Elle Shaman Fashion x Angela EJ Koh Poetry Collaboration
Michelle Kim, a notable photographer in Orange County, California, approached me with a pitch: she had a full team with makeup artist Robyn Renee, renown model Maddy, stylist Amber, and graphic designer Ruthi Auda. She needed a poet to complete her pièce de 2012: a creative and modern fashion spread.
I shuffled through dusty folders and Michelle pointed out one of my oldest, unpublished works, “Shaman.” It was hastily jot down in the back of a scrapbook in two different handwriting. One was mine and the other was that of my first poet professor and mentor Susan E. Davis. The words were my own, but the pacing and grace could only come from someone like her. I had written the lines on separate pages; she had weaved them together. Somehow, the poem became a fusion of the both of us. Even when I read it now, I can hear her reading it to me out loud. “It’s your poem,” she said but I always felt it was ours. “Shaman” particularly carries much meaning and I’m thankful that Michelle gave me this opportunity to display it in her fashion spread–so the poem could finally show itself to the world.
Shaman
by Angela EJ Koh
for Susan Davis
If you want to take up space,
first see how small you are
like rocks, honeycombs, and charcoal,
anchoring, feeding, heating.
In the sky, the clouds get
combed like rabbit fur.
If I remember this, I am
learning. You place a flowered
twig behind my ear. It is
a mark of my learning
you—of the blue bell. A person
small like me, but higher.
(see full fashion spread below)
Ellipse Productions x Angela EJ Koh present: FRUI
banner by Angela Koh and Cheikh Clark
Ellipse Productions has worked with the Orange Country Fashion Show, OC Korean Cultural Center, and other communities based in California. I was floored when they approached me about conceptualizing my poem, “Frui.” We sat in Panera and attempted the challenge of turning an 8-lined poem into a short film while making it as emotionally dense and accessible as possible. The adaptation of poetry into film in a cross-media collaboration is still a largely unestablished genre and it was an honor to try and contribute. Finally, I wanted Ellipse to have the reigns to experiment and share their own creative vision as well. Though it’s a first-timer, I hope we can continue to improve and grow from your feedback and support!
Frui
Bret Baldwin Honorable Mention 2009
by Angela EJ Koh
My mother always loved the rain.
She loved the sharp edges of the stones washed with it
because she liked things clean.
It cleans every alley, she said.
God must like things clean. She was sure of this
more than the broken zippers
and the washed take-out boxes she saved in the pantry.
She loved to bleed.
I hope she finally found God’s cleaning in it.
Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign. We are crossing a zone of turbulence.
I’ve become used to terminals, security, and flying. The five hours from New York to San Jose wasn’t so bad compared to the fifteen from Seoul. Flying, particularly during holidays, meant clearing my head. Recently, I’ve been met with some resistance in my career. Though the business in writing may not be the same as other endeavors, in the end it is still a business. Despite ample planning and the MFA, my trajectory was a little off from what I had expected. It bothered me considerably on my flight back home.
Then the presumptuousness struck me. Maybe the tools I had acquired in my skill-box from working for a newspaper and building a portfolio got me to New York, but those same tools won’t get me from New York to my next goal. Now, I need to re-evaluate these tools and cultivate new ones. I have to adapt to my shifting environment, and the ability to reinvent myself is the answer. Like any good RPG game–new level, new rules.
So I’m experiencing some turbulence in my life. But that’s okay. Instead of fighting to stand, I’m going to return to my seat and fasten my belt—wait it out. Meanwhile, what I have in tools of fiction dialogue might shift into a mastery of exposition. My short-lined poetry might become long-lined prose (it has already). Even my interests in multicultural genres have been ambushed while outlining ideas of magical realism. I have to remind myself that I haven’t stopped, or even slowed. I am working on a foundation. I might labor and at times feel there’s nothing this instant to show for it. But the foundation that is never visible from the outside is what holds up an empire.
Questions to ask for 2012:
What are you doing to build a foundation?
How are you planning to reinvent yourself to become more relevant and successful today?
What are the tools you are working with? Do you need to add more to your repertoire or use your old ones in a new fashion?
Are your projects in line with your goals? Slow steps in the right direction are better than fast steps towards the wrong one.
An Interview with Agent Jenni Ferrari-Adler
Jenni Ferrari-Adler specializes in representing novels, food narrative and cookbooks, and narrative nonfiction, as well as selling clients’ pieces to newspapers and magazines including The New Yorker, The New York Times, Granta, Tin House, Glimmer Train, O The Oprah Magazine and more. A full service agent who loves working editorially and personally with her clients, Jenni holds an MFA in fiction from the University of Michigan and a BA from Oberlin College. She taught creative writing at the University of Michigan and the Gotham Writers Workshop. She has worked as a reader for The Paris Review, and a bookseller at Housing Works. Her short fiction and food writing have been published in numerous magazines. She is the editor of ALONE IN THE KITCHEN WITH AN EGGPLANT. Blog http://www.aloneinthekitchen.com/ Site Brick House Literary Agents Twitter @jenferrariadler
Thank you for making time to answer a few questions. I will start off the interview and my readers will jump in. The first question: how do you perceive the current market for literary fiction? How about debut novels? What should first-time authors expect when their novels become published?
The current market for literary fiction is broad, I’m happy to report, from high-concept novels like THE NIGHT CIRCUS to more traditional fare like THE ART OF FIELDING and MAINE – readers still want quality of writing, depth of character, a story that engages us! The debut is a tough but exciting category as everyone loves to discover that important new voice. In terms of what to expect on publication, it varies, but the author should certainly expect to be very engaged in the promotional process – the sooner they can hook into social media and develop relationships with booksellers and other authors the better.
Can you talk about your selection process when passing or taking on manuscripts? What are you looking for exactly in the initial read-through of a manuscript?
I am looking for authority, intensity, a way with words, good eyeballs, a knack for storytelling, a sense of humor, and intelligence.
Your specialties include cookbooks and narrative nonfiction. What’s big right now in those genres? What draws you in and what would you like to read more of?
In cookbooks, there are celebrities, but also Gluten-Free is big, Brooklyn is big, places with great stories and real specialties and sterling reputations. People are looking for expertise and inspiration and good company in the kitchen – or at least that’s what I’m looking for.
@fullmoonsong asks: what are your thoughts on the rise of self-publishing & the disintermediation by the likes of Amazon publishing?
Oh, I’m a fan of editors and traditional houses but we’re all figuring it out. I have lunch with an Amazon editor later this week. I try to keep my head down and look for good stories and authors and ideas. Then, I stick my head up and take note of the sea changes in the industry and then I put my head back down and read and then back up.
@WriterMomm asks: how should an author choose an agent and how does the author know it’s the right fit?
It’s like many decisions – you do the research, you ask the questions, you talk about the work, and then you go with your gut.
@frankjedwards asks: what are you most looking for in a query letter?
Directness, just tell me who you are and what the book is and why you are writing me.
Thanks again for stopping by to share your knowledge and expertise!
Connect with Jenni Ferrari-Adler on her Blog: http://www.aloneinthekitchen.com/ Site: Brick House Literary Agents Twitter: @jenferrariadler Purchase: ALONE IN THE KITCHEN WITH AN EGGPLANT
No Child in New York
When I get to my transfer at Union Square, I have to remind myself that I have aspirations. I didn’t know I did this. It’s like I have to summon up desire day-to-day. Even more strange–that my lifestyle convinces me otherwise.
After my hour commute from the literary agency, I waved ‘hello’ to the halal cart man who had become an unexpected friend. He gave me some free snack fries. He treated me like a kid. Then I jotted something down that I stared at all night:
I want to always be known as a child. My faults expected. Free to change my mind and make myself the fool.
I looked back at my past posts, terrible. I read the word, “woman,” more often than I was comfortable with. The times I argued I was an adult, I was a child. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had the fervor nor the interest to make my point. God, I’m losing my interest.
ph. by me
I’m not saying that New York has wrestled it from me. That the city’s trains hold the mourning and unfamiliarity has changed to dislike. But I have lost something. To make up for it, I throw post-its up on my ceiling, fridge, drawers. I remind myself, you’re still a person and even if you have nothing, you have your goals. The shocks of bright paper tell me I know who I am. Yet, on special days when I come up empty and my desires turn to smoke, the bit of child that does remain wonders what she’ll get for giving up– as if all must be fair.
Mailbox: Stay tough, Champ
Last week, I got a direct reply to my latest post in the mail. A reader, comic artist, and friend from Southern California sent me this animated reminder with a mini-Angela, “books weighing as babies,” and the rain. +2 points for mailing, +2 points for re-interpretation/better interpretation, +2 for literary device label, +2 for stick figure (with great eyebrows), and +10 for profanity.
Stay tough, Champ!
Angela: FUCK YOU, PATHETIC FALLACY! I’M ANGELA-MOTHERFUCKIN’-KOH! I’M A WRITER! I’M THE CATALYST THAT TURNS MISERY INTO ART! YOU’RE MAKING ME STRONGER!
I’d like to be that Angela. She seems a lot cooler than me. Thanks, man.
It started out as a good day, New York
Sick with unknown dizziness, I waited after my night lecture for the city shuttle. I let the rain wash over me since an umbrella storefront was quite far. I held my books weighing as much as babies. One hour passed. Two hours. Then, I didn’t know. My phone had died in my hand.
So I ran a mile back. My door-face gave no greeting or welcome. I sloshed in and threw the books on the floor—they had torn my arms. I threw my shoes outside—their bottoms couldn’t grip wet cement and had sent me flying. In this manner, I blamed and hated everything. Even my new family and the few friends I had left behind. How could they let me leave—how could they believe my city conquests hadn’t stopped at Seoul, Tokyo, San Francisco.
Stealing Grandma
My grandma was born in Korea, raised in Japan so her name: Kumiko. Though, only I knew that. I gave her English lessons, and she made me paper fans or microwaved eel over rice. I slept over her house all the way to the 11th grade. She was my only family in the states, or so worth calling.
Something that stayed with me, unfortunately, was an incident at her funeral. One “family” member, with the backing of many others, accused me of not mourning enough for Grandma. It was a public accusation. I was nineteen. And from it, utter humiliation and ridicule haunted me for years, though the guiltless accuser likely forgot the incident in a minute’s time.
Yesterday, I visited my grandma’s gravesite at Gate of Heaven in Los Gatos. I kneeled in the grass and thought she had the nicest picture on the block. I now have an answer to that accuser (and fellows). I mourned in private because I was afraid. If anyone—even those who knew Grandma—got a glimpse of my pain, they would see into my relationship with Kimiko. They would see our jargon, our stories, and the way we were. I wasn’t ready to share that. At nineteen, bereft and in pieces, I wanted to keep her mine and only mine for a little longer. Even then, you took from me whatever composure I could barely muster.
If Dreams Were Contagious
…
And the dream has a pain in its heart
the wonders of which are manifold,
or so the story is told.
-James Tate/ 1943/ “Dream On”
ph. by Shakeisamu
After one discussion, an editor approached me and called me, “medieval.” He asked why I still believe in broad terms: fate, sacrifice, human power. “That’s superhero stuff,” he said. It made me think. I don’t have anything, if not the belief in my own significance—in carrying a role that no other persons could fill. The editor must have called to me not for an explanation of terms, but because he was surprised that my adulthood had been survived by such child-like hopes, dreams. Read more…
Guest Blogger: Cheryl Chen on the Writer’s Stereotype
Cheryl Chen: BA English/Creative Writing, University of California, Irvine. Mentored by Ron Carlson, Honors. JAR prose/poetry Editor. Published in CHP’s NAR magazine and won “Best Fiction Piece” in 2009. Children’s Literature Enthusiast. Speaks and leads Extension 777. Currently works in Newport Beach and loves spending time with her family and fiancé. Blog http://writercherylchen.blogspot.com/ Twitter http://twitter.com/Cheryl__Chen Contact chen.cheryl.d@gmail.com
Ron Carlson told his students a piece of advice that I will never forget. When his library building would clear out for summer, he’d sneak inside to use the typewriters. He wrote so many stories on those machines in the dawn of his summer vacation. He told us that you need to set yourself a precedent for your days off. You have time off to write, not time off to play.
Whatever party or gathering that you are tempted to go to, write off your friends because you have an obligation to write.
The impact of his words frightened me. To me, hanging out isn’t a waste; it’s a valuable investment of time spent with loved ones. Carlson’s “idea” of a writer is rampant. We’re told to aim for this stereotype, to neglect the demands of society and our lives. Having completed my first novel draft in a year (while planning a wedding), I still resist such conformity. What will I write about if I don’t experience life and cultivate relationships? Read more…
An Interview with Hai M. Truong by Angela Koh
Hai M. Truong: BA English Literature, Minor in Education Studies, University of California Irvine. SAGE Scholars. UCLA Law Fellow. UC Berkeley Summer Fellow. Worked under Congresswoman Loretta Sanchez. Research on Education, Healthcare, Environmental legislation. Taught seminars in Anaheim, Santa Ana, Orange County. Enjoys public speaking and singing Sinatra. Contact HaiMTruong@gmail.com
[Angela Koh]: Something interesting that people don’t know is that you were offered tentative placement in the Peace Corps, but turned it down. After the long application and screening process, how did you come to this decision? What advice would you give to future Peace Corps applicants?
[Hai Truong]: At first, I wanted to experience my mother’s life before fleeing Vietnam – being worlds away from comfort and what I knew. I imagined myself attaining that abstract sense of becoming a better man. But, I realized I’m a close-quarters-contact-kind-of-guy. There are people whom I’d rather learn from and serve right here. The process took since last July up until last Read more…
Mailbox: New Poems & Sketch
Re: Ghosts/ 656 Sunnyhills
I read your published works on Entasis. They are so wonderful. It has been quite a while since I’ve read a poem and felt touched. Usually I feel removed, somehow.
Write on. No pun intended.
Warmest,
Jenny/ San Francisco
Thanks, Jenny! Recently, while editing pages stacked up to my chin, something came to me. That is, as a poet, I’m a product of the poets that came before me and a factor to those that will follow. It seemed burdensome at first, to see one’s accountability in literary history. Yet it was invigorating to know that my works do not represent myself, but the work of (this is corny, and there is no other word) mankind. So, I hope you feel that it’s not my poems Ghosts and 656 Sunnyhills in particular that have touched you. You’ve simply found your way back into poetry. These poems are not mine to credit – the way one’s body is only a vessel for the soul.
Re: Sketches?
Are you still drawing stuff up? You should post more of your sketches!
Keith/ Ontario
This week I just finished adding color to a family sketch. I’ve been looking to fit it in a frame and give it to my dad for a Father’s Day gift. My pockets have been losing weight these days so this will have to do. I’m kind of the five-year-old that brings a classroom finger-paint sheet home so it could be up on the refrigerator.
Here’s the original photo. This is actually the only copy of a family photo I have. I’d carried it for years around Southern California. I’ll do more to improve on my sketches and share them!
Letters are the highlight of my week. About two and a half weeks ago, I even got my first hate mail which was very exciting. It began with “Dearest Cunt.” E-mail me at angelaejkoh@gmail.com
More Sketches:
From My Sketchbook/ If Not a Poet/ From My Sketchbook II/ Whether it be better in Sorrow than Comfort
The Extent To Which One May Reap
New York City
“It’s not enough,” was the first thing that came to mind. Half-year into 2011 and by luck, I’ve had the opportunity to work with: The Orange County Register, WongFu/afterschoolspecial, Gulf Stream/Entasis/TriQuarterly publications, over 10k twitter followers, first tattoo piece, Columbia MFA acceptance, Steppie/MaryLenore with Sylvia G Photography, comics site Critiques4Geeks, trek in Guatemala, and see the polished 7th chapter of my novel draft. I owed it to the goodness of my colleagues – for allowing me to dip into their projects, for assisting me with mine. Despite my gratitude (and to that of my body, harboring unknown energy for pursuit), I sat cross-legged on a patio chair in the garage and thought, Read more…
