Tag Archives: writing

In Which I Attempt Broadening My Hyperfixation Tendencies

So, o.k., part of why I like to say I’m neurospicy is my lifelong tendency to be EITHER deep in the throes of a hyperfixation, having a bad breakup with a hyperfixation,* growing tired of/ghosting a hyperfixation which inevitably leads to a longing for a new hyperfixation, which of course leads to a new hyperfixation. It’s a thing. (By which I do and do not mean what a character says in my beloved Heated Rivalry, “I have a thing.”)

I am not thrilled to notice that most of my hyperfixations have overlapped with an utterly heterosexual crush on a GUY. Not a surprise, I guess, that those crush urges would overlap with the patriarchy’s penchant for putting men and their art and their achievements and their media coverage just right in our faces all the time. All the time.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t push back against that some. (At least my beloved Heated Rivalry thrives in a queer universe.)

So, pushing back, I picked up on a tentacle from a previous hyperfixation, and I’ve spent some time really, really appreciating Sarah Polley.

Sarah Polley, Oscar winner, super talented, super hardworking multi-hyphenate whose IMDB retrospective includes this moment with Luke Kirby, another tentacle from my early Paul Gross hyperfixation.

Among her other achievements, she has written a whole book. Run Towards the Danger is a pretty compelling read. I appreciate her humor and her willingness to be vulnerable–she spends zero pages trying to make herself look flawless. Obviously I identify with her because of her scoliosis and back surgery (what? you’ve read a lot of what I write/you know me in real life and I haven’t brought up my back surgery or scoliosis? AND YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT ONE LOOK AT ME DOESN’T MAKE IT OBVIOUS? Wait, o.k., so maybe I need to write more about that?). I also appreciated her discussion of being a child actor who was not allowed to be a child. I wasn’t a child actor, but my poise and my maturity and my long-suffering/good-spirited endurance of aforementioned scoliosis and back surgery often made people treat me like a little grownup, or at least I felt as though I was really supposed to be acting like a little grownup. Sigh. She also details the downfall of a Canadian interviewer/media star (whose name feels too icky to me to write just now) and how she was one of his victims and why she didn’t come forward when others did. It is not an easy read, this book, but it is very, very good.

She has a long IMDB list of acting credits (including Slings and Arrows where I saw her first), but I find I am most interested in her as a director. Since I have two parents afflicted with dementia, I am drawn to movies about it. Away From Her is a lovely, heart-wrenching adaptation of a story (by a Canadian novelist whose name I don’t feel like writing just now because it was revealed she knew about her second husband sexually assaulting her daughter and didn’t stop it). Polley got amazing performances from Julie Christie and Gordon Pinsent (a Companion of the Order of Canada, the very highest tier). It’s not an easy movie to watch in some ways, but well worth it.

Is that a theme I’m noticing for Sarah Polley? Making things that are not easy to ingest? But well worth it? Maybe, maybe.

The next movie I saw which she directed was Take This Waltz. It is an easy watch IN MANY WAYS: lush cinematography, compelling soundtrack, love-letter to Toronto, sexy sex scenes, tons of humor, good depictions of women’s friendships, good performances all around. But challenging because the love the characters feel isn’t sufficient to fix all their problems and make them 100% virtuous admirable people.

Then came Women Talking. Wow, wow, wow. She won an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay. Easy watch? Nope. Worth it? Absolutely.t

The fact that she has a book which takes a pretty unflinching look at her own life from multiple angles shouldn’t be surprising, since she also has a documentary about learning who her biological father was, Stories We Tell, featuring Michael Polley, whom you might recognize from Slings and Arrows.

And then finally, I am looking forward to The Bell Jar, which I learned about because one of its cast members is a star of, um, one of my other hyperfixations. O.k., o.k., it’s Connor Storrie. From Heated Rivalry, Season 2 of which will feature Paul Gross in a really skeevy villain role, which I kind of predicted here.

I am looking forward to The Bell Jar because Polley adapted it from Plath’s novel and now that I’m 61, I think maybe I can plunge back into Plath’s world without feeling so rattled I can’t function (which is what happened the first time I read The Bell Jar and Plath’s journals–neither of which I would recommend if you struggle with depression). Billie Eilish is starring, in her first acting role I think, and that seems like an inspired choice and a really interesting partnership.

I mean, goddam the patriarchy anyway. Why should it take any effort at all to indulge in a little hyperfixation on a very talented woman with a long & impressive career behind her and the likelihood of a long & impressive career ahead of her? I’ll just say this. Resisting the patriarchy? Not easy. But well worth it.

*Spell check says hyperfixation is two words but it FEELS like one. So.

The Actors Horsed Around for a Very Good Cause, or: So Many Words Are Slant Rhymes for Breast


First of all, let me emphasize–my health is good. This has been an intense year in so many ways, and one of them was going through the process a lot of us have been through, where the screening mammogram is followed up by a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound, which is followed up by a biopsy. There were two main saving graces during those hurry-up-and-wait weeks. One, I was writing a poem every day about the process. Two, I was distracting myself with Heated Rivalry (which I’ve already written about some, here.) O.k., more than two saving graces: I also have an amazing husband and very good friends.

The results of my biopsy are that I have LCIS/classic (still called “carcinoma” BUT IS NOT CANCER). Because of that (it does put me in a higher risk of developing cancer) and my family history (mother and grandmother had breast cancer), I’ll be following up at the University of Wisconsin Carbone Cancer Breast Clinic. The results were a relief and I’m very happy to be in good hands at Carbone.

The beautiful men in my poem are two of the stars of Heated Rivalry, François Arnaud & Hudson Williams. (Also in my cartoon–I edited a screen cap & I very much hope THAT DIDN’T MEAN I USED AI BECAUSE AS HUDSON WILLIAMS SAYS IN THIS VIDEO, FUCK AI.)

Here is an Instagram reel of them grabbing each other’s pecs.

Why were they doing that? Well, Novartis has an awareness campaign called Your Attention Please, about getting screened for breast cancer. The site features clever videos with lots of images of how we typically view women’s breasts, including lots of cheerleaders’ chests, then cuts to black with this box:

The first video features Wanda Sykes at the end, and was shown (I’m guessing) on Super Bowl Sunday.  The second one is the same idea, same black box, but features women on the red carpet because it was shown during the Oscars. It features Hailee Steinfeld at the end.

At one of the many, many pre-Oscars parties, Hudson Williams and François Arnaud took their turn in a photo booth sponsored by Novartis, People magazine, and The Motion Picture and Television Fund (MPTF).

I appreciate that those two busy guys lent themselves (albeit briefly) to the campaign, and I also appreciate that they’ve been using their Instagram feeds to promote miscellaneous good books.

I suppose I am sharing this poem to do my small part to say do all the screening you can. I have been doing my yearly mammos for a lot of years, and I will happily do more and even MRIs as part of my ongoing care.

I suppose I am also sharing this poem to be a little more public about what I’ve been going through.

And also to let my friends know LISTEN JUST BECAUSE I NO LONGER TALK ABOUT HEATED RIVALRY ALL THE TIME DOESN’T MEAN I’M DONE.

Oh, and also, I haven’t yet scheduled my next colonoscopy and I need to. I wonder if there’s a photo booth somewhere for beautiful people to grab other body parts, those more germane to colonoscopy. . . . JUST TO RAISE AWARENESS OF COURSE.

Dear ICE

I mean obviously you can 
break the law but I can’t
so what if I park legally
and holler at you so long as
I don’t call you a fat boi?
No? Not even if I promise?
Maybe just my bumper stickers
say things you don’t like
on a public street? I guess not.
So how about I sit in my car
at home and scream
with helplessness and rage
if I leave the windows up?
What if I just sit there real quiet
but think angry thoughts?
No? What if I sit on my couch
with my cat and write a poem?
Oh that’s right. You kill poets.
What if I decide you are right
about everything? Except
attesting to something and not
believing it might kill me,
might give me a fact aneurysm,
cognitive dissonance made flesh,
a little emotional infarction,
a pulmonary symbolism? Is it
o.k. if I die quietly? Yes? O.k.


Trusting the Process

It’s not that I like rejection. I vacillate between responding well to it or ignoring it or putting it in the appropriate context and then sometimes taking it personally and deciding it’s a sign I’m the biggest loser. Or not even the biggest loser, just a pitiful loser, too pitiful to be the biggest loser.

But I keep putting myself and my writing out there, and that involves A LOT of rejection.

This Sunday, I’m presenting the amalgamation/transformation of rejection from a couple of places–a poetry book competition and a playwriting competition. Both were encouraging, but the answer was no.

I have this idea I’ve been working on since 2021. I write plays and poetry and want my plays to get produced and my poetry to get published. Somehow, in the month before I was set to have a hysterectomy (which coincided with a book competition deadline), I decided I should combine narrative poems written in the voices of particular characters into a play.

Wouldn’t that be cool? I thought and still think, to have a play that works well onstage and a book you could just open up and read the poems in order or randomly or whatever.

I got the manuscript done in time for the deadline, had the surgery, started attending a food behavior class from UW Eating Disorders Clinic, and went back to work, etc. etc. etc.

Since then, I’ve started and finished a lot of other projects (started way more than I’ve finished, if I’m honest). But the play-made-of-poems stayed in my head. It’s called Impelled. Here’s the news release I wrote & the poster I’ve been sharing on social media & putting up various places:

NEWS RELEASE:

There’s a lot of drama—and poetry—in an ordinary day.

Impelled, a new play by Marnie Bullock Dresser, premieres onstage in Spring Green on Sunday, April 27 at the Gard Theater from 2-4,  with a staged reading and a talkback.  Terry Kerr is the director for the one-act play set on the campus of a formerly-Baptist college. An administrator tries to help a student and a professor is sort of helpful, but under the surface of the everyday, these three characters express a huge range of thoughts and feelings and questions.

The actors for the staged reading are Melinda Van Slyke, Douglas Swenson, and Hannah Jo Anderson, all familiar to audiences in the River Valley and Madison theater scenes.

Marnie has published poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction, and journalism, and taught English at UW-Richland for more than 30 years.

Impelled is made up entirely of poems. But also jokes, sex, food, and God. By the end of the day, our characters are not just indulging in really good barbecue from a food truck on campus; it’s almost as if they have gathered together for communion.

A grant from River Valley Arts provided the opportunity for table reads, revision, editorial feedback, and the staged reading itself.

Note: due to adult themes and spicy language, the play is not recommended for those under 17.

I’ve been sucking it up and ignoring the awkwardness I always feel when I’m self-promoting. Yesterday I recorded a segment which I think will appear tomorrow morning on WRCO’s “Morning Show,” which you can listen to live or later.

All this is made possible by two things:

  • retirement means I can spend time not just on writing, but also on follow-through (the thing I struggle with the most, and the thing I found most impossible when I was working full-time).
  • I got an Artistic Development grant from River Valley Arts, a wonderful organization you should consider supporting.




It’s like growing carrots: on the surface it’s an ordinary day
but below you may have giant carrots. 

I’m hoping Sunday’s staged reading will lead to more good stuff for Impelled, but even if that’s somehow the end of the line, it’s been an amazing ride to get to work with the poet Rita Mae Reese on editorial feedback, and with Terry Kerr as my director, and three fabulous actors: Melinda Van Slyke, Douglas Swenson, and Hannah Jo Anderson. I asked my cast in an email if they had a word or a sentence they thought of when they thought of Impelled. Hannah said “rhapsody,” which honestly makes me feel rhapsodic, and Doug said “It’s like growing carrots: on the surface it’s an ordinary day but below you may have giant carrots.” And he included a picture, which I think is a good way to end this particular post:

More Local Odes

We’re coming up on the one-year anniversary of when I wrote a poem every day in April to help raise money for Tupelo Press. I wrote about it here.

I’ve been slow about finishing the odes for some of the local businesses who were nice enough to host my poetry pop-up shop. It’s very much connected to how much interaction I got–on the days when people just kind of smiled nicely and didn’t stop to talk or donate or buy some coasters, I was able to write the ode while I was on site.

But several places people were super interested and talkative, and it was harder to get anything much written. That was good though!

But as always, it’s hard for me to avoid procrastinating. And then when I did sit down to write, I put all kinds of pressure on myself to write A REALLY GOOD ODE.

In any case, I’m getting them done. Here’s one I wrote for The Slowpoke Lounge in Spring Green.

Since it took me so long to finish it, I decided I should make a fabric collage/poetry frame (which was one of my giveaways for people who donated at a certain level last spring). I’d recently organized my fabric stash, so was very glad to find these pieces to use.

More of last spring’s odes and new ones coming soon.

Should I do it again this April? Have pop-up shops & write local odes as thanks for my hosts?

OH MY WORD I DID IT

Well, I did it in terms of writing a poem every day in April. I actually wrote 45. You can see them here.

But I haven’t yet met my fundraising goal. I’ve gotten lots of positive comments, so I’m hoping just a few more of those turn into donations. Click here to make a donation. There are thank-you gifts (from me!) for online donations of $25 or more, but even $5 or $10 will help me meet my goal. Tupelo really is a fantastic press, and like William Hurt says in The Big Chill, let’s go out with a bang, not a whimper!

(o.k. so that’s not the scene in the jeep where he says the line, but still.)

Pop-Up Poetry Shop Fun

Today was my second Poetry Pop-Up Shop & they’re so fun, I may keep doing them even when I’m done raising money for Tupelo Press.

I was at the Spring Green General Store today & wrote an ode. It really has been a special place over the years, and it’s one of the main places people know about if they know about Spring Green:

AN ODE TO THE SPRING GREEN GENERAL STORE

Early spring, the flower boxes have funky tulip whirligigs,
birch branches and metal insects on sticks, but soon enough
the plantings will stretch up, spill over, glow
in the afternoon sun. When people ask directions
I tell them it’s the only giant blue building on Albany Street,
“You can’t miss it.” And really, you shouldn’t.

There’s a chocolate therapy bar that fulfills its promise
but also a chocolate chip cookie bar I love even more.

My favorite pants I ever had I bought there: linen crepe,
black, palazzo. Too many amazing shirts to list.

They made a set of directions for the burrito that was safe
for my son to eat (so many food allergies!) and posted it
several places and this gets at the best reason to go—
not just food and clothes and jewelry and toys and
honestly the best dish towels you ever saw in your life,

it’s a place you can go for company, for community, for care.

I’d love it if you wanted to make a donation to Tupelo as a way to support a good press, to celebrate National Poetry Month, to pat me on the back, to just say, “hey, I really liked this one.” AND there are thank-you gifts! Click here to donate.





Pop-Up Poetry Shop!

I’m continuing to write at least one poem a day in April, for three reasons: to challenge myself, to network, and to raise money for a truly fabulous publisher, Tupelo Press.

Big thanks to everyone who’s donated so far! I’m up to $255, and I want to raise at least $350 (ideally even more). Click here to make a donation.

Here’s today’s poem, “The Force That Thought The Green Good Night.” (I’m second alphabetically so you do have to scroll down a bit.) I feel like I’ll lose that title when I revise, but I don’t mind being obvious that it’s heavily influenced by Dylan Thomas.

One of the ways I’m drumming up more donations is to do what I’m calling Pop-Up Poetry Shop. Starting tomorrow (W 4/24), I’m going to one local business a day from 11-1. I’ll be writing, answering questions, collecting donations (if people would rather give me cash than donate online) and exchanging SWAG for donations. For these local events, a $5 donation gives you a chance to tell me what should be in the ode I’ll be working on for whatever business I’m at (even if that means you want me to include you as a customer!) The other bits of cool stuff you can get is described in my previous Tupelo 30/30 post.

Halfway Point! 15 out of 30 poems completed

Rhubarb from Day 15’s poem.

Here is today’s poem, “Jungian Archetype in the Gloaming.” I’m writing a poem a day in April for the Tupelo 30/30 project, and here’s where you can make a donation to:

  • celebrate National Poetry Month,
  • congratulate me for writing 25 poems in 15 days (I’ve been writing two when I can so I’m picking the one I most want to share, not just the only one I have to share),
  • wish me luck in writing at least 15 more,
  • support a truly good press

In recent blog posts, I’ve mentioned books from Tupelo that were important to me, and I’ll do more of that, but I wanted to emphasize they really are a press that works to publish women, LGBTQ folks, poets of color, and many nationalities–all kinds of under-heard voices.

And if all that’s not enough, THERE ARE GIVEAWAYS for making a donation:

  • For any donation $10 or more, you can send me a writing prompt/request. I’ll put all the requests in a hat and draw one for one poem the last week of April [LIMITED to 10 donations]
  • For a $25 donation, I will send you one of four (my choice) COASTER POEMS. One is featured in the SWAG picture. They are printed on 56 pt matte paper and are ACTUAL COASTERS. [LIMITED to 10 donations]
  • For a $50 donation, you can be the first person I show a 30/30 #2 poem to. 9/10 days so far, I’ve written 2 poems each day so I can choose the one I want to share. I plan to keep that up. If you donate $50, you can send me a couple of dates and I’ll send you one poem from one of those dates. [LIMITED to 10 donations]
  • For a $75 donation, I will send you a set of four COASTER POEMS. There’s the sweet one about the good side of drinking wine, a kind of melancholy one about the medicinal beauty of coffee, one in the voice of a coaster/lover who’s happy to be used. NOTE: Those three are available for viewing on the 30/30 daily page. THE FOURTH ONE doesn’t appear anywhere other than a coaster yet, and I promise, it’s the best one, in the voice of a coaster/lover who is NOT happy to be used. Just don’t, you know, get clever and get your own coasters printed with my poems. That’s tacky and copyright infringement, and you know–just support a good press! [LIMITED to 10 donations]
  • For a $100 donation, I will craft for you a custom/one-of-a-kind quilted, beribboned poem frame for whichever of my 30/30 poems you want to hang up somewhere (or burn like effigy–whatever. For $100 I don’t care).[LIMITED to 5 donations]
  • For a $300 donation, I will craft a custom sonnet for you. We’ll chat via phone or email and I’ll interview you about what you want, and come up with a sonnet. [LIMITED to 2 donations]
  • For a $500 donation, you may pick three of the above, regardless of stated limits. [LIMITED to 1 donation]

PROVISOS for all the above–any poem mentioned above is still mine to publish and share as I see fit, and I still have the copyright, including the custom sonnets. When you make a donation, you can write me a note to tell me what prize you want, and how best to reach (mailing address for the physical stuff, etc.) In the event of weirdness or harassment, etc., I reserve the right to cancel a giveaway. But mostly, the stipulation is, I hope you enjoy this as much as I’m enjoying this! Also: a lot of these will get sent along in May because of logistics (especially the ones that require sewing or writing a personalized sonnet!), but my goal is to make sure they’re all sent by the end of May.

What the little cat wants

The kitten I’m holding watches
the pen move across the page,
nose tracking the same pace as my writing.
She would rather my right hand
spend its time some other way,
petting her, for example.
She’s so small, a runt
(not a kitten any more) and I can
hold her with one arm, steady,
and feel her purring over my heart.
But she keeps wiggling, wanting
all my attention, both of my arms.

Tuuli, the little kitten.

(I was thinking of this Phil Levine poem, “A Theory of Prosody,” as I wrote, as I stopped writing.)

NOTE: she got down by choice after the selfie. I’d have waited to post it online otherwise. NOTE: she’s back. So it’s time to hit publish.