Today is Wednesday, which is noted at the top of today’s residency schedule, but which I find myself in need of reminding. Wednesday, and the last day, the day of graduation, will be Saturday. Count the days. [3.] I will introduce one more faculty reading, celebrate this 20th anniversary of my MFA program, and then leave after graduation on Saturday. There will be bagpipes!

Gary and I had an afternoon together, I made a meal in Portland, and then we were back in Forest Grove for the reading last night. Word came of a positive Covid case (now isolating), but we are seven vaccinations and a mild case in, so Gary shrugged. Me too. There are alumni events today, which I plan to attend. I reached out to a couple, but no one from my class will be there, so far as I have learned. Some are far away, or busy, or unwell, or on to other things.

Adrienne Christian’s craft talk, “Hello, My Name Is … Crafting Poem and Book titles that Really Speak to Readers” spoke to me. I generally thrash around for a long time before I find a decent title. Adrienne offered a shortcut to understanding what makes a good title and a strategy for recognizing one. She considered titles of poetry, but also of books and photographs. Take the books you love off the shelves and consider the titles that engage—that is the goal! Your title is a reader’s first introduction to the work, let it compel interest. Here’s some of what Adrienne discovered about what titles caught her attention, the title: is juicy or naughty; commands a question (the “Dead House”? Why “dead”?); provokes an argument or visceral response; teaches something or creates tension; begins with a noun or verb; is poetic in its sound; is entirely original or prompts curiosity. If reading the title causes a jerk of recognition or fear or mystery, it might have done its job. Even so, untitled poems trust the reader to begin with nothing and create their own title, but risk readers misunderstanding intention. A title can go wrong if it’s been used before (confusion), references prior knowledge what readers cannot be relied upon to possess (those labeled “After XXX,” which the reader may not recognize), or suggests with work is of a kind or intention other than what it is (the title that seems sexual when it’s about clothing or anger when it’s about peace). Adrienne used missteps in titling from her own work as examples. I could have come up with a dozen examples of really awful titles from my own work, but from now on I will follow her advice.

The Alumni Panel: “On Teaching” was wonderful and I was glad I attended. The panel covered a wide range of advice about setting up writing workshops, how to figure out how to charge for editing and pursuing an academic career. It was useful and interesting and I wish I’d know all that seventeen years ago!

As an aside: I taught high school writing for twenty-five years and college writing for ten, with a few years of overlap. The college classes were easier, the term shorter, and I’d already taught my students the basics of writing and MLA form (I assigned an APA essay and then allowed them to choose their form after that, and outlined Chicago, as well). But had I been paid by the college as an adjunct, my pay would have been a fraction of what I earned teaching high school. When the department head at Clatsop asked me to directly for the college, I told them I could not afford it. When I officially retired from the high school, but the principal wanted me to continue teaching Wr121 and Wr122 but paid by the college, I told them the same thing, so they granted me a position with [reduced] high school pay without benefits. It was still much more than the college paid adjuncts. But it’s worth noting that in my last years teaching high school, I think I was the only person on staff with a Masters in my field, rather than in Education. This was deliberate. I completed coursework for a Masters in Ed, but did not apply. I had promised myself an MFA when I was first pregnant, though in the 1980, I thought that degree would be another in studio arts. I value what I learned in education workshops and from a few speakers, but not much from required classes. The undergraduate education classes I took at the University of Washington were too easy, and so were the graduate classes I took later at Portland State and elsewhere. My MFA was hard, but my undergraduate studio arts classes were hardest.

I did read at the Alumni Reading and Book Sale, the Preface to my novel, just over a page. I was hoping to see writers from my graduating class as well as others who were here while I was completing my program. There were folders for several people I know, but the only person I saw was Beth Russell. Beth headed the panel discussion but disappeared right after and I fear she had to head home.

The faculty reading began with Chris Abani reading from There Are No Name for Red and from Sanctificum (I think—that’s one I don’t have). Cate Kennedy sang “Crossing the Bar,” an elegy by Alfred set to music like a ballad, Lord Tennyson. [The “bar” is a sandbar. Before he died, Tennyson told his son to “put ‘Crossing the Bar’ at the end of all editions of my poems.”] Cate then read from a novel-in-progress, titled Safekeeping (or Safe Keeping). Cecily Wong…read from of her novel-in-progress, the chapter following her reading at the last residency.

And now I am truly and completely tapped out, have muddled through, messing up all day long, and I need to go to sleep.