Dear Emily,

I wrote -

I’ve lost count of the number of author bios I’ve read that describe said writer “writing at the intersection of X and Y…” I understand the line, I get it. Yet it always strikes me as one who pens from a distance, standing on the corner watching all the...go by. Why not step out into traffic and write from the collision of X and Y, and You? Then wipe the blood from your forehead and write fast from the wreckage with your left hand ‘cause your right is busted all to hell and the attractive paramedic is pushing Ibuprofen down your gullet and you may not remember your phone number in the moment but you remember well the heat of the brakes and the unmovable object called a front bumper and the terror in the driver’s eyes as she jerked the wheel to avoid the dog then looked to see you entering the scene, pen in (unbroken) hand, all in.

And you responded to that note with a request for a whole “stack” devoted to it. For me to unpack that widdle note. To say more about whatever it is I’m trying to say. Just show your damn cards, Blase. So, in the words of that Westleyan refrain: As you wish.

First, if this note sounds like I’m barking a bit, well, I am. Now a constantly barking dog (think we on social media) annoys the hell outta me. But an occasional bark from a trusted tail-wagger gets my attention, the signal is something’s afoot and I may need to put on pants. This note was intended to be one of those occasional barks, maybe even just a yip.

Second, as this letter is to you, the you who is beginning adventures in MFA land, maybe it’s something to keep in mind as you write and read and ponder and critique (hopefully in that order). Whatever or whoever you’re writing about, and that may include yourself, get in there as close to the action as you can. The “writing from the intersection” phrase hints at distance to me, (please hear that “to me,” as in “my opinion”). I know we have to have distance, wisdom often comes from it: Oh, I see now. But I’m just not into that. Maybe a different phrase brings some clarity to my muddy note—Write from the wreckage. Or the whirlwind.

None other than that pistol pete of a poet Mary Oliver wrote

Attention without feeling…is only a report.

I’m not saying that “writing at the intersection” is merely giving reportage, but if we’re not careful I believe it can lead to that. I want to write and read the feeling. Hell, I want to feel the feeling—smell it, taste it, hear it, touch it, all the physical, bodily, bloodily senses and then some. And I believe the feeling comes only from getting close, dangerously close.

In writerly convos we say “Trust the reader.” I agree. But what about “Trust the writer”? For me as a reader, that trust comes from sensing lived experience on the part of the writer. She got as close as possible, closed the gap as best she could. She wrote from the wreckage. As a witness? Absolutely. But she went one more—a participant.

Do you know the writer Barry Hannah? It’s possible he may not be on your reading list (wink). He had two words of advice for writers: Thrill me. That’s what my original note shoulda said. It would have been shorter, more poetic, and probably more palatable. Definitely less barky.

Look, I’m really proud for you. And I(we) will expect regular thrilling updates from MFA land.

Give ‘em hell, Hoos.

J