All around me, anxiety ramps up. The semester kicks off in two weeks. Syllabi are being completed and copied. The bookstore is sometimes failing to get books in. Teacher camp for new TAs is all next week, and I will have multiple roles. Indeed, I'm not the least anxious. In less than a week, I become the day-to-day public face of Prairie Schooner. It is already clear to me that I'm not being paid enough, though it is equally clear that it's a hell of an opportunity.
In new business, I'm trying to put together a chapbook and a full-length manuscript. I have a roster, so now I'm trying to figure out order, what's missing, last minute substitutions and so on. In my moments of relaxation, I breathe deeply and pray for REM. No, no. I'm reading Julianna Baggott's delightful book Compulsions of Silkworms and Bees. It's a playful, charming book where a lot of metatextual, wink-wink games are being played. Wit abounds, but with a sweet sadness to the pieces, as if Poe and Ogden Nash collaborated on poems that then got polished off by Jack Gilbert. How she gets the time to do these pieces, I have no idea. No REM sleep for you, I'd say.
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