If you have arrived here, I figure you like poetry and writing about the West, or perhaps you know me. My West is different from that of any other person inhabiting this part of the world. As it should be. I love being outdoors, talking with people and hearing their stories. I suggest a different trail, note the White Bog Orchid lost in the green of the bog, warn them of the moose that frequent the area. My husband calls me the "docent of everything." He makes me laugh, which is a good thing.
Perhaps you came across one of my poems on line or in an anthology or have a copy of What Couldn't Be Fixed, a chapbook of poems published by Seven Kitchens Press in 2024, poems about my mother; you can still read a poem on that site, though the book sold out in a couple of months. Huge thanks to Ron Mohring for putting his heart and soul and hours into SKP (he has a full-time job in addition to fostering this small but mighty press). Check out 7Kitchens for calls for manuscripts. My nonfiction book, Jackson Hole: Crossroads of the West, is long out of print, but was the local best-seller the year of its publication, besting limelight lawyer Gerry Spence. RIP.
In March 2027 Mountaineers Books, which brought us Cascadia Field Guide, is releasing Rocky Mountain Literary Field Guide: Art, Ecology, Poetry. I am humbled that this compilation includes a new poem about Spotted Coralroot as well as the words of many of my fellow writers and friends from around the region. The cover is absolutely gorgeous. The book can be pre-ordered. A trio of us here in Jackson Hole, plan to organize events around its publication. Watch for details as they unfold. A big thank you to Erin O'Regan White in Missoula for giving me a head's up about the call for submissions; she can be followed on Substack where she writes about Montana wildflowers.
These days I have committed to re-writing a novel that I drafted in 1997 and which spans the Great Depression through the Vietnam War. It moves between the sea and the desert of Los Angeles County. It was inspired by my short story, "The Care of Birds," which appeared in Descant in 1994. Guess that makes me old. Earlier this year I signed up for Fishtrap's 13-month-long workshop with Laura Pritchett and realized I needed to focus on one thread in the original novel: a grandmother reuniting with her granddaughter. It is a story about all that happened in between: estrangement and redemption, mothers and daughters, love and the realization that you may not be able to go home, but can find a home that nurtures you. The novel focuses on working-class people, those folks who scrape by when all else goes to hell. It involves a lot of historical research and capturing the voices of the people who endured. To be frank, the story keeps evolving, mostly because characters raise their voices and their hands; they beg me to tell their stories as well. I listen.
If you are interested in reading what else I am writing, I am on Substack. You can follow me there by subscribing for free. I am in the process of cutting ties with the Meta world and my spur-of-the-moment musings and photos will be on Substack. I promise.
I am devoted to this novel and am so excited to work with Laura and a cohort of three fellow first-time novelists. Brava to all of us! It is hard work, but then all writing is hard, even when the spirit moves us, and harder still when we need to nudge it or be nudged. If we wait too long for that, we probably will never write again.
Thank you for joining me here.
Connie Wieneke.
connie.wieneke @ gmail.com
connie @ blackhen.com
(307) 413 - 4096
And thank you for checking in.