Featured

Spotlight: Drs. Audrey Fessler and Jeff Vahlbusch

Jeff Vahlbusch and Audrey Fessler

Jeff Vahlbusch and Audrey Fessler

By B.J. Hollars

No entry-level creative writing classroom is complete without a reading of Billy Collins’ “Introduction to Poetry”, a poem that pleads with students to simply let poems be.  

Admittedly, it’s a task easier said than done, especially when so much of students’ educational lives now involves synthesis, analysis and deconstructing a thing into its simplest parts.  By poem’s end, the resigned narrator laments that despite his pleas, readers will likely still tend to beat poems “with a hose / to find out what it really means.” 

Yet what happens when we allow meaning to take a back seat to musicality?

For a decade now, Drs. Audrey Fessler and Jeff Vahlbusch have been doing just that, organizing the International Poetry Reading—a one evening event each spring dedicated to encouraging community members to recite poems in languages from across the world.  And that’s the beauty of the event: a chance to appreciate the sound of diverse languages, as well as to honor the cultures of the people who speak them.  

The impetus for the International Poetry Reading began long ago, during Jeff and Audrey’s time as junior faculty members at Washington College in Chestertown, Maryland.  

“It was a small college, it was a small event, and it lasted for an hour, maybe an hour and a half, “Jeff remembers.  “Perhaps 20 people read in five or six or seven languages.  We loved it, we thought it was magical.”

“And then we arrived here at UW-Eau Claire,” Audrey continues, “and thought, ‘This would be a wonderful kind of gift and tradition perhaps we could institute here.”   

In 2006, Jeff and Audrey organized the very first International Poetry Reading here in Eau Claire.  They kept expectations low, hoping for five or six languages to be represented.  They were shocked to find the reality far exceeded their expectation: no fewer than 30 languages were represented. 

“We were blown away,” Audrey says.  “We just barely made it into our little two hour allocation of time."

They not only exceeded their expectation in terms of participants, but in terms of audience members as well, so much so that folding doors were soon spread wide to make room for overflow rooms. 

“Our startlement and joy at the initial community response has kept us motivated for a long time to continue,” Audrey notes.

“Have there been any moments that really stand out in your mind?” I ask.  “After all the poems you’ve heard and all the languages, what really resonates with you two?”

“The ones that have hit home for me, often, are when you expect someone to read and they sing,” Jeff says.  “Where you expect someone to read and they chant.”

He goes on to describe an instance in which a woman from Cambodia leaned into the microphone, informing the audience that in her country they don’t read poems, they sing them.

“And she stepped back from the microphone and in a crystal clear, little but incredibly impressive voice she sang for four minutes,” Jeff says, his eyes glossing over in memory, “and it was evocative, amazing, and wonderful.  And it brought down the house.”  

Audrey adds that for her, the most memorable moment involved being “plunged into silence.”  

“At this event people listen with all their might because they’re hearing languages they’ve never had the opportunity to hear before,” she explains.  “They’re hearing sounds that they might not have known the human voice was capable of making.”

After 45 minutes or so of intense listening, all sounds were momentarily silenced as a reader shared a poem in American Sign Language.

 “Suddenly there was nothing there for most audience members’ ears,” Audrey explains, “but there was this beautiful body in motion of poetry that had so much eloquence and grace and perfect intelligibility to audience members…” 

Of course, moments such as these don’t just happen; they require lots of work.  And for the past decade, Jeff and Audrey have dedicated hundreds of hours each year to their effort.  There are a range of duties to be fulfilled, though perhaps most complicated of all is creating a booklet which allows audience members to read each poem both in its original language as well as translated into English. 

“There’s an awful lot of work to do in just putting together the book,” Vahlbusch says, “…formatting all of these different scripts and languages—some of which our computers can’t handle—is a very, very exciting kind of work.”  

“So how has the International Poetry Reading contributed to the Chippewa Valley?” I ask.

“One thing we have thought for years,” Jeff explains, “is that this is an event in which we in the Chippewa Valley get to see what an amazingly diverse place we actually are, and how many different people’s languages and traditions, ethnicities and races, come together in this small spot in Wisconsin to live together.”

He’s right, and were it not for events such as this, perhaps we’d never stop to notice the depth and range of our community.  

Art often finds a way to bring people together, I think, and in this instance, the collision of poetry and culture seems to do just that, as well as instilling a deeper affection and appreciation for the place that we call home.       

I’d hate to lose such an event, and when I ask Audrey and Jeff if it’s really over, Audrey says, “We would like it not to be the end. It has certainly been a great labor of love for us both.”  

She goes on to say she’s hopeful that someone else might be willing to carry it on for a while.

“Free training,” Jeff says with a smile.

“And a ton of gratitude,” Audrey adds.  

This year, the tenth International Poetry Festival will be from 7:00-9:00p.m. on Wednesday, May 4 in the Ojibwe Grand Ballroom in the Davies Center on the UW-Eau Claire campus.

If it is, indeed, the last chance we have to come together in this way, be sure to clean out your ears, listen carefully, and savor as much as you can.

***

Music courtesy of Lulzacruza

The Straight Line Lie

Debbie Campbell

Debbie Campbell

By Debbie Campbell

Last week, I’m having coffee with an old friend. We’re splitting a blueberry muffin and she’s telling me what it’s like to be a mom. We’re mid-laugh in conversation when she stops abruptly and says, “I just thought I’d have it figured out by now.” For her, figured out means the marriage thing. But whether it’s the marriage thing or the career thing or any other thing, somehow the people I care about most all seem to think they should be someplace else by now. Writing can feel this way, too. Maybe it’s the novel you said you would write by fifteen—I had lofty childhood goals—or the poem that, no matter how many times you go to write it, refuses to assemble into something meaningful.

When I was a little girl, I kept quotes in sloppy handwriting in notebooks with moons on the front. I caught caterpillars in my parents’ little garden while they planted tomatoes and green beans. I would stand on the wooden garden gate and silently recite my favorite quotes, eyes closed, soft caterpillar feet almost indistinguishable from the small hairs on my arms. My absolute favorite was from Helen Keller: “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.”

In 2010, I graduated from a midsized Midwestern university, our very own UWEC. If you had asked me then, I would have told you adventure was Japan—the green grassy hill flooded with unfamiliarly large dragonflies, the young students I taught English phrases to through silly songs and program-approved drills. I would have said adventure was teaching yoga at local churches, or applying to MFA programs. If you had asked me then, I wouldn’t have, in the faintest, imagined adventure could soon mean teaching at my alma mater.

There’s an image I keep seeing recycled on social media. It says “Success” across the top. On the left of the picture, an arrow, a straight line. Below that straight-lined arrow, it reads, “what people think it looks like.” On the right, another arrow, this one a twisty turny mess. This one reads, “what it really looks like.”

Maybe this image keeps grabbing my attention because it speaks to my experiences both with writing and with teaching. Like I said, as short a time ago as 2010, the idea of teaching at UWEC would have been like a fever dream, something unattainable or unthinkable. I’m not sure anything has ever felt as strange or as exhilarating as having teachers I admired as a student become my colleagues. And it wasn’t a straight line from childhood to here, or even student to teacher at UWEC. It was a messy road I grew to love that led me here.

Writing is like that, too. That poem I’ve been struggling to assemble…well, it might not have come to fruition, but each time I sit down to write it, something messy and wonderful happens. I start with what I think will help me figure it out, take me on a straight line to my destination. Each time, every time, by the end of a mad hours-long writing session, I’ll have begun several other poems or maybe a novel. It won’t be the elusive poem I set out to write, but it might just be better, all of this surprising idea material that arises from the mess. And any writer knows, half the fun is being surprised.

There’s another favorite quote from my little girl days. It’s from an Emily Dickinson poem: “Not knowing when the Dawn will come, I open every Door…” To me, it reminds me to embrace the mess, the adventure. It reminds me that, while some days I feel like I should be someplace else by now, life, like most good writing, does not happen in a straight line.

5 Tips for Starting a Writers Group

In theory, starting a writing group should be pretty straightforward: find some writers, put them in a room, brew some coffee, and let the magic begin.  But even within this simplified model, there are complications, such as: What people?  What room?  Decaf or caffeinated?  

Below are five tips to make your fledgling writers group a great success.

1. Finding Your People. 

It’s not easy to find writers.  Sure, we’re everywhere, but it can feel a little awkward to walk up to a stranger in a bookstore and ask if they want to form a group.  The CVWG’s “Directory” is an attempt to avoid that awkwardness, and it’s one place to begin your search.   Keep in mind that the Guild does not have the resources to personally vet each individual group, but the assumption is that each “open” group is willing to meet prospective members with a potential to welcome them into the group.  Admittedly, this, too, can feel a little awkward.  Which is why sometimes rallying a group of friends (3-5 is a fine starting place!) and starting a new group that fits your needs is another way to get things going.   

2. Settling On Goals.

The success of a writers group hinges on finding people who share your goals.  Begin your early meetings by discussing just what your goals might be.  Do you want your group to serve as a place to workshop new work?  If so, what’s an appropriate number of pages to share, and how do you play to distribute the work?  More than anything, the sharing of work should always be equitable.  Group members loose steam when one person turns in a poem to be workshopped while another person turns in a book.  By settling on a few basic goals (What do we want to achieve?  How will our meetings run?  How many pages do we plan to share?  How will we distribute the work) can go a long way to ensure that the expectations are clear for all involved.

3. Maintaining A Schedule. 

We all live busy lives, and it can be tough to squeeze in even an hour or two a month for a writers group to meet.  Perhaps the best way to find a schedule that works is to set upon a specific time each month (the second Tuesday, for instance) and then stick to that schedule as best as you can.  Things always come up, of course, but if you can make your writers group adhere to a routine, then your group will benefit as a result of the stability.  Schedule early, block out the time on your calendar, and reserve a brief moment in your life for your art and the art of others.  

4. Providing Useful Feedback. 

Not all writers group will follow the “workshop” model of sharing work and offering feedback.  Some groups, for instance, might simply benefit by the social engagement or support provided by the group setting.  However, for those who do want to provide substantive feedback on work, take some time to decide the group’s comfort level.  You can develop your group’s “tone” or “vibe” by having a candid conversation about the depth of feedback you’re comfortable giving and receiving.  Being mindful of the tenor of the room is crucial, and striking a balance between providing feedback that is simultaneously supportive, substantive, and specific, and can often go a long way.

5. Making It Your Own. 

The most successful writers groups don’t subscribe to the same rules as any other.  Rather, each group should feel comfortable forming its own culture for the benefit of the group.  Do what you want!  Have fun!  And if it starts to feel like a slog, it’s time to take stock of your current structure and adjust as necessary.  Keep in mind, however, that building a community takes time, and building a writing group, in particular, takes time and trust.  Be generous, be kind, be present, be helpful, and most of all, be inspired and be inspiring.