We are very happy to be moving along in the world of publishing as an indie press and trying our best to keep our voice alive and well during the pandemic. Many of our authors decided to delay their book launches during the onset of COVID-19 a year ago. We have a slew of books coming out this springâand what a great list! Â Click the link below to find out more!
At GWP, we celebrate International Womenâs Day by sharing with you some photos of women authors, who are strong, resilient, and who are advocating their dreams, their freedom, and their place in the world. For so much that women have already achieved in terms of gender equality, there is so much more still to do.
Top, left to right: Cassie Fancher, Sharyn Skeeter, Sarina Prabasi and daughters from a few years ago), Irene Skyriver, Madeleine Kunin
Middle row, left to right: Shabnam Samuel, Dana Simson, Christine Marie Eberle, Leslie Rivver, Keema Â Waterfield, Megan Baxter
Dr. M Â Jackson in Nat. Geo photo, middle right
Botton row, left to right: T Stores, Raquel Vasquez Gilliland, Jaime Scanlon and Ellen Tumavicus, Ha Kiet Chau, and (top) Shifra Malk with (bottom) Charity Gingerich
We have some exciting books by women coming out this spring and early summer!
FARM GIRL by MEGAN BAXTER
ELEVEN MILES TO JUNE by HA KIET CHAU
INSIDE PASSAGE by KEEMA WATERFIELD
RED KITE, BLUE SKY poems by MADELEINE KUNIN
Check our our Bookshop.org affiliate page to see more upcoming titles. . .Â
Thanks for the support and Â our amazing women writers!
The Quebec Writers’ Federation Awards are a series of Canadian literary awards, presented annually by the Quebec Writers’ Federation to the best works of literature in English by writers from Quebec. The A. M. Klein Prize for Poetry is one of seven categories in the annual awards.
CONGRATS to GWP poet, Sarah Wolfson!
The poems in A Common Name for Everything build idiosyncratic worlds around the themes of nature, home, parenting, and namingâworlds that are at once poignant and absurd: a professional namer of lakes explains his standards; the rural gods are given names; a study of sheep results in loneliness. Steeped in sound play and borrowing academic language to create a specimen lens, these poems bask in the local as they seek to name even the commonest earthly things.
Advance Praise for A Common Name for Everything
âIn her stunning first book of poems, Sarah Wolfson drives a team of spirited horses into rural landscapes, many of which she interiorizes figuratively in ways that are wonderfully strange. In one keenly intelligent, musical poem after another, Wolfson instills her lyrical narratives about motherhood, environmental crisis, the inherent elegy of words, natural history, and poetry itself with chthonic imagery, risible asides, empirical logic, and academic nomenclature. For her, poetry itself is âthe common name of everything,â and from her âplaceâ she serves her reader âsoup and small/ theories of holinessâ in evocatively specific, sublime ways. By writing from the ground and body up, Wolfson surprises herself first and then her reader with language that soars with verbal music . . . A Common Name for Everything marks the debut of an enormously talented, wise, and timely new voice. â
âChard deNiord, Poet Laureate of Vermont
âInÂ A Common Name for EverythingÂ Sarah Wolfson demonstrates, again and again, an entirely uncommon talent for precise and defamiliarizing observation. At times declarative and deceptively plain, and at others more fractured and gestural, the poems in this formidable first collection are informed by a lyric sensibility that is authentic, playful, and unflinchingly direct.â
âPhillip Crymble, Poetry Editor atÂ The Fiddlehead; author ofÂ Not Even LaughterÂ
âI canât remember when I last read a book of poems that provided such varied pleasures . . . But the gorgeous surfaces of Sarah Wolfsonâs workâthe poetâs intelligence and curiosityÂ and witâare not ends in themselves, but a way to get at what seems essential in the self and the world. So we learn the poet is skeptical of god âthough not of souls,â become acquainted with a daughterâs âneed to wonder,â and waken with the poet to marvel at August âwith its great star events.âÂ In short,Â A Common Name for EverythingÂ is anything but common.Â Iâm already eager to hear more from this poet, to be swept away again.â
âClare Rossini, author of Lingo and Winter Morning with Crow
“. . . Humane and full of wonder even as it resists all that is inflated by romanticism, A Common Name for Everythingâs insistence on Earthâs ordinary orderings doesnât efface the deep reverence the speaker has for the same. If thereâs a divine in Wolfsonâs world, itâs this world itself and all thatâs passing through it. In her poemsâ radical adjustment of scale back to something earthly and earthy, thereâs more than enough.” âLetitia Montgomery-Rodgers, review excerpt from Orion
About the Author
Sarah Wolfsonâs poems have appeared in Canadian and American journals including The Fiddlehead, AGNI, Michigan Quarterly Review, PRISM international, and TriQuarterlyâand they have twice been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. She holds an MFA from the University of Michigan. Originally from Vermont, she now lives in Montreal, where she teaches at McGill University.
Good news can be hard to come by these days, but if you’re an emerging poet â or eager to emerge â here’s a welcome opportunity: The Johnson-based Sundog Poetry Center has just announced a brand-new First or Second Book Award for poetry. And there’s a reason for that slightly awkward-sounding name.
“Sometimes a first book is heavily collaborative,” explains Neil Shepard, a veteran poet, the founder of Green Mountains Review and a Sundog board member. “The second is usually post-MFA â really the first book. That’s still relatively an emerging poet.”
In other words, writers who vie for this award might already have an extant book or chapbook, or they might just have a bursting-with-promise manuscript. Either way, the winning entry will be designed, printed and distributed by Sundog collaborator Green Writers Press in Brattleboro.
Tamra Higgins and Mary Jane Dickerson founded Sundog in 2014 with the mission to “promote poetry for the enrichment of our cultural lives,” according to its website. The nonprofit has fulfilled that promise with publications, workshops, retreats, readings and other events. For the most part, Shepard points out, these ventures have featured established poets. For example, when Sundog began collaborating with Green Writers Press, his own book Vermont Exit Ramps II was the first to be published.
But, after Sundog and the press released the 2019 volume Vermont Poets and Their Craft, edited by Shepard and Higgins, “we decided to do something for emerging poets,” Shepard says.
The competition is open only to Vermonters, defined as residents of the state a minimum of six months of the year. The submission deadline is October 31 and must include proof of residency and a $20 application fee. Manuscripts should be 48 to 64 pages long.
Shepard notes that he and other board members â Dickerson, former Vermont poet laureate Chard DeNiord, Rebecca Starks and Bill Drislane â and managing director Sarah Audsley will “each choose two or three manuscripts by the end of November and send them to our final judge, Mary Ruefle.” Vermont’s current poet laureate, Ruefle will make her decision by December 31. The winner will receive $500 and 50 copies of the published book.
Eyes on the prize, poets.
The final judge is Vermont Poet Laureate, and award-winning poet, Mary Ruefle.Â
This contest is open to all Vermont-based poets. Submissions of manuscripts of a first or second book, by a Vermont poet, will open on September 1st and close on October 31st, 2020. A cash prize of $500 will be awarded along with 50 copies. Sundog Poetry will provide assistance with promotion through a featured book launch and readings scheduled throughout the state. Manuscripts should be between 48 and 64 pages. All submissions must be authored by a poet who resides in Vermont; proof of residency will be requested along with a $20 application fee online via Submittable.
Submissions open September 1, 2020 and close at midnight on October 31, 2020
In related news, Sundog/Green Writers Press-affiliated poet Stephen Cramer has launched the recently published Turn It Up! Music in Poetry From Jazz to Hip-Hop.
ORIGINALLY FROM SEVEN DAYS ARTICLE.
Assembling this anthology of poems about kindness and connection was a work almost entirely of intuition. I somehow just knew that I wanted to arrange the poems alphabetically, and quite early on, I had a sense that I wanted to begin the book with Ellery Akersâs ‘The Word That Is a Prayer,’ about the use of the word Please, and that I wanted to end the anthology with Miller Williamsâs shorter piece, ‘Compassion,’ which seemed to encompass exactly whatÂ Healing the DivideÂ was trying to sayâthat itâs best to be kind and compassionate to others, since we have no idea what unseen battles they might still be fighting deep inside. Even though the poems were arranged alphabetically, however, I do feel thereâs a rhythm to the book, and each poem feeds fairly logically into the next. As with my own creative work, Iâm always trying to achieve a kind of narrative and flow, and how I go about this is not entirely explainable, but readers do seem to pick up on it.â from an interview with James by Nicholas Jamesthat appeared in our literary magazineÂ The Hopper
GWP encourages our writers, artists, freelance staff, readers, and interns to send us their writing so we can put it out on our blog and publish it there for all the world to see (and our legions of followers!) Here is a powerful poem by GWP author, Irene Skyriver:
(I named this poem after one of the few modern movements that made sense to me)
What will we do for the love of our Mother Earth?
I say it is not the time for silent retreats and meditations
Did, or do the victims of:
The Klu Klux Klan
Did they have time to meditate on ensuing chaos or demise?
Did they have time to understand
Just before they were swinging from the limb of a tree?
Or just before their children were gunned-down or forced to cross barren deserts
Did they have time to contemplate
those âleadersâ, or soldiers, or white supremacists
as perhaps being their miss-guided but lovable brothers?
Our Earth Mother is Black, she is Wounded Knee, she is a child gunned down in Viet Nam
She is a rape victim
Now is not the time to tread gently or to tippy toe
Now is not the time to try to understand the Hitlerâs or the orange ones of our species
We need to be as unapologetic and powerful as the Earth herself
We need to be as relentless as the grind of a glacier
We need to be an earthquake to tumble the fortresses of greed
We need hurricane force winds of change
We need to be flooded with purpose
We need to be like the blaze of an incoming comet to turn this tide of suicide
We will recharge in the serenity of the Sunâs dip and rise
We will carry on with the knowing that others are dying for rhinos, elephants, butterflies, treesâŠ
And by knowing there is too little time for meditation and silent retreats Â
Irene Skyriver, Pacific NW Coast author/grandmother/farmer/activist
Because of the good life I live on my farm in the San Juan Islands, I must convince myself as much asÂ anyone, to leave the comforts of our homes, families and life as we know it, to RIZE UP and fight for theÂ Earth and Sky. Even our children know, we humans have our heads in the sand, as we blithely carry on inÂ our consumptive, unsustainable lifestyles, leaving them to the wreckage of our defeatist inaction.
Although I am not a hardcore activist, Iâve taken action at important events and Iâm readying myself forÂ deeper involvement in our local environmental issues (which are profound) as we prepare to fight hugeÂ increases of Canadian tar-sand tanker shipments through our already decimated Salish Seas. With ourÂ local Orca whale population on the brink of extinction and salmon runs failing catastrophically, I see myÂ life as a grandmother, best spent fighting, and dying if needed, for the dream that perhaps a seaÂ swelling of hearts and minds will awaken and turn the tide. We need to step out of our comfort zonesÂ and fight for the environmental health of every biome of this planet and sky. âą
You can order Irene’s book at your favorite, local independent bookstore, or here at Indieboud!
For our series “A Poem a Day,” we are honored to publish a sequence of poems from the editor of our climate change anthology, So Little Time: Words and Images for a World in Climate Crisis, Greg Delanty. About his upcoming poetry collection No More Time (due from LSU Press next August/September) where this sequence is taken from:
Â No More Time as a whole, is showing, at the start of the 21st century, how we are all connected in so many ways.Â The sequence âThe Field Guide to Peopleâ is arranged alphabetically and is a kind of integrated earthly heaven (thriving flora and fauna), purgatory (declining flora and fauna) and hell (extinct flora and fauna). The decline of the creatures and plants of the latter two is due in every case mainly to humans. The form of the poems in this sequence is the terza rimasonnet, both poems of the underworld and love poems to the natural world, connecting the past with the present in form and content. Since one of the greatest poems to portray humans in the Christian world is Danteâs underworld, Delanty has created a representative underworld for plants and creatures, rectifying the general centuries-old western attitude that humans are not apart, but part of the environment.
As a chimp, usually the adult male,
approaches and the roar of the
water booms louder, you see him,
speed up. His demeanor starts to
alter, hair bristling. Arriving at the
he stands, sways from one foot to the other,
bows, genuflects. Answering some call,
he dips his hand as if in holy water, splashes
himself along the tassel border of the silk
climbs the bell ropes of draping vines,
lashes his body to several, takes flight
over the deafening water as it crashes.
He swings like a thurible above that veil of
white; the spray is the incense of the
monkeyâs water rite.
Sometimes you see something so
dreadful that the mindÂ snaps a shot
or shoots a video of the scenario,
lasers it into your retina onÂ the spot,Â
impaled in you for as long as you live:
Â a teacher thrashing a pupil â a crying tot â
or the elephant Dan and I saw given a
sedative so she could rest, sleep, that time
in Dublin Zoo. The aged female was
trapped in a repetitive
back and forth on her haunches,
unable to stop herself, a tormented
beast of Orcus.
Her attendant explained, feeding her bamboo,
âTwas her one way to move, trapped in the van of a circus
so long. Rescuing her was our onus and bittersweet bonus.â
I feel like a student in my Environment
101, crushed by daily news: creatures
going or gone, the changing climate, the
planet under the gun.
In teacher mode I tell them: âFor yourselves you
press on, your own wellbeing. Youâre entitled to be
Action makes life fun. Good news: the CafĂ© Marron
and sage grouse are savedâ. I say nothing of the scurfpea,
Orbexilum stipulatum? Its modest flower
blending with white-bearded cascades. A
or more and not a single sighting along the
river at Rock Island. It relied too much on
the bison. You know how one thing depends
with the jowled ones diminished, so went this
âun; finally condemned with the building of US
In January 2000, the Pyrenean ibex (Spanish common name âbucardoâ)
became extinct. Scientists cloned DNA from a last female.
In the end, no cliff or impossible
crag could save them from
plantation or gun. Their heads hang
on walls. Hunters brag.
Many were taken down for sheer fun.
The king pucks — their antler plumes
rising magisterially — plugged one by none.
Gone the clash of horn scimitars,
grooms battling to mate, the
bucardo of lore.
White-coated gods in lab rooms
summoned one back from the dark shore
of the underworld. They should have
known from the ancient myths what was
She returned after seven minutes, lone
clone, relieved to be back among the herds
of her own.
Â Jellyfish Tree
Imagine a place, a zone, an
underworld which includes more
than our own kind:
the green and moving ones: ferns with curled
violin necks, gloaming players who
grind their wings together. And listen,
the music, the strain of this bird
lingers in the wind.
What flute-like notes, what warbling, what
a lick of trills and whistles. Can you hear
Heard melodies are sometimes sweeter. A trick
of the breeze, zephyr? Things went
wrong with land clearing. Hurricane
season intensified, uprooted trees, and
mosquitoes multiplied in rain-storm
stagnation. The song: a figment of my
Northern Gastric Frog
This creatureâs extinction is attributable to the human introduction
of pathogenic fungi into their native range.
This one was a bit of an artist,
especially the female, so oddly
At home in backwater rocky
cascades and riffles. Hard to
find, to spot even when
Its stone-hued skin and sepia behind
blending in. After the female
laid eggs, in vitro fertilized by her
groom, she swallowed them whole,
turned her stomach into a burgeoning
womb. Six weeks later she gave birth
and out of her own mouth. No more room
for lungs, she breathed through her own skin,Â
spewed up her mites, each wearing a clown-
Something to behold, how this crop
succeeds in such diverse moraine. Best
of all, see row after row descend
gradually from the gods
down mountainsides to the valleys
below, tiers of a great amphitheater,
their heads craning to watch the show:
the traffic, rickshaws, the general
theater of our priceless world. On the
slow train to Kandy I was a passing
watched locals kneeling to the god of
rain, lay offerings to the assisting
oxen and ant, petition the god of rice
for healthy grain.
I wanted to join them, genuflect, pray, chant
praise to the plant thatâs half the worldâs
This chimeric beast, part zebra, part donkey,
âits name the phantom sound
of its supposed callâenjoyed the society
of ostrich and gnu, foraged remote grassland.
So comically mythical: the striped head
a kind of convictâs shirt, each band
fading until mid-body it bled
into a rufus rear, and on to a white tail.
(the last sad male to be found was bred
with a flummoxed horse, producing a female
striped in reverse, from waist to rear).
Itâs as if a circus clown ran out of a final pail
of white paint. The only photoâd quagga, a mare,Â
stares back from behind bars with an accusing glare.
The corpse flower, a flower straight out of hell
on earth, not one to give your wife or mother
come Valentineâs Day, or wear on your lapel.
Though the sight of this particular
flowerâs measled, fleshy-skinned,
monstrous petal wouldnât help you
any, what overpowers
is the stench of rotting flesh and organs:
Chanel de Cadaver, Bouquet Putrid,
Essence de Carcass, Versense Pew, Allure Impossible,
luring every bug in the vicinity to the
reek, unable to resist entering the
of this hotty, and presto, another sprouts in a week.
Meanwhile, the forests of Sumatra and
Borneo are being cleared. Ergo the corpse
Saint Helenaâs Olive
Far-fetched that plants feel pain,
but thereâs evidence, the experts
say they can learn, process and
that theyâve intelligence in some
way. This oneâs had it: St.
As soon as people settled to stay,
spread, this plant gave up the will toÂ survive.
Natural. But natural also that planters cut
all before them, needing somewhere to live,
to settle themselves. Too lateÂ
by the time anybody got it together,Â
grappled to keep the native alive, bust a
The seeds of this tree refused to flower,
their act of civil disobedience, flower
Tarantula Hawk Wasp
Give us a break, man, you with your
inventory of whales crooning to one
the society of bees, the scratched history
of bears, elephants mourning a dead
mother, the varying duet of the
the Saint Helena olivesâ flower power.
You elect them denizens of a kind of
Paradiso. But consider the likes of a
the Tarantula Hawk, straight out of the Inferno.
This one would make Hannibal Lecter gasp.
The waspâs sting turns the tarantula into a
zombie, drugs and drags the spider off in its
lays an egg in the spiderâs belly; the larva
methodically eats the host alive; more natureâs
norm than oddity.
You never saw anything like this
bird, black from coif to claw, with
looks to kill
(though ungainly in flight). But, whatâs absurd
isnât so much the unusual
hairstyle, which is less like a
manâs umbrella than an Elvis
quiff, driving many a girl
out of her tree, screeching for her fella,
nor is it his Elvis song, the testosterone
bass crooning longingly for his Priscilla.
But the instrument, and not just that, but the
place it arises from, his throat, a back-to-f
that opens into a feather duster when he plays
his well-endowed come-on, larger in the male,
a kind of didgeridoo, moaning, enticing the female.
The VoilĂĄ Grouse
âIâm pleased that we collectively continue to make great progress
on addressing threats to this bird, conserving the sagebrush habitat
and providing a path forward for sustainable economic development.â
âUS Secretary of the Interior, Sally Jewell, Sep 21st, 2016
You should see their fancy
costumes: white ruffs, spectacular
fanned tails. And o-la-la, watch the
strut their stuff, the puffed-up lek males
performing their version of a pole dance,
tucking in their bills, vying for the
eyeing up their prospects, their chance
of a future. The future has some hope
now, thanks to Secretary Jewell taking
The grouse is saved, the end of a protracted
row. The whole sage-swaying sea is singing
Hallelujah, along with the elk, pronghorn,
mule deer, sparrow.
Good news for all sheltered under this
umbrella, been blown inside out. Folks
spoke up and voilĂ !
The old gods are defunct, but not the old
necessity to give thanks. This god spread
from the Levant forgotten religions ago,
He is goodness incarnate, the Midas
plant without the Midas curse, t
urning a field
into plains of swaying gold. He is our constant
from dawn to dawn, strength
concealed within burnished stalks
of energy, grounded goodness
This great shape-changer: the deity
of cereal, pasta, bread, the English
taco has more lives than Buddha. We
become him, where he grows we
grow, rising each morning,
Surely there are others in your life who
make you feel worthwhile, are a safe
haven. I am lucky enough to have a
And now this other, a befriending
dolphin I swam out deep again to
meet. I canât tell
even myself what I felt when I first saw the fin
slice through the surface, the swell,
then to see this undine, stock-still at my feet.
We looked each other in the eyes for well
over ten seconds (nay, millennia). Such a
sweet, kind gaze. I wonder what he made
in only my pelt and goggles. What a treat
to be allowed kiss his grinning forehead before he
undulated back across Dingle Bay, the channelâs
is the divining stick, wishbone, questionÂ
why one y rather than another why:
the yak, the y tree, the yellow-eyed penguin
or the myriad y insects who crawl
and fly we know nothing of, nor will
ever know? The links break from
alpha, beyond why.
You mention the Yaque chub, a
minnow, or Yaque catfish sporting
Chinese whiskers, both Yaques
depending on the slow flow
of Yaque River. According to Surem elders
–the last to speak Yaque, Yoeme Niki,
(And where do languages go when they die, others
on the brink?)– the Suremâs goddess, Yumululi,
speaks for The Great Tree, divines our future
The descriptions of the leopard and its habits are characterized by the widespread notion that wavyale (witches) sent them to harm villagers and were thus killed on sight. After the Zanzibar Revolution of 1964 there was a leopard-cleansing campaign which sealed the leopardâs extinction.Â
Kill Evil incatinate. Kill kill kill
the Zanzibar Leopard, this island devil,
this vampire vermin, obeying witch-will,
dispatched by the wavyaleÂ to bedevil
villages. You know the old strategy:
demonize and the demonizer will revel
in playing God, the paw of the Almighty.
This leopard survived since the ice age,
slowly shrunk itself into dwarf-cat royalty,
even changed its spots, but couldnât manage
to outwit human categorizing. Yes, it is daft,
but this catâs hardly likely to be found in cage
or ruling the night-forest now. When statecraft
bands with religion thereâs no better witchcraft.
Thereâs something off about talk of the land
as a person. Itâs more a moody personality
that you insecurely sense, project,
via the osmosis of yourself, your
to shape change, the abracadabra
matching outside to within. Take Zayante,
home of the slender gilia, Bonny Doon mazanita,Â
coast-horned lizard, band-winged grasshopper,
Ben Lomond spine flower, June beetle, ponderosa,
everlasting, kangaroo rat, all going without a
Folksâ needs, comforts, fears up the ante.
The development night by day grows grimmer.
Which ciao âhi or bye– will it be on Planet
Enough Gregorian cant. We are done. Adelante.
(This is an excerpt, modified for this post, from GWP poetry editors, Dede Cummings and James Crews’ interview with Dante Di Stefano over at Best American Poetry)
Green Writers Press is proud to offer some stunning poetry books in our catalog. We are looking for new and emerging poets that write about the earth and our place in nature and the built environment, poets who give voice to those who are marginalized in our society, and established poets who want to publish with us and enjoy the benefits of working collaboratively.Â
Green Writers signed the new poetry collection by Robert Pack, entitled All One Breath, and we are thrilled to work with such a notable American poet as Pack. We also recently published Dirt and Honey, by Rachel Vasquez Gilliland, an emerging Mexican-American poet and feminist. Another upcoming book is titled Time Inside, by Vermont poet Gary Margolis, about his work with maximum security prison inmates. Last, but not least, GWP just published A Bouquet of Daisies, by seventeen-year-old poet, Megan Alice, with proceeds benefitting the Planned Parenthood Federation.Â
We strive for a diverse chorus of poetic voices and our literary magazine, The Hopper, is doing just that. Founded in 2015 by Dede Cummings and Sierra Dickey, the Hopper also awards a poetry prize, now in its third year. Winners include John Saad in 2016, Ralph Black in 2017, and our 2018 winner, Charity Gingerich. Our poetry editors are James Crews, Anna Mullen, Ellie Rogers, Emma Irving, Dede Cummings, and Caroline Shea.
We have a bias for poetry that is accessible to as large an audience as possible, and because we are an independent press run almost entirely by women, we also believe that more female and transgender voices are needed in American poetry to give voice to those who have been kept quiet for too long. But as an environmentally-minded publisher, we hold close to Robert Bly’s idea of “shared consciousness” with the natural world â an outlook long held by Native Americans before us. This idea puts forth that elements of the natural world are just as intelligent and conscious as humans (if not more so), and perhaps the current environmental crisis would not be so dire if more people saw the world in this way. We need more American poetry that acknowledges our essential interconnectedness as a planet and as a human species. To paraphrase the Vietnamese Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh, we’d like to see more poetry that awakens us from the illusion of our separateness.
What the future holds for Green Writers Pressâ poetry program: our publisher is an award-winning poet in her own right, so we give a lot of attention to publishing and promoting our poetry catalog. To that end, you can expect to see several new collections which showcase diverse American voices, and which unflinchingly tackle the environmental crisis. Upcoming 2019 poetry collections in addition to the Hopper Prize winner, Charity Gingerich’s After JuneÂ (spring 2019), we will also be publishing Ha Kiet Chau’s collection Eleven Miles to June (fall 2019) and Sarah Wolfson’s A Common Name for Everything (fall 2019).
You can also look for anthologies that are in and of themselves forms of resistance against the prevailing fear and outrage infecting our politics and our country as a whole. For instance, we’ll be publishing an anthology edited by our poetry editor, James Crews, called Healing the Divide: Poems of Kindness and Connection, with a lovely preface by former Poet Laureate Ted Kooser.
Our Saturday (March 10th) morning AWP Reading at the Tampa Marriott Waterside Hotel was so nice! Here are a few photos of some of our fabulous authors who read: poet Raquel VasquezÂ Gilliland, fiction author T Stores (who brought her whole family!), nature writer Jim Krosschell, poet and 2017 Hopper Literary Magazine Poetry Prize Winner, Ralph Black, and South Florida poet Ellene Glenn Moore.
The AWP Conference & Book Fair pix was a wonderful time for our GWP team. Here are some more photos to share from the three-day event. Our authors took advantage of the workshops and panels, too, and we look forward to presenting at AWP-19 in Portland, Oregon!
Top row, left to right: GWP poet Ralph Black chillin’ at our table, our backyard at GWP’s Airbnb in St. Pete, editor Jenna Gersie and publisher Dede Cummings relaxing on the deck of the Tampa Convention Center (after drinks & getting some sun while our friends deal with a Nor’easter), the new cover art for Issue #3 of our literary magazine The Hopper, GWP novelist Andrew Furman with some fans, Dede with our debut Green Place Books (our newest imprint!) Melanie P. Merriman and her fabulous book on caregiving.
Bottom row, left to right: Andrew Furman celebrates his galley giveaway for his environmental novel Goldens Are Here, Dede and poet Raquel Vasquez Gilliland, Ralph and debut novelist James Hornor, Dede and HarperCollins author Sophronia Scott celebrate the poetry of GWP poet (in absentia) Richard Jarrette, GWP novelist Christine Davis Merriman (her novel At the Far End of Nowhere will be out in the fall), and last, but not least, GWP’s short fiction author, T Stores, with galleys for her collection Frost Heaves.
Exciting News:Â Green Writers Press/Green Place Books, & Green Sprouts for Kids has just accepted an offer from a German foreign rights agent for our Adult and Children’s titles exclusively for the German language market. They will also handle other international licensing deals like our current Chinese deal for an exclusive on our children’s titles.
HereÂ isÂ their website and they have offices in Frankfurt, Hamburg, and Munich!
We will definitely save up for a table in Frankfurt at the International Book Fair in October this year!
Other publishers they represent include the following: Crossroads Press, Melville House, Two Dollar Radio, and more!
~~~~~~~~~ Please note: Our Cuba Trip has been postponed to early November!Â ~~~~~~~~~
Congrats to our Vermont Book Award Nominees from Green Writers Press!
Greetings to our stalwart readers & authors, friends of our growing press! We can all agree that 2017 was a year of setbacks under the Misogynist-in-the-White-House â yet, we are hopeful and galvanized for 2018.
This recent article in the regional New Hampshire paper, The Keene Sentinel, written by GWP former Bennington College intern, Cheyenne Vaughn, is really hopeful! Happy Holidays to our friends!
Here is a sneak peek at an upcoming children’s pitcture book that is getting environmental-award accolades! Enjoy and thank you for your continued support and buying and reading our books!
GWP is a proud participant in the Bennington College Field Work internship program, which we have been doing since our inception in 2014. Our Bennington College interns are all extremely motivated young people who care about the fate of the earth and want to do everything they can to foster a sustainable environment. Our newest interns just started this January and will be with us until mid-February. Please join us in welcoming Ruby, Rachel, and Liana!
Here is a recent photo taken at their first meeting with GWP author, Tim Weed (A Field Guide to Murder & Fly Fishing, due out April 2017), at our favorite Brattleboro hangout, Mocha Joe’s.
Two brilliant poets have left the earth, but their books live on in words and images
GWP SPRING BOOKS 2017 … a few great covers to share/sneak previews …
One Manâs Maine, Essays on a Love Affair by Jim Kroschell
Walking Through the Seasons, nature essays by Marilyn Webb Neagley
Why I Ride: Because a Bike Pedal Lasts Longer Than a Gas Tank by Holly McNish and InjaÂ
Wild Play by David SobelÂ
A Field Guide to Murder and Fly Fishing, stories by Tim Weed
Horse Drawn Yogurt, Stories from Total Loss Farm by Peter Gould
Poetry (with Sundog):
Learning to See, poetry by Pamela Spiro Wagner
Roads Taken: Contemporary Vermont Poetry, edited by Sydney Lea and Chard deNiord with a Foreword by New Yorker staff writer, Dan Chaisson
Clothesline Religion, poems by Megan Buchanan
The Hopper Poetry Prize WinnersÂ with chapbooks to be published:
LongLeaf by John Saad
The Dark Edge of the Bluff by Ellene Glenn Moore
Josie Meets a Jaguar, by B.K.A.B. Bruno, illustrated by Janet Pedersen
Fall books, 2017 are being assigned right nowâŠ
They include a picture book for children entitled Salamander Sky written by Katy Farber with illustrations by Meg Sodano …. another picture book called Janey Monarch Seed by Julie Dunlap … We are also publishing a new book of poetry entitled The Long Correspondence by the late Vermont poet, Leland Kinsey, a novel entitled Wild Mountain by Nancy Kilgore, a collection of short stories by Teresa Stores called Frost Heaves, and more!
Our “Poet’s Poet” Leland Kinsey, a Tribute
BY HOWARD FRANK MOSHER
Earlier this month I lost a dear personal friend and Vermont lost its best poet since Robert Frost. Leland Kinsey of Barton, a seventh-generation Vermonter and gifted writer, teacher, naturalist, woodsman and storyteller, passed away after a long, courageous battle with cancer. Here is my tribute to Lee, who was also my fishing partner of 50 years.
For Leland Kinsey
May 2, 1950 â September 14, 2016
Leland Kinsey and I loved to fish for brook trout in the Northeast Kingdom. Not just trout. And not just anywhere. Brook trout in the Kingdom.
I suppose that there are good, trouty brooks in Orleans, Essex, and Caledonia counties that Lee and I never discovered. Not many, though. At least once a week during fishing season, for nearly half a century, Lee and I would strike out early in the morning and follow a brook miles up through cedar bogs, upland meadows, hardwoods and softwoods, to its source at an icy spring high on some Kingdom mountain.
Lee was a poet’s poet. By that I mean that he did not care one bit about renown. He cared about results, about writing powerful and beautiful poems, often about the Kingdom, where he was born and raised and lived all his adult life. Vermont State Poet Sydney Lea said it best. Leland’s poetry “chronicles the profoundest Vermont anyone might possibly know.”
It’s hard to tell for sure, but my guess is that several dozen of Lee’s poems, or major sections of them, were inspired by those fishing treks we made to the wildest and most remote corners of the Kingdom. In his sixth collection â perhaps my favorite â The Immigrant’s Contract, he recounts the life and times of a French Canadian who, as a small boy, comes to the Kingdom with his folks in a horse-drawn wagon containing all their worldly possessions. Over the next seventy-some years he worked as a horse trader, logger, timber cruiser, whiskey runner, log driver on the Vermont tributaries of the upper Connecticut River, dairy farmer, dam builder â the list goes on. On our fishing excursions we explored many of the places Lee brought to life in The Immigrant’s Contract. The Upper Jay Branch, where Lee’s Quebecois jack-of-all-trades helped build the first road over Jay Peak. The Upper Black Branch of the Nulhegan in the wilderness northeast of Island Pond.
Not to mention the wildlife we encountered, the goshawks and pileated woodpeckers, the twenty varieties of warblers and scores of woods flowers â Lee knew them all by name â the great glacial boulders brought down from the Far North 10,000 years ago, every species of tree that grows in northern Vermont. Along with family history and local work â farming, blacksmithing, lumbering, sugaring, cedar-oil distilling, welding â the natural world that we immersed ourselves in on our quests for brook trout was a constantly recurring theme of Lee’s poems.
Early on in our fishing partnership, Lee and I made a deal. If either of us ever caught a 20-inch brook trout, the other would have it mounted for him. We both figured this was a safe arrangement. One June afternoon on a swampy brook in the Victory Bog, miles from the nearest road, Lee caught a 16-inch two pounder. That was the closest either of us had come until last fall.
It was late October, after most of the leaves were down, and raining lightly. The only color along the stream we were fishing â never mind what stream or exactly where â was the rusty yellow of the tamarack trees. At the time, Lee was in between grueling treatments at Dartmouth-Hitchcock, but still very strong. Still as good in the woods as any man in the Kingdom. I couldn’t see him but somehow I always knew about where he was on a trout brook we were fishing. He knew where I was, too. From upstream, around a bend, maybe a hundred yards away, I heard him say, not loudly, “Good one.” That’s all he said but if you knew Lee, that was enough. Net in hand, I thrashed my way through the bankside alders and hurried around the bend.
There he was in the misting afternoon, standing in the water with the fly rod he’d built himself bent almost double. The hooked trout was about midway between us when it exploded from the dark water, leaping up and up and twisting like a salmon. Its fiery red belly and green back and pink side-speckles with violet halos, its big square tail, its crimson fins edged with white stood out against the low, gray sky even brighter than on a sunny day. It hit the water like a beaver smashing the surface with its tail.
I never knew a man better at playing a fish than Leland Kinsey. It was a battle royal but ten, maybe fifteen minutes later, I slipped my landing net under the big brookie and held it up, shimmering, gorgeous, for Lee to see. “You win,” I said. Who do you want to mount it for you?”
“No one,” Lee said. “Put it back in the brook where it belongs.”
I cannot say that I was greatly surprised. I removed the hook and turned the net inside out, releasing the trout. For a moment the fish hung in the tea-colored water. Then it shot off into the depths of the stream where it belonged, and Lee and I fished on into the wild heart of the Kingdom to which he belonged and of which he was, and will be for all time to come, the truest poet laureate.
Some photos of Lee for our memories . . . but his poems live on and we are honored to have been his publisher! If you want, you can listen to an interview Dede and Howard did on VPR here.
We areÂ a low-profit publisher based out of Brattleboro dedicated to telling stories that will make the world a better place. Specifically, Green Writers Press is uplifting regional and national voices that embrace the natural world and interrogate the destruction of it.
PARTNER WITH US:
GWP is an L3C or a âlow-profit limited liability companyâ which is a for-profit business that holds a charitable or educational cause as its main purpose. The business embodies our mission from our choice of printers (US printers that utilize renewable energy, forest stewardship council-certified papers, and soy-based inks) to our donation of a percentage of profits to national and Vermont-based environmental organizations.
Our vision is that collectively, our books will become a chorus of voices of writers and readers, artists and photographers, who care about the fate of the earth and want to do something about it.
If anyone knows of a non-profit 501 (c) 3 organization you think would like to partner with us as an L3C company, please tell them about us! It is tax-free for them to work with us on publications/books.
AND NOW . . . SUMMER NEWS:
Green Writers Press is growing, but we are still primarily a VOLUNTEER RUN ORGANIZATION. We could not do what we do without our dedicated cadre of freelance editors!Â Please welcome our newest freelancer/volunteer staff members.
MARGARETÂ SWEENEY, AssistantÂ EditorÂ and Publicity
Margaret Sweeney is a native of Brattleboro, Vermont and a recent graduate of Bennington College, where she studied literature and writing. While at Bennington, she interned for the literary organizations Poets House and the Center for the Art of TranslationÂ and served as co-editor-in-chief ofÂ plain china,Â the first national anthology of undergraduate student writing. She now lives in Western MassachusettsÂ and works as a part-time bookseller at Odyssey Bookshop in South Hadley.
JAMES CREWS, Â Assistant Editor
James Crews’ work has appeared inÂ Ploughshares, Raleigh Review, Crab Orchard ReviewÂ andÂ The New Republic, among other journals, and he is a regular contributor toÂ The (London) Times Literary Supplement.Â His first collection of poetry,Â The Book of What Stays, won the 2010 Prairie Schooner Book Prize and received aÂ ForewordÂ MagazineÂ Book of the Year Award. Other awards include residencies from the Sitka Center for the Arts and Caldera Arts as well as two Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Prizes. He holds an MFA in Creative Writing-Poetry from the University of Wisconsin-Madison and aÂ PhDÂ in Writing and Literature from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, where he worked for Ted Kooser’sÂ American Life in PoetryÂ newspaper column and grew to love the Great Plains. He now lives on an organic farm in Shaftsbury, Vermont just a few miles from the Robert Frost Stone House.
VISIT US AT BOOK FESTIVALS COMING UP!
Green Writers Press has a BIG presence at BOOKSTOCK-VT, one of Vermont’s premiere literary festivals. Please join us! Â http://bookstockvt.org/2016-presentations/
Left to right: Leland Kinsey (Galvanized), Sheila Post (The Road to Walden North), Cardy Raper (An American Harvest), Brett Stanciu (Hidden View), Tim Weed (forthcoming, A Field Guide to Murder and Fly Fishing), Sara Dillon (Planning for Escape), and Vermont State Poet Chard DeNiord (co-editor, with Sydney Lea, of the forthcoming Contemporary Vermont Poetry) . . . what a lineup!
Burlington Book Festival, Brattleboro Literary Festival, and more!Â
STAY TUNED FOR THE HOPPER PRIZE ANNOUNCEMENT AUGUST 1st!
Galvanized: New and Selected Poems by LelandÂ Kinsey
By David Nilsen
Galvanized, the new collection from Vermont poet Leland Kinsey, is a document of the hardship and rough-hewn beauty of living close to the land, in reach of its temper but also its embrace. Kinsey grew up on a Vermont farm, the child of a long line of such folk who clung to existence in the face of a cold north wind, working impossibly hard because to do less was to starve. These poemsâsome new, most from his seven previous books since 1991âare more closely tied to a particular place than any others Iâve read, and bring Vermont into a vivid focus, painting a landscape and a way of life I had never associated with the state.
Kinseyâs poems are beautiful but brutal pastorales, uncompromising in their depictions of the strain and heartache of living off the land. At times these poems feel like catalogs of woe, running through lists of injuries and tragedies, but they are never self-pitying, and they are never dishonest. The occasional joys of such hard lives are also given their turn, from necessary late night swims in glacial ponds to wash off the sweat and chaff after a day of baling, to summer baseball games, to barn dances to thank the neighbors for helping rebuild a burnt down farm building. Kinsey remembers sledding as a child, the near-suicidal danger of this diversion, the danger less impending than that of their farm work because it was chosen:
âWe mostly slid at night to tell
if cars were coming,
no stopping at the corner
except by ditching at forty miles and hour,
blood and fractures either way.â
â page 97
More than anything, these poems chronicle survival, an endeavor that for Kinseyâs family was often a fraught and unforgiving one, but oneÂ that laid down from time to time in the shadow of joy. There is a wry humor underlying much of this poetry, rarely spotlighted but often teasing at the edges of harder truths, a humor that undoubtedly served its own role in the familyâs endurance. In âRiding in the Open,â Kinsey recalls countless rides on top of farm loads in his youth, experiences that were sometimes fun, a chance to rest, and sometimes quite dangerous, and often both:
âI think of how we mostly could not talk,
cheeks puffed out by the force of wind,
any conversation blown back passed us,
ears wind stopped,
and of the holding on,
and in the face of the black despair
we were all prone to,
â page 96
There is a section of the book containing poems from his 2004 collectionÂ In the Rain Shadow, a series of poems he wrote during his extended visit with his cousin in Tanzania. These poems presentÂ a jarring change of landscape and culture initially, but it quickly becomes apparent to the readerâas it did to the poetâhow much there is in common betweenÂ the experienceÂ the inhabitants of this impoverished nation have had in trying to scrape a living from theÂ harsh African environmentÂ and the struggleÂ Kinseyâs own family and ancestors hadÂ in prying a living from the glacier-scoured hills of northern Vermont.
GalvanizedÂ concludes with selections from Kinseyâs most recent collection, 2014âsÂ Winter Ready. Living as close to (and off of) the land as Kinsey and his family have, many of his poems deal with the seasons, the heavensâ rationing of sunshine and rain, and the cruelties and wonders of winter, but this final section hones in on the way the calendar in a cold-weather climate bends around the gravity well of winter. Spring is about escaping it and planting as soon as the ground warms. In summer it can almost be forgotten as crops grow high and the sun beats down. But by fall, everyone knows whatâs coming. Crops are gathered, wood is chopped, repairs are made, food is laid in. Winter will spare no one who isnât ready. These poems perfectly encapsulateÂ theÂ simple clarity with which Kinsey documents the hardship of living as he and his family have, wasting little regret or resentment over the fairness of their lives. There simply isnât time for it, and nature is as unforgiving with human life as it is with animal. In one of the new poems in the book, he summarizes this while talking about a recent fishing excursion. He set two trout eggs on a rock by the river, and while he had his back turned, they were snatched up by an opportunistic gull he hadnât noticed a moment before:
âEggs, and no gull noticed,
gull, and no eggs to be seen,
no oneâs rights involved,
just, quick as that,
â Fish Eggs, page 7
I was unfamiliar with Leland Kinsey before this anthology, and I look forward to backtracking through his work in the future. He is a singular poet, deft with his words but aware his greatest asset is the strange and wondrous life heâs lived; he forefronts those experiences over flourishes of language, using his narrative skill to show us a scene, a people, and a place, and he trusts in the raw beauty and grace and pain of those details to do the work for him, which they certainly do.
Leland and many of our GWP aithors will be at BOOKSTOCK Literary Festival this summer! You can read about them here: http://bookstockvt.org/2016-presentations/
MARGARETÂ SWEENEY, Editorial Intern and Publicity
Margaret Sweeney is a native of Brattleboro, Vermont and a recent graduate of Bennington College, where she studied literature and writing. While at Bennington, she interned for the literary organizations Poets House and the Center for the Art of TranslationÂ and served as co-editor-in-chief ofÂ plain china,Â the first national anthology of undergraduate student writing. She now lives in Western MassachusettsÂ and works as a part-time bookseller at Odyssey Bookshop in South Hadley.
JESSICA JAUNDOO, Editorial Intern and Marketing
Jessica is an upcoming sophomore at Bennington College and was born and raised in Boston, MA. She has always had a lifelong interest in nature and her friends always find her trying to adopt any animal or critter into her life. With her interest in the field of Biology and the Environment still in its exploitative stages, her long term hobby has always been writing her own stories and coming up with ideas with friends. Inspiration never fails to strike her at any moment and many who know her are curious to see which book she may publish in the future.
RON ANAHAW, January-February Field Work Intern and 2016 Summer Fellow
Ron Anahaw has three things close to his heart:Â
his loved ones, writing, and Korean fried chicken. With a hand on playwriting, poetry, journalism, and fiction, he considers himself a jack-of-all-trades in writing. He is a big believer in trying to keep the world habitable. He is as quick to crack a joke as he is to ask you to collaborate. Ron is a first-year student atÂ Bennington.
KAIYA LEWIS-MARLOW, Editorial Intern
Kaiya is a first term Bennington student with a passion for literature and social change. She lives in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, and was raised with close ties to the local farm movement and community there. In her spare time, she enjoys writing speculative fiction, hiking, and making jewelry out of found mechanical objects and polymer clay.
KAITLYNÂ PLUKAS, January-February Field Work Intern and 2016 Summer Fellow
Kaitlyn is a first-year student at Bennington College with a passion for any and everything Literature oriented. She firmly believes in the power of literature; both in the way it completely transforms perceptions of the world and in the way it inspires unity amongst communities. Her many years as a Girl Scout and Gold Award recipient have inspired her to enact social and environmental change. Kaitlyn is an avid sock collector, an outdoors adventurer, and is a right-handed writer who is preferential to pens.
Here at Green Writers Press, we are busy planning our Spring Book launch set for April 24th at 3:00 PM at Next Stage Arts in Putney. We are also busy celebrating all things African-American and honoring our newest authors who write so eloquently about race and the struggle for equality. We join the Library of Congress, National Archives and Records Administration, National Endowment for the Humanities, National Gallery of Art, National Park Service, Smithsonian Institution and United States Holocaust Memorial Museum join in paying tribute to the generations of African Americans who struggled with adversity to achieve full citizenship in American society.
We’d like to tell you about a few books that we are honored to publishâone is just out this past year, and the other forthcoming in 2016!
Blackberries and Cream is the compassionate and insightful story of a young white girl balancing her love for her African-American caregiver and her depressed mother in 1960s Alabama. Full of Southern charm and subtle wisdom, this novel explores the meanings of love, family,Â and courage in a heartfelt coming-of-age tale that will resonate with children and adults alike. This novel comes at a poignant moment in our society when racial prejudices still linger and the challenges to diversity in children’s literature remain difficult to confront. Blackberries and Cream is perfectly suited to help cultivate awareness about these issues, inspiring meaningful reflection and discussion in young readers. It is 210 pages long and can be considered childrenâs fiction (middle grade to young adult readers) and historical fiction. We are hoping readers will spread the word.Â
This photo is from twenty years ago, of the author Leslie Rivver and her caregiver Ida Bell, who are the main characters in this semi-autobiographical novel we are promoting during Black History Month.Â âȘ#âBlackHistoryMonthâŹ
âBrimming with wisdom and mischief, this tender, heartfelt celebration of an abiding friendship between a white girl and her black caregiver in 1960s Alabama reminds us that the love we experience in childhood has the power to sustain us through a lifetime of change.â
âIrene Latham, author ofÂ Leaving Geeâs Bend
We are also thrilled to announce the upcoming story collection byÂ Clarence Major. Chicago Heat and Other StoriesÂ employs a gorgeous purity and simplicity of language in a series of masterful analyses examining human interaction. Each narrative voice comes forward all at once, individual and complete, without obstacle or complication, enabling the reader to see the characters and feel their emotions. Major does not shy away from the bitter or the harsh; we get to hear it all. Like paint on an easel he blends lyricality with moxie and the blunt with the beautiful. The characters come together as easily as they part; people leaving, coming back, going, stayingâit all sticks and fades like heat on your skin. The imagery is completely accessible and generously given. Toni Morrison comes to mind. His work is like jewels.
Clarence Major’s list of works and achievements is an impressive one. From awards like the Pushcart Prize and National Book AwardÂ to fellowships like the Fulbright Fellowship and National Council for the Arts Fellowship, Clarence Major has established himself as a prominent literary figure. Having written more than eight novels, includingÂ My AmputationsÂ andÂ Dirty Bird Blues,Â alongside a dozen books of poetry,Â Chicago Heat and Other StoriesÂ is only his second work of short fiction and first book with Green Writers Press.
CLARENCE MAJOR is a prizewinning short story writer, novelist, poet and painter. As a finalist for the National Book Award he won a Bronze Medal for his bookÂ Configurations: New and Selected Poems 1958-1998. Â Major was a finalist for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize, The Bay Area Book Reviewers Book Award and The Prix Maurice Coindreau in France. He is the recipient of The Western States Book Award, The National Council on The Arts Award, a New York Cultural Foundation Award, The Stephen Henderson Poetry Award for Outstanding Achievement (African-American Literature and Culture Society of The American Literature Association), the Sister Circle Book Award, two Pushcart prizes, the International Literary Hall of Fame Award (Chicago State University), the 2015 Lifetime Achievement Award in the Fine Arts, presented by the Congressional Black Caucus Foundation, and other awards. He is Distinguished Professor Emeritus at the University of California at Davis.
PRAISE FOR THE WORK OF CLARENCE MAJOR
âClarence Major has a remarkable mind and the talent to match.âÂ Â Â Â âToni Morrison
âA pioneer on the cutting edge of contemporary fiction.â âCharles Johnson
â[Majorâs] language is both lyric and precise.Â His vision is both humorous . . . and serious.
His story is our own.â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â âNational Book Award Finalist/citation forÂ Configurations
âClarence MajorâsâŠ gathering of short stories has extraordinary technical and emotional force, that pushes the form to its contemporary limits without losing contact with its sources in legend, tall-tale,Â conte, yarnâŠMajorâŠproves that he is one of only a handful of American writers capable of doing significant work in more than one genre.â âRussell Banks
Thanks for helping us spread the word about our growing press, especially the authors that help all of us celebrate our freedom and social justice, and foster increased awareness in environmental sustainability. Here is an eloquent quote from Clarence Major in support of our work at the press:
One of the most pressing issues for all of humanity is the environment, namely climate change.Â I would like to support efforts to bring about awareness of the problem. We are running out of time. âClarence Major
Green Writers Press: Giving Voice to Writers & Artists Who Will Make the World a Better Place
|Our fall booksÂ include Polly and the One and Only World, Love in the Time of Climate Change, Josie and the Fourth Grade Bike Brigade and Contemporary Vermont Fiction.We are so proud of our books.Â Please come join us November 9th at Next Stage in Putney, VT for a party to celebrate Contemporary Vermont Fiction with a reading and live music! If you’d like to contribute to that book to help Robin and Dede with expenses, Robin has created a beautifulÂ Indiegogo campaignâŠ The video alone is worth a quick look:Â www.indiegogo.com/projects/contemporary-vermont-fiction-an-anthology||We have had an amazing year here at GWP: The fact that our mission resonates with so many readers of good books is evident wherever we go and via the emails and letters we receive. From the Nantucket Book Festival to Bookstock in Woodstock, VT the Brattleboro Literary Festival and the Northern Woodlands Writers’ Conference, our authors are out there reading, signing books and lending their unique voices to the environmental movement. Many of us were at the Climate March in NYC, too, and we know that there is tremendous momentum in the world to create change! Our press is growing. Thanks for sharing!EVENTS:Â Brian Adams Book Tour;Â Don Bredes too! . . .Â Stay tuned for our 2015 Spring List!|
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|Photos by Dede Cummings
Top: View from the office
Left: GWP poet, Leland Kinsey.Sign up for our monthly news by filling in the form at right! We will keep your email private!Â
Things at GWP are in full summer bloom, along with the heirloom yellow lilies given to Dede and Robin by Howard Frank Mosherâactually, I should say stolen yellow lilies, for Howard, his wife, Phyllis, and a local woman, now deceased (who was a Kingdom legend and most likely in one of Howard’s stories), snuck over to an abandoned farmhouse and dug up quite a pike if bulbs last fall. Howard brought them down to us as a gift at our inaugural publishing launch!
It is an exciting time for GWP! Our new press is growing rapidly, but we need your support. Please visit ourÂ donation pageÂ if you’d like to donate. Here is some news to share!
So Little Time had its inaugural reading at St. Michael’s College in Colchester, Vermont, on January 30th. Here is a gallery of photos of the various poets who read from Gloria Seidler, wife of poet Ralph Culver and aÂ nature photographer as well as a holistic healer. Gloria donated these great photos to us as GWP!
Poem by Ilya Kaminsky
To your voice, a mysterious virtue,
to the 53 bones of one foot, the four dimensions of breathing,
to pine, redwood, sworn fern, peppermint,
to hyacinth and bluebell lily,
to the train conductor’s donkey on a rope,
to smells of lemons, a boy pissing splendidly against the trees.
Bless each thing on earth until it sickens,
until each ungovernable heart admits: “I confused myself
and yet I loved â and what I loved
I forgot, and what I forgot brought glory to my travels,
to you I traveled as close as I dared, Lord.”
Reprinted courtesy of the author and The Academy of American Poets website www.poets.orgÂ
A busy time of year you ask? Â
. . . it is, but we are pretty excited here at GWP, with the launch of So Little Time: Words and Images for a World in Climate Crisis.Â The book just grew, and grew, at the end we added new poems and things got moved around, and the book emerged better and more beautiful than I could have imagined!
Edited by Green Writers Press managing editor, Dede Cummings,Â with a Foreword from John Elder, and poems that feature the work of Greg Delanty,Â along with quotes from such environmentalists, as BIll McKibben,Â So Little TimeÂ is an interactive and interpretive book that will inspire, enrich, and a call to action in an urgent plea to stop global warming.
OUR Green Writers Press PUBLISHING LAUNCH PARTY, WITH LIVE MUSIC (from “Red Heart The Ticker,” CAKE, AND AFTER PARTY, WAS HELD FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 1ST, AND WAS A HUGE SUCCESS. Thanks to all who came out! We are on our way . . .
Please help us make the dream a reality: Our Fundraising campaign ends IN JUST 2 DAYSâNovember 7th. Â Thanks for sharing & contributing!
Here’s the link:Â http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/green-writers-press
Here are some photos from the party/readings . . . Enjoy and if you can, share this link or the Indiegogo page. WE need to push hard in the next few days, and need everyone’s help! ~ Dede
Dede writes: I’ve worked on some book trailers before, for some of my author/clients in the publishing business, most notably for David Blistein and his book, David’s Inferno. For that book trailer, I got to go to help set it up and work on the story board, and attend the filming, which was at Ken Burns’ Florentine Films in New Hampshire (not far from where I live in Brattleboro).
It was “wicked” exciting to be there, hanging out with one of my heroes, well, Dave, my client, but KEN BURNS! I think Ken’s work is brilliant….. so, in any event, I was suitably inspired last night when I went to hear Ken give a talk and presentation for his new PBS series, The Roosevelts. In fact, I was so inspired, I went home and made this video so that we can raise tons of money and pay our printing bill for The Bird Book, So Little Time, and The Beavers of Popple’s Pond… If we raise even half of our $20,000 goal, we will be in good shape, so I am hoping for $10,000.Â Maybe, just maybe, this little earnest filmâwith my son, Sam Carmichael, playing an original composition on the guitar….will bring us there!
Here it is, and tell us what you think? I already got feedback on the bad sound quality đ Going to try to fix that or rerecord… Please share! We will list your name on our site as supporter if you donate, too! Our big party is November 1st, Putney, Vermont at Next Stage Arts Project!
I feel like a mother about to have a babyâthe excitement, the collaboration between publisher-printer-artist-writerâis everything I dreamed about when I started this publishing company! I want to thank the many supporters along the way, especially the people who don’t think I am crazy, and have celebrated the idea of a publisher working in harmony with the earth’s resources.
Page to Performance, a poetry organization based in Cambridge, UK and led by Hollie McNish and Inja, worked with a group of amazing young people for three months in summer, 2013, to find out what it is they all love about riding.