CHAPTERS: Jacqueline Suskin
Every (life) chapter has at least one memorable moment, sentence, or story.
Every (life) chapter has at least one memorable moment, sentence, or story. What are yours? In Chapters, I ask creative people to reflect on the stories of their lives and respond to any of the below prompts (in whatever way they wish).
In the latest installment, we hear from
—a writer and educator—who shares notes on creative purpose and poems from her new collection.Jacqueline’s Chapters
I. Slow Story
My new book, The Verse for Now, came out on April 22, Earth Day. I’ve been working on this collection of poetry over the last four years. It covers my final chapter of living in California and my move back to Michigan, my birthplace. It’s my ninth book and my favorite thing I’ve written yet. Maybe I like it so much because I’m a better writer now, but I also feel my deeper understanding of the rhythm of book-making has something to do with my new sense of appreciation for this work. Nine books in, and I’m exhaling to say, I think I have the hang of it.
Writing a book is an incredibly slow process. The Muse might deliver initial inspiration at light speed, but then there’s the crafting, editing, publishing, designing, and promotion that follows. I finished writing The Verse for Now two years ago. I had no idea who would publish it at the time, but I knew it needed to be a special collaboration. This period of waiting allowed me to submit the book to many contests, experimenting with a more institutional route. As I stood by receiving rejection after rejection, I took the time to envision what I really wanted this publishing experience to be. With space to meditate, I realized a few important facts: I didn’t want to work with dudes this time around, and I wanted to publish with someone local for a more sustainable printing method. Even now, I give a big exhale when I write these words. No dudes. Local. Clarity can suddenly land, but it often takes time to focus on what I really want. I want to make a book that reaches as many people as possible, but I want to enjoy the undertaking and not compromise too much for the sake of the end result. Such a slow progression, this slog from idea to project fruition, bound and distributed.
Each step of this long-haul effort is ultimately for readers. The final object gives us access to what The Muse has to say, to the many mutterings that move through a writer, expressions of experience brought to us by carefully selected language. I’m so grateful that people take the time to write things down and share them. Slowly each poem comes into full form, a glimpse, a word, a feeling extended in theory and image, in syllables methodically chosen. Finally, it arrives on our doorsteps, in our hands, on the shelf at our local library and bookstore. It took so long to get to you, this gift, this verse, for now, a slow story of determination and care.
II. Love Story
You must really love your work as a writer and artist in order to have enough energy to get it out into the world. I’m definitely not writing these books because it makes me wealthy; it’s love that guides me to keep coming back to the page, to continue saying I’m a poet, I have something sacred to offer. I must love myself through it all, I must also love language and the tradition of technique. As a poet, my life can only be a love story. I’m in love with the planet, I’m in love with the details that surround me each day, and I’m in love with poetry itself for being a phenomenal tool of communication on such strange and mysterious levels.
I fell in love with poetry at a very young age. It seemed to be the natural state of my spirit to notice the smallest signs of beauty, to point out the fox in the backyard, and compare it to a lick of fire. I’d go so far as to say I was born into a romantic existence, a poet right away, in love with loving it all. As an ecstatic earth worshipper, my adoration for the planet continues to expand as I get older. As in any relationship, I must keep learning and growing with my beloved, listening and shifting as we both shed forms and find new avenues for our feelings. I’m also married to a human being; I’m in love with my friends; I build my life around the fact that I’m a full-on enthusiast who loves with every ounce of my wacky being. I can’t get enough of love, really, and The Verse for Now explores what that means in a time of climate crisis and collapse.
What does it look like to leave a place that holds your whole heart in order to experience a new kind of connection? What does it mean to find full satisfaction in earthly devotion and also accept one’s humanity? This new book explores the efforts of love, the voice of place, and the pull of the heart. My poetic purpose dwells in the infinite layers of what love has to offer. I follow it freely, observing it with fervor, allowing its definition to transform again and again.
III. True Story
I use my poems to tell the truth. In a previous book, Help in the Dark Season, I dig into my childhood trauma and commit my memories to the page. What we remember is often different from what other people remember, so truth always has its angles and tricks—but what stays with us is our inner story, and that’s the only truth we really have.
When people read my work, they often ask me if it’s true. Sometimes I blend experiences into a single poem, letting different points in time share printed space, but that doesn’t take away from the truth. I like the honesty of my writing, the way I can talk about myself and be universal at the same time. I’ve always appreciated poetry that’s accessible and mysterious all at once. I aim to bring a big feeling to text and build a world of genuine images around it so the reader can comprehend the full sensation. For me, the true story as it appears in the realm of poetry is inviting; it can be confessional or just a way to usher someone into the reality of my mind, body, and spirit.
The following poem is an example of this truth. I once gave myself a prompt to uncover and write about my very first memory. I meditated for days on this idea, moving slowly backward through time until I reached the image that inspired this poem. When I asked my mom about it, she knew exactly what I meant and told me I must have been two years old when I overturned the flagstone and stared at the worms below. She verified the truth in this; the rest of the story crafted itself around the feeling and resonated so deeply that I was able to pour it out into words.
IV. Your Story
Moving from past to present, inner to outer, conscious to subconscious, my story feels infinite. My life has been an overflowing cup of awe, sorrow, and delight. I think I could pull from my own story for the rest of my days and still find little doors opening, constant portals of curiosity and newness. I’m so grateful for this bounty, this immense privilege, and all the angles I get to witness, all the aspects of life I get to collect. I chose this poem somewhat randomly from The Verse for Now as it is my story, but it’s really just one glimpse, a single feeling from a limitless pool.
V. Our Story
The following poem is also from The Verse for Now. I wrote it for my friend Hallie Bateman. A few years back, I realized that I needed to slow down my artistic practice, to let myself feel at ease with a different pace, an unhurried flow. Hallie was going through something similar, and this poem came from her request for me to speak on our shared need for slowness. I love it when people commission poems. I get so many orders over the internet that resonate deeply with what I’m going through in my own world. Each poem appears as a sign of the collective unconscious, the grand feeling of interconnection that says we’re all moving through this life in unison.
VI. Spring Story
My last book, A Year in Practice, was all about the seasons, so I couldn’t possibly miss the opportunity to speak on the season I’m currently experiencing. This poem from The Verse for Now captures a piece of my complicated relationship with this blooming season. I find the start and stop character of spring to be uncomfortable and somewhat irritating. I’m coming out of my winter cave, and it’s cold, then sunny, then windy, then rainy, and then sunny again. I’m a bit disoriented during this time of year and yearning for warmth. This poem touches on the tension between my blended feelings of frenzy and acceptance as spring arrives.
VII. Funny Story
There was a time in my life when I used to say I was skeptical of humor. I didn't trust it. It seemed like a lazy method to me, a roundabout form of communication that skirted the issues and skimmed the essence. I've changed my mind, and now humor is something I hold high. Especially during all of this chaos, I think the trickster is a crucial part of our greater cosmic understanding. Humor is a brilliant blend of joy and truth. The truth involved is often hard truth, but the joy brings balance; it makes the truth easier to express and, at times, easier to stomach. Humor helps vulnerability arrive with a bit more gentleness.
I'm always laughing at myself. I've always prioritized that trait, even if I am a serious poet. I'm loud, I make wild sounds and talk in weird voices, and I do little dances of excitement all the time. I love performing and making people laugh. But it took me a while to fully comprehend the holy nature of fun, the deep need for playfulness when it comes to health, connection, communication, and above all, openness. Humor feels like a good topic of conversation to circle back to, particularly when things are dark and hard, so I thought this poem from The Verse for Now could work as my complicated and poetic take on a funny story.
Thank you, Jacqueline!
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Couldn't open this fast enough. LOVE Jacqueline and can't wait to dive into their latest!!
Beautiful essay, thank you Jacqueline!