Katie's Blog

PPV, Circa 2011! Reading the First April is a busy month. We've been through this already. But you know what? Right now's a good time to pause and reflect on a little something called Poetry, Pasta and Vino. Poetry Pasta and Vino began as a reading series at Carino's Italian, hosted by none other than the Barrio Poet, Edward Vidaurre. It turned into a monthly celebration to raise money for nonprofit organizations, promote the arts, and reach out to the community. All good stuff. Today, I'd define PPV as an arts movement, and it's been a big part of the local arts reniassance (as Jan Seale has described it!) that began kicking up the dust in, oh, maybe 2007. I've been honored to have been with this reading series since its not-so-humble beginnings, and have grown and stuck with it ever sense. PPV even did a fundraiser for Mouthfeel Press, back in 2012! Anyway, I think what's most signifncant is that, although the reading series has grown and change...

Katie! And Rice. Courtesy Garcia-Spitz So I'm just going to come out and admit it: I have a totally professional and writerly crush on David Rice. I had the pleasure of attending one of his readings last month as a part of UTPA's Festiba. Man-oh-man. Phew. It was awesome. Packed room. And he was so inspiring! You see, I used to teach Rice's books back when I was working with the Upward Bound program, and my students loved his work because they could relate to it. And I loved his work, too. His stories are the kind that stick with you. Anyway, I stumbled into the reading a few minutes late, and was surprised at how packed the room was.  Packed! I actually didn't know Rice was reading. I was there to support one of our department's T.As and another colleague Robert, who were also reading. I peeked my head in, then started out. A man stood up, beckoned me back, and gave up his seat to me. I reluctantly accepted and squished my way into the crowded room. I'm...

So... the conventional writerly wisdom is to not read your reviews. I ignored this advice. Last Thursday, my local newspaper, the Monitor, ran a super review of The Garden Uprooted (alongside a review of Brenda Nettles Riojas' La Primera Voz Que Oi ). I knew the review was going to run, and I had been thinking about it since their reviewer, David Bowles, asked me for a review copy. It was a little agonizing. Come Thursday morning, I was on my way to work and of course, the review was on my mind. I was obsessing. I ended up buying a copy along the way, before my first class even began. I opened it up, scanned through the paper, and there it was, the review. I think David hits my book spot on, calling my book " a rich hybrid verse." That's exactly right, both in content and form. I love it. Truth be told, I'm a little self-conscious about The Garden Uprooted . I know, I know, I shouldn't admit that in public but here I am, admitting it. I mean, I'm...

A new logo! I both love and hate this month. I love it because poetry is, once again, a part of our national conversation (or at least more of one than it usually is). I love it because my facebook feed is filled with poets who are talking about their work, encouraging each other, arguing about poetry. I love it because people argue whether or not poetry is dead, when in fact, we all know it's not. I love this month because of NaPoWriMo. I love it because of the public readings. I love it because at the end of the month comes the grand-daddy event of them all, the Valley International Poetry Festival, which I always see as an opportunity to meet poets, learn something new, travel the valley, showcase my year's worth of work, get inspired. I also hate national poetry month. I always intend to do great things and end up feeling insignificant, not serious enough, stupid, uninspired, the like. Case in point, this year, I fully intended to do NaPoWriMo, but on April 1st, I ...

Not an empty seat at Hinovations last night! I'm coming off my workshop high, well, that and a slight hangover from cheap Goddess wine :) Last night went amazingly well, better than I could have dreamed of, in fact.  I guess I'll start from the very beginning, as stories oft go. It was maybe two months ago; Rachel Vela, founder of a local poetry reading series affectionately called We Need Words, sent me a message on facebook. "What do you think of leading a workshop?" she asked. I jumped on it. Of course! Yes, I was a little nervous, but it was an opportunity to get out of my comfort zone, to give back to the community, and to maybe grow as a writer myself. I agreed to do it. Rachel would organize and publicize; all I had to do was lead. Fair enough. I decided to teach what I know best -- the writing of revisionist myths. It was, after all, what I wrote my thesis about, and it's how I frame a lot of what I write within poetic discourse. I wanted to e...

So I promised to come back and blog on my experience presenting at NACCS Tejas Foco. I'm back to do just that. On Saturday morning, I was giddy and nervous. I had prepared some "remarks" about my poems, but as I sat in my car, sweaty palmed, I read them and rolled my eyes. Too academic. I''m too academic. That's my problem. I want to stick my nasty theory into everything. Ugh. I crumpled up said theoretical remarks and tossed them into the pile of trash that exists in my backseat. Sometimes, the best remarks come straight from ones... well, you can figure out how this goes. Our panel was in the MAGC building, pretty separate from the rest of the conference. It was on the second floor, at the end of a dark hallway. I'm feeling less enthused about this whole prospect. A toxic mixture of my ugly ego and my pessimism well up. Ugh. This is going to suck. I'm going to be reading my poems to.. myself and two other panelists. The room was empty. The li...

Ahh... I'm coming off an academic high right now. NACCS 2013 is officially in the books. It was a really great time. Lucky for me, this year, it was at my home institution, UTPA, which meant I was able to take advantage and participate without having to disrupt my teaching!  My first experience with NACCs this year was probably the best. I was in my classroom yesterday afternoon, erasing the board, cleaning up after my lecture. I'm holding a conversation with a student about her research question while straightening up. Offhanded, I mention that I'm on my way to the conference festivities, and suggest that she take a looksie at one of the panels related to her research on bilingual education. "Miss..." she says, a smile on her face, "is that the Chicana conference?" I nod, a little surprised. "I went to a panel yesterday about grad school," she continues. Grad school? Now, this kiddo of mine is pretty spectacular. This is the...