Alright to get up to speed. Read the following in order
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August 2014 from Sarah Certa
How it caused an interview being PULLED from publication. OR support isn't being involved in controversy.
August 2014 from Sarah Certa
How it caused an interview being PULLED from publication. OR support isn't being involved in controversy.
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So, I received permission to publish the below interview on my own and one thing I want to say about the publisher and interviewer: They didn't want a controversy (Which is a huge long shot as I only talked about writing) or perhaps a lawsuit?? (Even longer shot--think winning the lottery ) Further proof is the joke I use at the end of the interview, I was asked to change because "some might find it offensive". Although I share a difference of opinion with the interviewer and implications on all of this, I will continue to be friends with that individual, as people in general do not agree with everything one another thinks at all times. The interview is a good one, featuring great questions and is one which I am damn proud of. It is about writing and process. It makes no reference to anything in any of the above blogs.
MY OPINION: Supporting women and the support of women should be a given! I stand behind any involvement in this case which I've had.
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Timothy Gager Interviewed by "Name Redacted".
Name Redacted: What is it about doors that makes for such a
compelling image/metaphor in art and literature?
Timothy Gager: The characteristic about doors, which I was utilizing was that they can open or close. They can keep things out or close and lock, never to be opened again, unless unlocked. As far as the ability to be used as metaphor, doors can be made from different materials, be painted different colors, can become unhinged. Doors can protect or be blown wide open. They can be the entry way to a mansion or an escape route from a trailer. Doors or "a door" can be the perfect prompt to delve into a poem or a story.
ND: Right. And as you say doors can become
“unhinged”. In your poem On the Phone, In the Middle of the Night there
is a violent unhinging taking place:
“My hands ball the sheets, ringing their necks until / death do us
part? Once, your father choked your brother, / lifted him until he nodded off
the wall, / years collapsing out of him – he never came back. /”
This reads as intensely personal, but for all we know it
could be a scene your mind lifted from a movie and transformed into a
poem. Do you consider yourself a poet of the confessional school?
TG: Yes, I am and if it's not my confessions it might be someone
else's. Often, I hear or experience something and I write it. Sometimes
after it's done I need to ask permission regarding the borrowed pieces of the
shambles. These lines from this poem in particular, reflecting and reading them
back now are kind of unfair that I used them, even though I asked the involved
party and they said it was ok. I question that a lot now, more than ever
before. I question what gives me the right...what gives me the fucking right.
ND: If
you have gotten permission (which most writers don't even bother to obtain!)
but if it is granted to you, or anyone, then it's my belief that the words need
to be put out there. They have touched you in a deep place. This is
such a strong poem. It would be a pity not to have written it.
Since you write about what you know, see, experience and hear in this
lifetime, as long as it's written from a sincere heart, you have
every fucking right to write it.
Which poem in this collection was the most difficult for you, and
why?
TG: There
is still harm being done to others by putting it out there, so I try to weigh
the honesty/harm ratio carefully.
As far as difficult poems for me, some of them are more
difficult to read because they are so personal, I feel naked in front of
people. "What Do Men Want for Kim A" is difficult to read because it
is misunderstood. People do not know Kim A. is Kim Addonizio and the poem is a
satirical answer to her "What Do Women Want". Without the frame of
reference I can come off as a creep.
The poem, "The Last Time in the Woods” is extremely tough for
me to wrap myself around because it deals with a suicide attempt. Life is
incredibly hard for people.
ND: Life is often incredibly hard. Does poetry give you a respite?
TG: Poetry
gives me quiet time in my head. Quiet time in my head gives me respite.
ND:
What does writing fiction do for you? I get riled up writing
fiction, I get very wired and usually go out afterward, and eat something or
take a walk or whatever. You?
TG:
Fiction...a beginning, a middle, and an end. Poetry can have 1-3 of those. To
me fiction is the twisting and twirling of the truth; the truth is in there as
what you want the frame of reference to be, but fiction is a blank canvas that
you can throw paint on and I mean hurl it.
ND:
Tell us a joke.
TG: Jesus
Christ is dying on the cross, his disciples are gathered around, crying. Peter
looks up and notices that Jesus seems to be calling him, "Peter, come
hither!" Immediately Peter rushes over to the cross, only to be hit
severely over the head by the Roman guard. He gets on his feet again and wants
to return to the other disciples when he hears Jesus calling again,
"Peter, come hither!" So, again Peter tries to climb the cross to get
to his Lord, when the Roman soldier draws his sword and chops Peter's arm off.
Peter is getting a little pissed and wants to go back to his buddies, but again
Jesus summons. The Roman guard can't believe that Peter is trying yet AGAIN to
climb to the cross, and chops off another arm. Peter is now covered in blood
and demented from the blow to the head and wants to call it a day. Jesus croaks
hoarsely, "Peter, please, come to me!" By now, the Roman guard is
tired of chopping limbs, so he lets Peter be. The faithful disciple struggles
to climb the cross (without arms mind you) and after a long while he finally
arrives at his Lord's side. Hurting, suffering, bleeding, Peter looks into his
Master's eyes and asks, "Yes, my Lord. What is it?" Jesus smiles
lovingly and looks off into the distance, then a weak smile plays across his
face, "Look Peter, I can see your house from here!"
NR: And, I suspect that house had a door.
