalms,” might lead you to expect didactic, oatmeal-plain paraphrases.

But Swanson’s work is full of surprises, including wry humor and the realities of rural life. Swanson begins each poem with verses chosen for beauty of language, spiritual challenge, and unexpected connections.

Consider “The Profane and the Holy,” inspired by the verse, “He who has clean hands and a pure heart . . .” And subtitled “Hog killing on the day before Thanksgiving.” This concise poem mingles the spiritual resonance of the verse with powerful, bloody imagery.

Writing Exercises: Image as Gateway

For this spotlight, Swanson provided two exercises involving imagery. As he says, “Imagery can evoke emotions, and be the horse on which intriguing narrative rides.”

Both exercises have been classroom-tested in secondary school English for years. Swanson had great success with first-years, sophomores, juniors, and seniors . . . And I bet they’d translate well in other levels, too.

The “Scentsational” Experience

  • Take 12 lidded Styrofoam cups. Place a strong-smelling everyday substance in each. Substance can be solid or liquid. (Make sure to avoid known or common allergens, such as peanut butter!)
  • Ask the students, by smell only, to make their best guess about each cup’s contents.
  • After all the sniffing is over, guessing, and debating is over, the instructor identifies each cup.
  • Then the students are asked to choose one scent. (They can choose any of the 12, another strong scent tied to memory, or even their misidentification of a cup’s contents.)
  • Now write about how the smell figures in memory.

Swanson warns the excitement of the exercise may not lead to the most literary poetry, but you’re going to see an entire classroom come to life.

More “Hands-On” Learning

  • Give each student one piece of white bread from an ordinary loaf of store-bought bread.
  • Ask them to remove the crust. (Some ask if they can eat the crust; Swanson says he always allowed it, but in days of Covid use your best judgment.)
  • Squeeze a generous amount of white school glue on each student’s crustless slice of bread.
  • Work the bread and glue into a putty.
  • Show the students how to shape the “clay” into rose petals
  • Press the rose petals gently onto the end of a toothpick and allow to set. After it hardens, students can paint the rose if they choose.
  • After experiencing the changing texture of that sticky paste, ask them to write about any experience they remember involving a strong sense of touch.

For an example of how this exercise can bring out memories turned to poetry, Swanson offers a poem from the Spring 2021 issue of Songs of Eretz Poetry Review. His poem, “What would I put my hand in?” is an obvious response, but I’d bet his poem “Afghan,” from the same issue, would spark a lot of tactile images too.

Make one, two, three, ninety squares–
somewhere in there the shape
becomes rote, as do the twists
of wrist, the slide of yarn
over the finger holding taut
the thread and emerging weave.

from “Afghan” by Charles A. Swanson, published in Songs of Eretz

The Trouble with Muses

August 30, 2021 / / 0 Comments

A working writer can’t wait for inspiration. The stereotype of a writer sitting with pen in hand, eyes rolled heavenward while waiting for “The Muse” to descend, bears little resemblance to reality. Waiting for inspiration just leads to blank pages and frustration.

Painting of a young woman, crowned with laurels, writing in a book
Can’t you see she’s already busy? (Clio, Muse of History, by Johannes Moreelse)

Just ask Jack London, who advised writers, “Don’t loaf and invite inspiration; light out after it with a club, and if you don’t get it you will nonetheless get something that looks remarkably like it.”

Rather than wait for divine inspiration, we keep our clubs at the ready. We have hundreds of books with writing prompts and exercises. Take Holly Lisle’s frankly-named book Mugging the Muse: Writing Fiction for Love AND Money.

Below is an old poem I wrote about a violent Muse encounter. It still makes me smile. (No writers or Muses were actually harmed in the writing of this poem.)

Why I Don’t Walk So Good Anymore:
The Minor Regional Writer Tells All

Well, I was writing.
And the words were coming
fast as a cat with its tail on fire,
big as life, bright as spring, thick
as Jesus’s great big gobs of sweat
when he talked to God in the garden.

Then I saw Her, standing at my chair,
her hand all chummy on my shoulder,
and felt her carbon-sweet breath at my ear.
She had big yellow wings and a long white robe
under a flannel shirt with cowboy boots
poking silver tips out under the hem.

I knew I’d found my muse.

She smiled, caught in the act, and rose
those big gold wings fanned out for takeoff.
I knew she’d be gone, lickety-split, so I caught
her by the wrist. Ever wonder why
nobody grabs onto a muse? Well,
I saw that left hook coming and reckoned
I’d figured it out.

The rest of the night is hazy. I reached
for her neck; she reached for mine.
Her wings swept my shelves clean
when I tackled her to the floor. Feathers flew
like a live duck in a blender. She hissed
and squawked and swore I’d never write again,
but her hand smacked my thigh instead of my arm,
and numbness seeped through to the bone.

I held on. She shook me like a spider
on a wet rag. I dug in my nails
until her ink-blood rose. We grappled
through grit and grime and fist-sized dustballs,
until I got her. I got the Muse by the throat,
got my hands on the pulse of Art itself,
and I began to squeeze.

That’s when she brained me
with my Bill Shakespeare lunchbox.

And I saw galaxies and whirlwinds
and those dustballs spinning loops in the cosmos
and about three or four of Her ascending
into a blaze of glory and little singing birdies.

When I came to, my lunchbox was busted.
But I haven’t stopped writing since.

Revised from publication in The Ampersand, Spring 1996.

Writing Prompt:
Your Own Inspired Encounter

What would your Muse(s) look like? Try to imagine them as they would appear to you. What are they wearing? What do they smell like? Do they speak, sing, nod along with your work? Have some fun with this one!

Nine muses carved in relief on the base of a Roman sarcophagus
Hey, hey, the gang’s all here . . . Nine Muses on a Roman sarcophagus.

Author Spotlight: Jim Minick

August 16, 2021 / / 0 Comments

The phrase “triple threat” pops up in sports far more often than in creative writing. But if there is a “triple-threat author,” Jim Minick fits the bill, with his moving poetry, award-winning novel, and thought-provoking creative nonfiction. 

Head shot of author Jim Minick, smiling, against a background of green ivy
Author Jim Minick

The first work I encountered from Minick was his poetry, published in several local and regional journals. Some of those poems would evolve into Her Secret Song, a portrayal of the growing relationship between nephew and aunt.

Later, in 2008, Minick published another collection, Burning Heaven, which won the 2008 Book of the Year Award from the Virginia College Bookstores Association. (If you follow these links, scroll past the well-deserved high praise of these works, and you’ll find outstanding samples from each volume.)

A heap of fresh-picked blueberries
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

My family subscribed to The Roanoke Times with an almost religious dedication, and for some years we were treated to “Field Work,” Minick’s monthly column in its New River Current.

Those reflective columns hinted at his book-length creative nonfiction works, Finding a Clear Path and The Blueberry Years. The latter, inspired by his family’s creation of an organic, pick-your-own blueberry farm, entwines personal experiences with reflections on national issues . . . And, of course, blueberries, blueberries, blueberries.

In addition to his poetry and nonfiction, Minick had another type of story he wanted to share: the novel Fire Is Your Water. This fictional story marked a venture into magical realism, creating a work Lee Smith calls, “a love story wrapped in horror, fire, and faith.”

Now that Minick has retired from the classroom, he has three new projects in the works. That’s right—three new books on the way.

Told you . . . He’s a triple threat!

A Favorite Writing Exercise

Minick attributes this exercise to Bill Roorbach’s Writing Life Stories. He says he’s used it “often and with great success”; like all the best writing exercises, this one can surprise you.

Write a letter explaining yourself to someone you know. Don’t expect to send the letter. The recipient can be dead or alive.

“The exercise often gets to deep emotional struggles and truths,” Minick says, “and often it is a great way to really find or think about your voice.”

What will you discover through writing a letter? Try it, and listen for the music of your own voice.

In Memory of Jeff Daniel Marion

August 4, 2021 / / 1 Comment

On July 29, 2021, regional literature lost a powerful and eloquent poet, teacher, mentor, editor, printer, and friend. Jeff Daniel Marion was a prolific author, publishing Letters to the Dead, Ebbing and Flowing Springs–in total, according to Still Journal, nine poetry collections, four poetry chapbooks, and a children’s book.

The children’s book, Hello Crow, is one of my favorite illustrated books. This story celebrates the wonder of nature, which lasts a lifetime, accompanied by Leslie Bowman’s vibrant artwork.

A selection of Marion's books, including a volume of Hello Crow, an issue of Iron Mountain Review, Letters to the Dead, The Chinese Poet Awakens, and Miracles of Air
A celebration of Marion

Another illustrated jewel is Miracles of Air, a 12-page chapbook illustrated by George Chavatel, a beloved artist and professor at Emory & Henry College for many years. Marion hand-set 226 copies, including 26 lettered “A-Z,” signed by author and artist.

Marion shared a vision of the book as a whole piece of art, not just free-floating poems. (Those poems, floating now across digital pages, still shine with their own grace and integrity.) Marion’s vision gave us a cohesive creation of poetry, visual art, and printed design.

When I began this post, I almost typed the cliched words, “A voice in poetry has fallen silent.” But that isn’t true at all. Through his carefully-crafted work, his numerous students and readers, we can still hear his voice, and it will echo for generations.

Jeff Daniel Marion Online

Remembering Some Advice

In addition to his writing and teaching, Jeff Daniel Marion was a printer. He spent long hours hand-setting type, an experience he described to classes and workshops.

Writers often say each word matters. (The legendary William Strunk Jr., of Strunk & White fame, commanded us: “Omit needless words.”) As a printer, Jeff Daniel Marion said he learned a much deeper appreciation for cutting excess words.

Marion would laugh as he described long hours setting a poem word by word, letter by letter. Once each word meant extra work, he was acutely aware of the words a poem needed and the words to let go.

Few of us have access to vintage printing presses, but his story is a reminder to slow down, read closely, and then read even closer. Take a poem or paragraph you need to revise and copy it by hand in your most careful print. Have patience, give your full attention–have mercy on the printer!–and savor every word.

What we leave behind is memory,
those little seeds drying on the sill,
the hope of harvest
to return again and again.

     Jeff Daniel Marion, from The Chinese Poet Awakens

The Highland Summer Conference is Back!

June 28, 2021 / / 2 Comments

COVID interrupted all our lives, and we still live with its consequences. The Highland Summer Conference is one of many longstanding traditions that 2020 interrupted. This July, however, the annual workshop and class marks its 43rd event. Rejoice, writers and readers–the Highland Summer Conference is back!

Banner for the 2021 Highland Summer Conference, July 19-23 2021. Photo of Diane Gilliam, guest writer.
From the 2021 Highland Summer Conference flyer

The Highland Summer Conference evolved from a residency program at Radford University, Virginia, in 1978. This creative workshop, hosted in the Blue Ridge mountains, features Appalachian themes and Appalachian writers. This year, the workshop welcomes two favorite guests: Diane Gilliam and Leatha Kendrick.

Photo of guest author Leatha Kendrick. Public readings in McConnell Library, July 20 and 22, at 7 PM.

Students can take the workshop for course credit, as both undergraduates and graduates. If you don’t need the credit, you can still take the event as a conference (with a special rate for seniors, too).

If COVID has been hard on your finances, you can still attend free readings on Tuesday and Thursday from the guest authors. And, if you can’t be here in person, this year also offers virtual participation.

I’ve participated in the Highland Summer Conference as a student and a guest author. The experience remains a special one.

One of my favorite comments about the HSC experience is from Bonnie Erickson, a frequent participant, quoted in the 1997 volume of ALCAlines: “In this class you write about life–your life. . . . Some write about happiness, but just as many write about pain. Many write of success and some write of failure. Many come in wounded. Hundreds leave healed. I was among the latter.”

What a testament to the power of a writing community. With the return of the HSC, particularly with guests such as Diane and Leatha, attendees can refresh the creative spirit, produce new work, listen to a pair of fine writers, and maybe even find a little healing themselves.

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