Book Birthday! 

Hi, everyone. Today is release day for Like Waves: Poetry! Can you believe it? I can’t. It seems like a whirlwind, especially looking back and realizing how much I’ve accomplished this year, what with publishing 3 books, getting individual things published, and everything else. Phew! 

I am happy for these milestones, and hope you’ll share your support of my newest release. About the book:

A collection of poetry by Amanda Linsmeier, Like Waves dives into the author’s complex relationship with her body, told in three sections: Before, During, and After/Still. The first part centers around her struggle with low self-esteem and depression, the second throws the reader deep into the years of recurrent miscarriage, and the third, with the acceptance of her own imperfections. 

These poems evoke emotion and offer a deeper understanding of not only the author’s experience within her own skin, but her connection to the bodies and minds of others. This book is a labor of love, blood, and tears, the story of one writer’s journey from girlhood to motherhood, from resentment to gratitude.

Like Waves is available here. Thank you for the likes, follows across social media, and for supporting my work. ♡ 

Have a beautiful day! 

Book Review: Magic With Skin On by Morgan Nikola-Wren

Magic with Skin OnMagic with Skin On by Morgan Nikola-Wren

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The cover drew me in first. How could it not? Once I opened the book I was quickly drawn in to the words Morgan Nikola-Wren created. Not just the words, but the world. As a reader, I loved it. As a writer (and poet) I was humbled. The word choices throughout are strong, beautiful, gut-punching. There’s strong imagery and metaphors in some, but it’s really the way the words are put together that create such beauty.
The poems are told in in Acts (7, to be exact), and there’s prose in between, so that it reads like a story, which I loved. The poems center around a relationship (somewhat toxic or damaging) and move forward through heartbreak, pain, and then healing. Themes of love—passionate and unrequited—are strung throughout, and there are several poems that touch on words/voice/power. I related to so much to it, I had to take a step back and breathe.
Sadly—or shamefully—I do not use bookmarks, and so I have a habit of dog-earring (?) pages that speak to me. I have over 20 pages of this book bent at the corners, I loved the poems on them so much. In fact, I plan to get a tattoo of one of them. Which one remains to be seen. But still, wow. Two of my favorites:
IX.
it’s nights like this, when
your grief goes smashing
into the walls that i think of
those moments that curled your hand
so sea-shell perfectly into mine
my memory skips
at the velvet shock of your skin
and i wonder
how i ever managed to fit
so much rage into my fists

and
XIII.

the next time you come at me,
with charm in your eyes
and a throat full of
“would never hurt you,”
i’ll remember that i’m just
a mistake your memory
couldn’t carry, and you’re
just an apology i’ll never
hear the air explode into,
a double-joined voice
and a snake oil smile—
so, scrub your shadow
from my front door
don’t sell me
a knock-off
love i don’t need

My only wish is that the poems had named titles instead of Roman numerals. I don’t even KNOW what those numbers are, ha, and it would be nice to put a title to each poem so I could say my favorites instead of “on page whatever”.
Gorgeous book of poetry, and a talented poetess. 5 stars. I hope to be this good someday.
If you love poetry that is rich, sensual, and powerful, get yourself this book. I’m already gleefully awaiting her next.

View all my reviews

Poetry book (mini) update & a new poem!

Hi guys!

I’m super boring lately, and I feel bad I haven’t been blogging regularly but I have a little update and a new poem for you. First, here’s the scoop:

I was super stressed recently, trying to write TWO brand new YA manuscripts that just flew into my brain and were driving me crazy with excitement, trying to revise Weightless (my YA fairytale retelling), trying to edit Witch Lessons (after admitting I needed to stop querying for a bit. DAMN IT) and also working on poems. So, deep breaths, my BookBestie Jamie McLachlan suggested I focus on ONE thing at a time. That is super hard for me, I tell ya, but I decided to follow her advice.

First, I sent Witch Lessons to my editor Dani for a round of professional editing. That way it’s still being worked on, but I’m not the one who has to worry about it (yet)! Then, I decided to shift my focus to Weightless. At 40,000 words, told for a middle-grade audience, and written in 3rd person point-of-view, it just didn’t feel right. I’m currently revising it, adding in at least 25,000 words, for a YA audience, and told in alternaing first person POV (four of them!) so you can see I’ve got my work cut out for me. The good news? I already, so far at 18,000 words into the revision, LOVE it! It’s so much better this way. Bad news? It means I am not working on anything else. The advice is working, and I am making progress. But I’m antsy to move on to the next thing.
Which is…. like waves! My ultimate goal for the release is the end of August. As soon as Weightless is revised, hopefully by the end of July, I will be getting like waves edited. I pretty much have it all compiled, however I DO keep adding poems, haha. But, fun bit of the update, is cover reveal and pre-order up REALLY soon! Like, fingers crossed by the end of next week. I can’t wait to share it with you! I am gaga for the cover. In the meantime, I am sharing a brand, spanking new poem, I LITERALLY just wrote. Be kind. I’ll clean it up some 😉 Let me know what you think! Thanks! 

okay

okay, so i’m a poet
i remind myself of this in case i forget
i scatter thoughts all around me
in notebooks and journals
on the palm of my hand
the way i used to draw
paisleys and faux-mendhi designs in math class
okay, so i’m a poet

and i don’t know all the rules
and i know i don’t know much but
i do finally know myself know who and what
i aim to be, know the way the words
come out of me like birth
know the way love can heal
okay, so i’m a poet

and my body isn’t battered and my
blood doesn’t make the muse awaken like it used to
but i find my words anyway; i find them in memories
in the perfect mix of cool rain hitting the hot pavement
in my ever-stopping-heart’s reminder
that i am lucky enough to get almost everything
i ever wanted

and i am newly born, i am old as night
i am charred with sin, and most of the time
i’m not even sorry
i write down some of my secrets and the rest
i lock up tight for no one to see
not even my pen, my ink, my laptop screen
i am a hoarder of words, a giver of them, too
okay? so i’m a poet.

Book Review: we carry the sky by McKayla Robbin

 

I was offered a complimentary copy of We Carry the Sky by McKayla Robbin in exchange for an honest review.

This poetry book is full of small but mighty poems. There are themes, sometimes subtle, sometimes loud, about feminism, abuse, acceptance, body, healing etc. Some of the poems are extremely short, and many do not have titles—this confused me at first, because the titles are also at the end of poems, so I wasn’t always certain which poems were more than one page, since the title was at the end (maybe I’m still confused, and many of these were actually long poems, but it doesn’t matter and sorry for the long ramble on it)—I didn’t even mind my confusion once I got immersed in the words. I enjoyed this collection of poetry, though its different than a lot of other poetry I’ve read, in that many of the poems are very literal, and do not rely on much figurative language, which I was actually pleasantly surprised by in parts (because I’ve been told that about my own work and it is almost reassuring to see someone else do this). There were many good poems, and several great. One of my favs from We Carry the Sky:

since we last spoke

i have threaded my sorrow

into a sweater

and i am learning, i think,

to wear it

without letting it break me

but I also loved lines such as:

dancing is how your soul remembers to love your body

and

forget everything you learned before

your body is not a war

it is a celebration

Some of these poems are haunting, some are gentle. Since reading this book, I have added to the poetry books already on my shelves to include another five titles, and I have to say, this is one of my favorites of the new books. I’m really glad the author sent me this book to review (and I’m sorry I forgot to ask her to sign it! boo).

4 stars for a collection of poetry that has something to say.

 

First, I Was a Poet

image

👆 (Yep, that’s me. Try to ignore my faux-surprised late 90s selfie, and check out the literal writing on the wall)

Before I ever wrote fiction, I was a lover of poetry. I grew up reading the words of Maya Angelou, Langdon Smith, Shakespeare, Francis Euclide, and more. I cut out the lyrics from CD inserts and saved them. In high school I took permanent marker and wrote my favorite quotes and poems all over my bedroom walls. (Yes, my parents were cool.)

I wrote poetry during my angsty, broken-hearted teen years. I wrote poetry during times of happiness, but, more frequently, when I was struggling. It was an outlet to release my emotions in a productive, creative way.

A couple years ago, my poem The Game of Life was published by Literary Mama. It was written during a time I was going through recurrent pregnancy loss. Many of my poems center around understanding and accepting my own body, from puberty to post-partum. I write about pregnancy, miscarriage, sexuality, body shame and pride, and what makes sense to me as a woman, and a mother. I write as I see, as I feel, and I hope my work resounds with others. I don’t have the training that many, wonderful poets have. But I write from my heart, and I’m pushing myself as a poet to grow my skills.

The news here, is that I have decided to release my first collection of poetry. The collection is called Like Waves, and is slated for release April 26th, 2017. I have absolutely gorgeous cover art (no sneak peeks yet guys, sorry!) and a wonderful new editor who I will be likely working with again for this manuscript. I plan to release at least in e-book and paperback, but potentially hardcover as well.

But, Amanda, you say, that’s over 6 months from now. Why so far off?

Well, when you think about it, 6 months is really not that far away. I still have a lot of revision to do. I don’t want to rush it. Spring seems like a great time, a new beginning. A perfect time to release my collection. I also need to save some funds (because DAMN) so that I can turn out the best possible book for you, my readers. In addition, I want to build some buzz! I’ll be reaching out to book bloggers and review sites to see I can get a little excitement going before the book is released. If you’re interested in reviewing Like Waves somewhere around January (once I’m hoping to be done editing), please let me know!

Thanks for sharing in my news. I can’t wait to share my words with you!

 

Amanda

 

 

Finally Someone is Willing and Excited to Publish One of My Poems!

(Otherwise titled: YAY!!!!)

I have mentioned before I started writing poetry at age 14. I never took a poetry class in school or studied how to write poems, or even checked out the Poetry for Dummies book. Okay, I actually did check that book out (once) but I never got around to reading it. The point is, I considered my education on poetry to be just simply loving it. I read and enjoyed the works of so many. Maya Angelou was always my favorite poet. But there are so many more- Rita Dove, Mary Oliver, Francis Euclide, Shakespeare, Jewel, and other song-writers. My favorite poem ever is “Evolution” by Langdon Smith, which you can read here.

But I don’t mean that to come out as I think I’m beyond formal education. I love school, and miss taking classes, and learning and broadening my mind. I simply mean it never occurred to me (somehow) to study poetry. Poetry to me came as fluidly and as naturally as breathing. I turned to it during every heartbreak, every sadness, every joy. It wasn’t anything I second-guessed.

And then I began submitting.

And I found out I wasn’t all that great at it, apparently.

You see, although as a writer, I certainly know the difference between metaphors and similes and use imagery in my fiction, it was lacking in my poetry. And it still is. I naturally tend to be a poet who creates more literal works. You can generally, as a stranger, read a poem of mine and figure out what it means. Sure, sometimes I use “light” to symbolize “happiness” or compare my grandmother’s fertility to that of a ripe fruit, but most of the time, I say what I mean and I mean what I say. And that’s not smart poetry, and it’s not all that popular with magazines and journals. And maybe that means I’m no good. But…

During all my rejections of poetry submissions, there’d inevitably be some encouragement. I got close a couple of times, with a couple different blogs or journals. I received such lovely, positive rejections such as:

“Beautiful and poignant”

“Wonderful selection”

“Powerful”

“Very reminiscent of the writings of Adrienne Rich” (great compliment, btw)

“Appreciate the tenderness at the root of each poem”

Of course those were all followed with the bad b word. BUT.

But.

Dig deeper. Explore more. Push. MORE MOTHERFUCKING METAPHORS, please.

However, I have finally gotten an acceptance from the wonderful site Literary Mama. They will publish my poem “The Game of Life” come October, for their “Desiring Motherhood” issue. For those of you that don’t know, October is also National Miscarriage and Infant Loss Awareness Month.

I am excited and flattered to be included. And I’m proud for getting acceptance on a poem I had rejected enough prior. Now, I am continuing to work on my older poems, to polish them, to overhaul them, to hack away at the weak spots and make them into something both recognizable and fresh. I do want to dig deeper. To push myself. But I will always probably write a little too simply for most of the journals. And that’s okay. What I care about most is reaching the everyday person. Making someone who hasn’t studied poetry for years, care about my words. Cry. Laugh. Scream. Feel something. And of course, I write it for me.