Preparing to read at an open mic night at The Red Shoes.

Setting up chairs and my “Betty Crocker Counter” at the Coates Gallery where I will hold my reading/book launch party/signing.

Getting geared up for week two of my three-week poetry class

So happy that I have decided to eschew the “workshop” method of teaching poetry, turning, instead, to the root of the creative process, for, I believe, that with enough practice, the poetry comes. And then, if you want feedback, there are always writer’s circles or one-on-one relationships with teachers or mentors.

Worried that the next printing of my books will not be here for tomorrow! My publisher sent them priority mail on Tuesday and there’s no sign of them yet. But I know the good poetry fairies will jump in and help out.

Yes, it’s astonishing, but I am about halfway sold out of the book’s first printing.

Relieved that I left the online sales of my book to my publisher. Even though it might have added up to more royalties for me to handle selling the book myself, I couldn’t envision adding book distributor to my already-lengthy list of to-dos.

This whole thing has been such a whirlwind.

Thanks for checking back and supporting the book.

And I promise to post more. Yadda, yadda, yadda…

I am hoping to add some films and/or audio recordings if I can get some that are of any quality.

know how to ask for a cut,

draw the cuts on a map

so the newlywed girls

will know how to

make fat the bellies of the men they love,

how to make children,

how to keep house,

how to set a table

to have them talk and talk…”

(c) Amy Alexander 2011 “Finding Betty Crocker,” forthcoming from Naissance Press, Fall 2011

It’s all so surreal. There are many, many people who don’t even know I am a poet. Years ago, when I was very sure of myself, somewhat arrogant and naive I preached that poets become that the moment they call themselves that. Now that I am older, been to grad school, been workshopped out the wazzoo I can see the simultaneous wisdom and stupidity of that comment.

And so, world, after hiding for a generation in the closet of journalism and nonfiction, I am saying it. Out loud. I am a poet. This is my book. The book’s poems aren’t autobiographical. They are imagined, though parts are very, very true.

Soon I will be doing readings and I will post videos of those readings (at least in portion) here. I will also be posting a link where you can go and purchase my book. If you’ve read the book and you’d like to comment on it, this is a great place to do so.

Thanks for checking out “Finding Betty Crocker!”