Steve Sherrill Haunts Audience with "Joy, PA" at Center for Literary Arts Reading

Steve Sherrill (Photo credit Jonathan O'Harrow)

The room filled quickly. People buzzed around, feeling the energy of the atmosphere, filling cups with coffee and plates with cookies. They look over brochures, glancing at information about Pulitzer Prize nominated author Steve Sherrill.

Gerry LaFemina, Director of the Center for Literary Arts where the reading is being held and Professor at Frostburg State University opens for Sherrill. LaFemina, who has been hosting readings at the CLA for twelve years, praises the author, and jokes about his quirks: "Steve Sherrill... What to say about a guy with a garage full of 750 antique crutches? Who is a keen ukulele player? Who is a damn fine fiction writer?"

The audience laughs at the joking, and once they quite, LaFemina shifts the mood to a serious feel. He describes Sherrill as "a multi-faceted writer" one who "visits... the haunted, the others of this world."

After allowing his praises to sink into the audience, LaFemina brings Steve Sherrill up to the podium. The audience erupts with applause even as the author waves for them to quiet.

"It is officially known," Sherrill opens, "I would like Gerry LaFemina to introduce me in every room I walk into."

The author chooses to read from his newest and darkest novel, "Joy, PA." He prefaces his selections with short quips about how much of a "goofball" he is, and how his novel made his wife cry "on a regular basis." Right before beginning his reading, Sherrill remarks, "Remember, I'm a nice guy, and it's about love."

The mood slowly drops as Sherrill reads page after page of dark material. After so many pages, he stops, "This makes me tired," he says, looking up from the pages to meet his audience's eyes, "Let's all take a moment to breathe."

The author reads only three short excerpts from the book. He wanted to let the audience her from his three characters, Willy, his Mom, and his Dad,, giving the audience a real dose of what the book would hold for them if they chose to read it in it's entirety.

Kestra Forest, an audience member who stood in line to buy the book after the reading, said that the reading was "really cool, and really dark." She remarked that she believed Sherrill's instance on being a nice guy. "He came to my class [at FSU] earlier. He made a lot of jokes, and answered any question thrown at him."

To end the reading, Sherrill opened up to questions from the audience. He wanted to let people figure him out, and figure out that he really is a nice guy. "This is my writing brain," Sherrill said, "I take sick pride in letting my writing brain do what it needs to do."

Plaster the walls with rejection notes

I submitted my first manuscript, and I cannot wait to receive my rejection letter. 

You heard me correctly. I am more excited to behold the words "Thank you for your submission, but..." than I am to have successfully submitted a manuscript, my first manuscript. 

I met one man, Steve Oberlan, at an Independent Literature Festival in Frostburg, MD, and he said that every time he got a rejection letter regarding a submission, he would hang it up on his bathroom wall. He had so many, that he needed to find a new place to hang his letters within the next year. 

Here's what a rejection means: You were brave enough to submit, your work was read, and you are trying. It's all perspective.

I know one thing and one thing only about trying to get published: It is hard. There are thousands upon thousands of gifted writers out there, all submitting to the same publication houses and journals you are. Some are more experienced writers, and some are less experienced. Every enters on the same playing field, though, and sometimes you just have to get lucky.

I can assure you this: When I receive that first rejection, I'm getting it framed and popping open a bottle of champagne. 

Just turned in the worst essay I have ever written. More on that later. 

In other news, I think life really does begin after coffee. For me, at least. When I wake up, I feel like staying in bed, and then I drink coffee and the world is my oyster! 

This morning, I read the first two acts of Macbeth--a relatively easy feat. Is this Billy Shakes' shortest play or what?--and sent in the worst essay ever. But I don't want to talk about that.  

Here's a funny video to get you through the day. Or you could just drink coffee. That works too. 

  

I relate to those cats. Except I am not afraid of cucumbers. I am afraid of my professors. Especially after that essay. 

Have you ever done the thing where you're being sneaky and then the person you're avoiding spots you, so you freeze in place and stare at the wall, hoping beyond all hopes that you will magically camouflage against whatever surface is behind you? Yeah. That's where I am right now. 

Rainy Day

Sometimes, rainy, dreary, awful weather is better. 

I look forward to taking off my wet boots, putting on my warm socks, and heating up the kettle. 

For anyone not loving the weather, here is a picture of Snuffles looking cute. You're welcome. 

Overwhelmed

Sometimes, the brain and the body do not communicate properly. The brain says "Do more! Do more!" but the body is tired. The brain and body fight, and the soul loses.

When this happens, you feel chained. Chained to your expectations and to the expectations of others. Chained to what you want to do and what you have to do. Chained. Stuck. What do you do? Nothing.

Or, rather than continuing to push, you make a change. You break the chains.

Right now, I feel stuck. I have goals. Everything I do works only to further my reach towards those goals. But, I still feel stuck. Life seems to be moving in a rushing whirl of quick decisions and bad mistakes. Everything is a rush.

I miss feeling quiet. I crave the silence of an early morning, drinking coffee with my love, staring at the sunrise. I yearn again to feel the sense of calm after finishing an essay. Now, when I finish work, another pile falls into my lap.

I want to adapt. I need to adapt. Change happens. There will be moments of stillness. Moments of peace. I will know again the feeling of warmth and contentment. Adaption. Learning. Knowledge. These are what I need.

Life is a rushing river, a buckin' bronco. Sometimes, the river bends. Sometimes, the bronco yields. And sometimes, the boat capsizes and the brono bucks too hard. Climb back up. Rebuild the boat. Ride, and hold on. Through it all, there is light. Eventually the bronco will tire, the river will calm. Then, make a move. Do what must be done to maintain sanity. Until then, hold tight. 

In Coffee We Trust

I'm not saying you can't get through college classes without drowning your sorrows in coffee, I'm just saying that without coffee everyone would probably be dead already. 

Today I want to share with you two sure fire ways to survive college with exciting coffee recipes. 

1) Basic Latte

1 1/4 cup coffee

1 1/4 cup milk 

1 tsp. vanilla extract

2 tbsp. sugar

2 tbsp. Cocoa powder 

2 tsp. nutmeg

2 tbsp pumpkin syrup 

With this recipe, you can happily out-basic Strbucks and ride the caffeine train to that big pumpkin joyousness in the sky. 

2) Nuts for Coffee 

1 1/4 cups coffee

1 1/4 cups milk

1/2 tsp sugar

1 tbsp cocoa powder

1 tbsp hazelnut spread 

Love chocolate? Obsessed with coffee? Then this is for you! 

For each recipe, make your coffee and set it aside. Heat milk in the microwave or on the stove top and while it's hot, almost boiling, whisk in the spices. As the frothy milk to your coffee and VOILA! You'll be more popular than that crappy coffee shop on campus. 

On Writing A Lot of Words

NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month. The eleventh month of the year, the time where novelists and writers alike madly dash their fingers across keyboards and pencils across paper to write out 50,000 words of artistry.

I have tried two times over the past two years to reach that mark, that 50,000 words. The closest I got? 15,789 words. College makes pleasure writing difficult.

After looking back, though, I realized that I had been going about it all wrong. I looked at the 50,000 like a prize. It is not a prize. Reaching the minimum of 50,000 words is merely a mark of time dedicated. This year, I write for the pleasure of it.

I am using the charts, the countdown, the days of November to mark my progress as I lunge forth in hopes of one day being a published novelist.

This year, I will enjoy the community. I will enjoy sipping coffee at a table of close friends and fellow writers and typing away, laughing at the possible idiocy of my characters, reveling in my love of words.

I vow, with this post, to not pressure myself to reach that 50,000 mark, but to enjoy the craft, the community, and the art of creation.

Heterogeneous Demographics

I learned all about heterogeneous demographics today. 

Apparently, heterogeneous demographics are differences in communities, on some aspect. The one thing I love about press releases is learning the subjects of each release. Every subject I am assigned is like it's own little lesson in one way or another. 

Sick, Stressed, and a God-Awful Mess

Never let yourself believe that you have everything together in a pretty package, all tied together with a nice big bow. Ever. Because you probably don't. You're fooling yourself. Whoever told you with their disillusioned smile, "Everything will be okay" was wrong, and you should probably stop going to them with all of your problems. Because they are wrong, and you are still a mess.

So what if you finished your essay? You had to pull an all-nighter to do it, leaving you exhausted. So what if you made it to your class on time? You have a fever and feel sick, and should probably be in bed. No matter the choice you make, you should have taken the other available option. Sick? Stay in bed. Staying in bed because you're sick? Should have gone to class.

When you try, and push yourself harder, and grasp at what is left of your sanity, people tell you to cut back. Balance can't happen in college. Everyone has something for you to do, and if you say no, well you're screwed and somebody else takes your place.

You can try to sit back and enjoy the ride, but good luck having twelve different things to put on your resume. You can drop the work or classes that make you feel worn thin enough to shatter into a million little shards of overworked college student, but good luck looking good for your professors.

Really, though, all you can do is all you can do. You do your work, you fall behind, you think you get caught up, you miss a class, you fail a quiz, you keep plugging on. Sometimes, the initial discomfort of dropping something you thought you could handle is better than the long term discomfort of allowing yourself to stay in a position you truly cannot handle. 

This Week in Interning

Those McNair press releases haunt my dreams now. Thanks for that, Liz! Having no real idea what a press release about a project covering gentrification should look like, I dove in. And failed. Not really 'failed,' but I could have done better. Of course, no draft is ever the final draft, so, after getting verbal feedback from The Boss to direct the flow of the press release, I dove in again.

This time, I emailed one of the scholars being covered and asked for more information regarding their project. I then re-structured each release in a more symbiotic, balanced pattern.

As always, there are most likely edits to be made on the second drafting, but I'll jump into those once I get the drafts back.

For now, I blog and think of the best way to bring a little more creativity and light into my little corner office. 

How Do You Know

The first time I thought about what I wanted to be when I grew up, I said, without a doubt, "Teacher." This answer seems so obvious. How many kids say, without a doubt in their minds, that they want to follow in the footsteps of those who have taught them everything from how to spell to how many days there are in a week.

The next time I really thought about what my life would consist of after graduating college, I was in middle school. Eighth grade. I took a test, and they told me I should be a psychologist. And so, through high school and the first year of college, I spent my time thinking that I would be a psychologist, and then a teacher again, and then back to being a psychologist.

I never gave thought to what else was out there, and finally, I declared myself an English major. Why not follow my love of literature and writing? Why struggle to enjoy schoolwork that brought me little joy? If anything, I wanted to be happy.

Believe me when I say that being an English major brought me joy beyond compare. I finally engaged in class discussions. I found my writing niche in creative non-fiction. I met like-minded people that challenged me to learn. I love being an English major. However, I graduate in about four months, and I still have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.

The question rolls around in my brain every day. "What are you doing after you graduate?"

I have no idea.

I thought that maybe I would get some sort of office job somewhere, but, after going through two internships and a summer job that all took place in quiet, blank walled offices, I think I would be unhappy at a desk all day.

I still know that I will never be a teacher. The hours, the stress, I doubt I could find incredible amounts of joy in a job where I am always stressed--I failed to mention that I worked as a student teacher in both a middle and high school, and felt stress upon stress!

And so here I am. Working as an intern with my college's News and Media Department. I scan papers, I clip news articles, I put events on a calendar. I write press release after press release. And I feel empty. I need that light, that fulfillment.

I want to find joy in what I do. I hope that "paying my dues" as an intern will help me find my path. I hope that my writing might get noticed, I hope that I might discover a career that I truly love.

All I know for sure is that I will continue to search, and strive, and work, and hope. Who knows where I might end up! 

Event Making

My fellow intern and I made events on townplanner.com today.

This is the only update I have. 

Open Thoughts on Being an Intern

The crumpled remains of last years intern. 

I am diseased. Every time I am given an opportunity, I clutch at it like it will solve all of my worries and future problems. But I am diseased to think this, and I am diseased with the thought that I have to say 'yes' constantly plaguing me.

When I accepted an internship with the Frostburg State University News and Media Department, I believed that I would be working on projects--small or large it mattered not--that would make some form of happy change in my life, and informative change in others' lives. 

I, sadly, felt mislead. I let myself feel, and think, that I would somehow be an important part of the News and Media Department, but instead I found myself floundering for intelligent work. Instead, I became "just an intern." 

Those three words, "just an intern," have been said to me time and time again by more than one person in and out of the office I reside in. The back corner office, the office no one wants. The office cluttered with books no one uses, with broken shelving systems and a box full of extra ceiling tile. 

A box of extra ceiling tile and dusty cabinets.

There is a stigma associated with the word "intern." Because you have been hired for an internship--a learning opportunity--with an organization, it seems that you are allowed to be treated as a worthless, replaceable part of that organization. Clearly, you, the intern, do not need money. You do not need to be treated as an equal, because you will never be an equal. You are replaceable, you are not the smartest, most hardworking, most creative. Everything you do can be done better. 

"You're just an intern, so you get stuck with all the crappy jobs."

It seems that businesses believe the relationship between interns and the business to be parasitic rather than symbiotic. Were businesses to view their interns as a need--which they are. Without interns, there lacks a direct line to the future of the company. Some interns come and go, but some have the potential for future hire. An organization would be smart to treat their interns as peers rather than door mats.

People assume that I should be grateful, and I am, but to what extent does being grateful turn into being a fool? Not just any sort of college aged fool, but a fool with her head stuck in the clouds, hoping that her press releases will get noticed by some mighty force, and she will get hired and swept into an exciting world filled with exciting work.

My desk. One of the computers does not work. 

The really sad thing is that I have a really nice, guidance-providing, caring boss. She checks in to see if I have questions, she taught me that in AP Style, press release, journalistic writing, there is no home for the Oxford Comma. I like my boss, I feel useless and unfulfilled as an intern. 

I want to love what work I do. I think that every working person searches for fulfillment. When told that I get "crappy" jobs because I am an intern, I feel like I am unneeded. People strive to feel needed. I am a person, not "just an intern."

I write this openly, with the hope that no one takes vast offense. I have worked two internships and one summer job at a company that, for the sake of their feelings, treated me just like I am often treated as an intern: with disdain when I asked for more work, with irritation when I asked a question, and with the seeming idea in their minds that I am useless because I am replaceable.

Happily, my new boss likes when I ask for more work. She gives actual feedback regarding my press releases, and the work I complete for her. From the open communication, I have gained a sense of fulfillment that I am learning new skills and helping a department so important to Frostburg State University.

After openly communicating with my boss, I gained permission to decorate the office if I wanted, to ask for more work when I needed, and to speak my mind. I am happier.

I think that, and this is something I should have realized in past interning positions, I let myself get swept up in the "just an intern" stigma. Fellow interns, if any of you read this blog, don't be "just an intern." Be more. Be amazing. Be the intern, the worker, you know you can and should be. 

Banging My Head Against the Desk

Ed Sheeran is singing. His words are beautiful; his sentences flow together in thoughtfully constructed syntax. I would like to take his words and make them mine, only tailored towards the press release I am attempting to write, and not towards musical genius.

I thought the assigned press releases would get easier. I was wrong. The release I am attempting to work on right now is far more difficult to word than the first I completed. I have to balance information, a celebration of intelligence, and the typical press release form all in one document.

Not to mention trying to remember not to use the oxford comma... 

Excelling at Excel

You know it's going to be a good day when three hours of your life are dedicated to tallying up numbers and putting them into a custom formatted Excel document.

While Excel is oftentimes a confusing, frustrating tool to use, it is useful. Rather than put countless numbers in a calculator, and take more than an appropriate amount of time to tally everything up, a simple formula placed in the correct box makes counting, tallying, and adding much easier.

Excel is, I think, one of the most important tools a college student should know how to use. Not only can students use spreadsheets to their own personal advantage by making up schedules and budgets, but in all of the work experience I have had at this point, every company can find at least one use for Excel, and they can typically find good use for anyone who is a master spreadsheet maker. 

Rainy Days Must Mean Mundane Work

Again, I stress that 'mundane' does not necessarily mean 'unimportant.' I think that the most mundane tasks often are the most important.

Today, the provided work matched the weather. I sorted through thousands of "I'd like to receive more information on Frostburg State University" cards, dividing them into categories based on year and where the prospective student heard about FSU.

I mentioned in an earlier post the importance of knowing where marketing needs to be improved. I love my school, and I'm happy to complete even the most mundane tasks to ensure our expansion. 

Rainy Days, Hazy Brain

The Weather. 

Rain pours down slowly--pours and slowly; is that an oxymoron?--and the air is full of a hazy, misty dampness. This poses a challenging question: what the hell do I wear to work?

The Look. 

No makeup. Not today. I will walk forth barefaced, letting that rainy weather know that it cannot frighten me away from a clean and fresh faced day. My shins and feet will remain dry in light grey rain boots with white polka dots. Fear not! I have a tip: Pack in a bag a pair of light flats to stick on later. The rain will not soak through shoes, and with the addition of flats at the office, no outfit will look unprofessional.
When I stood at my closet, staring down rack after rack of clothes, I wondered, what do I wear out in this maelstrom of mist? After a good ten-minute deliberation, it hit me. The sweater dress. A staple in any working woman's closet--at least, what I think should be a staple in any working woman's closet--the sweater dress comes in a variety of shapes and colors. Mine is a soft charcoal grey, form fitting, to the knee quarter length sleeved dress in a light wool material. It can be dressed up or down and the basic color means I can pair it with anything.
My hair posed an even more difficult challenge. Wear it up, and risk the chance that the windy rainy weather will tear it down, wear it down, and the windy rainy weather will absolutely make me look like a madwoman. And so, the alternative. A half-up-half-down look. With hairspray. So much hairspray. I left with a contact high after doing my hair, I'm pretty sure.

"The rain will never stop a good office look." -Abby O'Neill, Professional Wattpad author, Polyvore clothing and room designer, and fangirl. 

Apart from the outfit and shoes, the hair and make-up, I find that breakfast can make or break a rainy day look.

I ate waffles, an apple, and had a steaming mug of gloriously filtered 'Arabican' (whatever that means) coffee. I cannot recollect what the waffles tasted like, but halfway through my cup of glorious, glorious coffee, I began to notice how wonderful it tasted. A good breakfast on a hazy day is a great perk-upper. It's good to be wide awake and peppy as an intern.

While the rain might seem like an outfit and hair-do ruiner, following some easy and quick tips and tricks will make the office day go smoothly. 

The Boring and Mundane

I can always tell when Liz wants to assign me to a mundane, thinkless, boring task. She says, with a small grin, "Yeah... Good luck with that," and I know. I am about to feel large amounts of mindless boredom.

The task today, aside from re-editing my Banned Books PR, involved sorting through "I'd like more information about Frostburg State University" cards. I placed the cards into different piles including "'friends/family,' 'internet search,' 'guidance counselor,' 'newspaper/radio ad,' and 'other,'" depending on what the prospective student had checked off.

Although I sat dreaming of chai lattes for the majority of my time sorting, I understood the importance of sorting the cards. For media and marketing purposes, it is important for FSU to have a record of where potential students are hearing of the school. If none of the students checked off "internet," then FSU will be aware that we need to up our marketing on the internet.

While the task was boring, I got it. I knew how imperative it was to the school to have the correct information regarding marketing. Bringing in new students is just as important as knowing about current students. 

This Week in Interning

Press releases know no sympathy. They are ferociously informative, and un-wholesomely bland. Which is precisely why I throw myself at them with the vigor and excitement of a child opening their first memorable and perceivable Christmas present. 

Within the realm of both journalism and press releases, there is a fine line between following the AP standard, with curtailing the text to the systematic formula laid out for article, and with finding a way to emphasize voice. 

I wrote, in all, three drafts--so far, we'll see how many more are created-- of a press release announcing the FSU banned book reading. My first draft, I noted, felt dry. Boring, even. I hated it. My voice, as a passionate reader and writer, became little, swamped by the formula I had attempted to follow. My second draft? It got better. I used a more advanced vocabulary; I put words together in a way that felt more attune to my personality and voice. 

Although the draft needed tweaking, and I gathered more information to add in, I, according to my lovely boss Liz, did quite well. 

I hope to continue my little exploration of the unlearned rules of press releases. 

The Waiting Game

I have been waiting for last weeks poem of the week and the review that goes with it. Not only that, but I have been waiting to hear back about my book review. It's a waiting game.

My Sad Attempts At A Book Review

Okay, so I have yet to actually try writing out the poetry book review yet. Right now, I'm really trying to understand at least one of the five books of poetry given to me to study over so I can attempt writing a review.

I think I'll be writing about "Strange Life" by Eleanor Lerman. Right now, I have a book full of sticky notes and no progress on the blank page before me. I'm getting somewhere, though.

Excitement Over Work is the Best Kind of Excitement

Gerry and I met today, and he is FINALLY letting me put together a book report!

Before that occurs, though, I have to write a letter to a list of poetry book publishers requesting that they continue to or start to send us their books for book reviews. The challenge with this letter will be balancing professionalism with a friendly, inviting tone. Gerry even wants me to sign this one with my own name, which is something I have yet to do.

Same Old, Same Old

For the past two weeks, I have done much of the same work as I have been doing throughout my internship. I sent out two poems of the week, and finished up some rejection letters to contest entrants, totaling 87 stuffed envelopes that I printed letters for and put postage stamps on.

This is a short post. I have little to report on...

A Billion Envelopes

On Monday, I met with Gerry in his office at 9:30 a.m. He tasked me with writing letters to the rejected chapbook prize entrants, printing the letters off, and stuffing envelopes with the letters and a copy of the chapbook manuscript.

All in all, the letter stuffing and address labeling took until 1:15 p.m.

Later, I attempted to send out a rejection letter via email to the contest entrants in the Poets@Work book prize. Unfortunately, the website is not working properly. While I have the letter written, I cannot send it out to complete the task until the website has been fixed.

Poets@Work is two weeks behind on sending out the poem of the week, so I'll have a lot to put together for that once I receive the poems.

A Whole Bunch of Editing

To start off the week, I edited and re-submitted a copy of a press release to Gerry. The press release is the same that I worked on last week about Heather Altfeld, the winner of the P@W book prize.

To "beef up" the press release, I added a small blurb about Gerry, the Executive Director of P@W and my boss, as he ran the contest. I also changed some of the wording so the release sounded smoother and more professional. At the end of it, I added information about P@W.

The poem of the week was due today at 12, and Gerry sent it on time this week, so I was able to get that put together and sent out to our mailing list. The poem this week required additional research on the poem and what collection it stemmed from. I re-worded the email to suit the poem, and the additional information I added, such as the publisher of the collection, and where a review of the collection could be found.

Yet Another Press Release

I drafted up a press release about the P@W book prize winner. Stephen Dunn, the judge, chose the winner for 2015, Heather Alfeld, out of over one hundred contestants. I wrote my press release about the contest, the judge, and the winner. I haven't heard back about whether or not I need to add or detract anything from the press release, but I am hopeful the the draft is good enough to be sent out to our 7,000-some  contacts,

Intern Frustrations: Week 3

On Tuesday, February 17th, I never received the poem of the week. Normally sent out by noon every Tuesday, the poem of the week is a way for Poets@Work to stay connected with our following. Skipping this schedule not only threw me off--I constantly checked my email on Tuesday, afraid I had missed the message--but could potentially throw off the subscribers to P@W.

Aside from the frustration of not receiving the poem of the week until long after it's intended send off date, I am supposed to be writing a press release about the Mechanics of Failure, the winner of the P@W first annual Chapbook prize. If I counted how many times I had written and re-written this press release, I doubt I would believe the number myself. Gerry told me to write the press release, but I have no idea what to include. Poets@Work sent a press release out regarding the prize and the winner of it in August, 2014. I spent the last few days struggling to come up with fresh information to include, and mostly failing at that.

At the End of Week Two

Gerry and I met, finally, on Wednesday. Forty minutes of our hour long meeting were spent fighting with the different websites used to communicate for Poets@Work, trying to obtain usernames and passwords for me. Once we got the login information sorted out, I could explore the websites.

Part of my duties as an intern for P@W includes website maintenance. This week, I went onto the P@W websites and listed everything that could be done as immediate, clean-up type maintenance. This included a lot of typos and basic editing errors. As I finish up this week, I will be going through and fixing all of these grammatical errors on the site. 

I sent out the Tuscany email after some minor corrections were made to it. I also sent out another poem of the week. This time, I had to do some digging to find the information for the poem before sending it out. Gerry sent me the author of the poem and the poem itself, but I still needed to find the publication information, the P@W book review, and some information about where the book could be bought. I had no idea how extensive the process is for sending out one email. I had to go over everything included ten times to make sure the information was clearly expressed, not too formal, but not informal, and not brief, but also not too long. I ended up re-writing some aspects of the email, but, eventually, it could be sent out. 

I need to get together a press release about Mechanics of Failure, the book winner of the first annual Chapbook prize. This task will start with some basic research about the book, the contest, and how to write a formal press release. 

Thoughts on the Upcoming Week

Week Two 

February 9-15 

So far, this week seems fairly uneventful. Gerry said that he had a long list of tasks to complete for P@W, though. As the week progresses, I have a feeling everything will become busier.

I meet with Gerry on Wednesday, probably at Mountain City Coffee, the local coffee shop on Main Street. He said on Friday that I should look out for emails regarding work I need to complete, but, thus far, I have heard nothing. On Wednesday, I'm sure I'll be getting a good amount of work to do.

I finally sent the email of possible changes Gerry and I--well, mostly I--could make to the P@W websites. My observations and listing of ideas turned out to be a great success. Gerry liked all my ideas, and suggested we meet up with a Professor on campus, Dawn Armfield, to see what she thinks about the ideas we have. We would ask her opinion because she is a web-expert. Both Gerry and I think she would be great to have as an ally for the updates and changes we want to make.

What I Have Recently Learned About Technology

Gerry and I have been playing phone tag, and I believe I am at fault.

Old Faithful, the iPhone 

The iPhone 4s is old, and a bit outdated, and this is starting to show. No matter what, no matter how often I restart and power-off  the shiny black rectangle of technology I fail to fully comprehend, it refuses to ring when I get a call, or ding when I get a text message.

As an intern for a fully online, technology driven organization, having a quality phone is important. I love my phone. For years, it has been reliable. And yet, now, when I need it most, I am being failed.

Perhaps I need an upgrade.

On Food Poisoning and Meeting for Coffee

So I'm sick. 
Really, it's as if I couldn't be any luckier. I have a meeting with my boss at 10a.m. tomorrow, on Friday, and I'm sick. I blame cafeteria food.
I, unfortunately, have learned my lesson from this. I will not be trusting school food again. Ever.

I had been planing to meet the bossman on Wednesday, at 10, but he had another meeting and forgot about me. I both felt and looked, I'm sure, that I had been stood up by a date.

On the plus side, I am now able to log on to the website I am interning for! I finally received the email with all the lovely information I needed.

Later tonight, I'll be sending my boss an email with all the updates I deem necessary to the website. Hopefully that goes well.

Week One February 1- February 6

Week One 

February 3, 2015 

Writing bulk emails to awesome, published poets far beyond my league turned out to be more intimidating than anticipated. I had never been tasked with  emailing people a press release type of document before--I had never even emailed strangers before, and here I was, emailing a list of over 7,000 people; 7,000 strangers.

Gerry requested that I email members of Poets at Work regarding the first annual writer's retreat hosted by Poets at Work to Tuscany, Italy. I had to research the trip, the destination, and find quality pictures to include in the email. In total, I took three days to do this. Not because I procrastinated, but because I took my time to ensure a professional, well researched, clear, and concise email. I finally sent the draft on Sunday, February 1st.

On Monday, February 2nd, after I sent the draft email to Gerry, I had to download an Excel workbook with 87 contacts recorded in it, and cross-reference the contacts in the workbook with those on the Constant Contact website used by Poets at Work to send out emails. Unfortunately, there were only 27 contacts on the website. Needless to say, it took a fair amount of time to cross reference the databases.

On Tuesday, February 3rd, I sent out a created document with the poem of the week to all contacts in our database. The poem was a sample tantra from Harryette Mullen's recently published work, Urban Tumbleweed. The collection follows her life for a year and a day. She wrote a three line tantra every day for this period regarding her surroundings and thoughts.