Maggie Smith on the mutual reflection of poetry
The Wintering Sessions with Katherine May:
Maggie Smith on the mutual reflection of poetry
———
This week Katherine chats to Maggie Smith, poet, writer and editor from Columbus, Ohio.
Please consider supporting the podcast by subscribing to my Patreon where you’ll get episodes a day early (and always ad free) along with bonus episodes and more!
Listen to the Episode
-
Katherine May:
Apparently there's a storm brewing today. There were really dramatic red skies this morning. I had a look at the forecast, and this afternoon, there's going to be some winds. One of those things that is very enjoyable if you're indoors, but you don't want to be out at sea. It seems like the dog can sense it too. She's really tipped over about the whole thing, just seems very timid. I wonder if they feel the changes in air pressure more than we do. So I'm getting ready to batten down the hatches. I wonder if my Christmas lights will fall over. I suppose at least they'll take themselves down, right? The lazy person's way to get the Christmas lights down.
Katherine May:
But we're out enjoying the scenery while we can. I remember once taking my son to the woods just as a storm was coming up. I hadn't realised, and as we got between the trees, you could really feel the wind shaking them. And then they started creaking in this really worrying way. I'd never heard that before. It was really obvious that something or other was going to come down. So I said, "Right, we've got to get straight out of here. That's it. We're going." It was really scary.
Katherine May:
Anyway, don't go into the woods when it's blowing a gale, kids. That's fairly obvious advice. I know you come to me for these nuggets of wisdom. Ah, so good to get out today. I felt like I really needed it. Everything feels really chaotic and disrupted. You get to this point in winter, and everything feels kind of stale and dirty. Even I get ready for the sun to come back a little bit. I'm always busy lighting candles to fight against the gloom. It's worth it. It makes a difference. We make what difference we can.
Katherine May:
I'm really excited to welcome the poet, Maggie Smith, onto my podcast this week. She is the author of one of my favourite poems, and I'm sure many of you will feel the same, which is called Good Bones. If you've never read it, Google it. It has a way of speaking to everyone about how we confront a world that's full of terrible things and still feel hope. I don't think many people can balance that in the way she does. So I was thrilled when she said yes, and I want to talk about her book, Keep Moving, as well, which has been so helpful to so many people going through big changes in their life, and to get a chance to explore her new collection, Goldenrod, which again is full of dark beauty. Anyway, I know you'll enjoy hearing from her, and I'll see you again after the podcast.
Katherine May:
Welcome, Maggie Smith. I am so thrilled to have you on The Wintering Sessions, and I'm... Well, I'm a really big fan of yours anyway, but I'm really looking forward to talking to you about the ways you've dealt with the darker side of life. It comes up so consistently in your work, but it's balanced with hope all the time, I think. Is that true to say?
Maggie Smith:
I think so. I mean, I try, right? We try.
Katherine May:
Yeah. Yeah.
Maggie Smith:
And I find one of the sort of key ways I process the sort of harder, darker, colder side of things is by writing. You get that. And I think as a poet, metaphor is the place I naturally go, so I find myself in difficult times, and I do this a lot in Keep Moving, looking for metaphors that help me see perhaps how temporary this situation is, or maybe metaphors that might help me reframe it for myself, as okay, it looks like this, sure, but also, maybe it could be this other thing. Maybe I could look at it from this other angle. I find that to be super useful to me.
Katherine May:
Like how do you switch perspective? I think you look for the concrete, like what is this thing that I can use to understand this other thing? I mean, that for me is a real pleasure of being a writer, that you get to go seeking those artefacts that help you to understand.
Maggie Smith:
Yeah. It's sort of like an imagistic shorthand for experience, right? I mean, it's like experience feels so big, and amorphous, and abstract, so to be able to say, "But it's like this," and to have something concrete, and relatively small and sort of contained, to sort of compare it to, makes it feel more manageable and more understandable to me.
Katherine May:
Yeah, and then, I mean I think also, you then pass that image onto other people, and you watch it light up in their mind as well. I think that's just such a nice exchange of gifts in a way. It keeps that flow, that keeping moving that you talk about. It's that kind of circulation of ideas that we can pass onto other people.
Maggie Smith:
Yeah, I love that. I mean, sometimes it seems very specific to me, I'm having an experience, and I write something down that's an image, or a metaphor, or something, and I have this really particular association with it. Then I put it in a poem or an essay, and then other people reach out and say, "Oh, this absolutely reminds me of this one time," or, "This was exactly what I needed to read," or, "This was exactly the way I was feeling, but I hadn't quite articulated it for myself yet," and that... I mean, the idea that these really, really specific things can at the same time be universal, or at least portable in ways that you can pass them onto others, I find that magical, because that's what I get from reading too. It's like, oh, I feel like someone wrote that just for me. And I know they didn't, but it still feels that way in the moment.
Katherine May:
What kind of reading do you tend to turn to in darker times? Is there something that you reach for particularly?
Maggie Smith:
You know, I tend to read mostly poetry, and then like right behind that, memoir and essays, and then behind that, fiction. So I think my reading is opposite to most, at least Americans, which is most people read novels as their sort of-
Katherine May:
Yes.
Maggie Smith:
And then maybe they read some nonfiction, or some essays, or memoir, and then last is poetry, and perhaps only when assigned or on a greeting card. So I kind of read in reverse, and poetry, for me, is always the go-to. I love being able to dip into a book, and I can keep it on my bedside table, or I have stacks of them just all over my house. And I can pick the thing up and flip to any page, and find some incredible marvel.
Katherine May:
Yeah.
Maggie Smith:
You know? And it's just like this little gem. And if I don't have more than five minutes, I can shut the book and carry that with me for the rest of the day, and I don't have to remember, "Where was I in that novel?"
Katherine May:
It's so portable.
Maggie Smith:
"What's happening?" It is. It really is.
Katherine May:
But actually, and I think there's a sense with poetry that you almost don't want to read more than one or two poems at a time. It actually begins to degrade the experience. You actually want to just keep that very intense, singular relationship with one poem. A long time ago, I was researching a book that never got published, and I got to interview an art historian about what you should do when you go into a gallery, like what were the steps you should take to understand the work? He said to me, "What people don't understand is that you should never try and see the whole gallery. You should see a maximum of five paintings in it, and spend some time with them, and then after that, you're exhausted, so go and have a cup of tea and have a look in the gift shop and you're done."
Katherine May:
I thought that was so wise, because actually, it's often our insecurity that leads us to try and look at every single painting in every single room. I actually begin to think that's true for poetry too. Like, we need to have the confidence as readers to have that encounter with one, or two, or three, rather than trying to galumph the whole book down like we might do with a novel.
Maggie Smith:
I love that. I mean, it's a savouring kind of experience, I think, and I think poems are built to be savoured. They're not really built to be skimmed, you know? Even though they're often short, and they perhaps could be, I think of every poem as an invitation to really spend a lot of time with that poem. I actually have a friend who has a practice where every month, she reads the same poem every morning, and so-
Katherine May:
Oh wow.
Maggie Smith:
She just says, "This is the month of this poem," and then she reads it every day, and every day, it's a different poem, because you're different, right? The day is different. The weather's different. Your stress level's different. You're bringing different things to the page. It's offering you different things that maybe you didn't see in your previous 28 readings, and I love that idea of the going into a gallery really savouring a few paintings, or photographs, or sculptures, and maybe going back and spending more time with those pieces, because you're bringing a different version of yourself to that piece of art every time you go back to it.
Katherine May:
You know, part of what he said to me was, "That means that you need to spend some time before your visit thinking about your visit too." You know, like what is it that you want to see? What is it that you want to have a relationship with today? Yeah, it's really changed the way I go to galleries. I've stopped punishing myself for getting jaded halfway around, which we all do.
Maggie Smith:
Yeah. Yeah. Well, and sort of like drinking a few deeply, rather than just having little tiny hummingbird sips at every single piece of art, and then leaving and being like, I don't actually remember anything about that. It was just sort of a blur, because I didn't actually spend a significant amount of time processing any of those things.
Katherine May:
Things, yeah.
Maggie Smith:
Yeah.
Katherine May:
It's a lesson for life, as is everything.
Maggie Smith:
Yeah, so there's a metaphor in everything.
Katherine May:
There really is.
Maggie Smith:
As my kids say, "We know. We know, Mom. It's a metaphor." I mean, every time I try to say something, they're like, "We know. We know. You're going to give us a metaphor. We get it."
Katherine May:
Yeah, whatever.
Maggie Smith:
Like okay, well that's because they're everywhere. It's not my fault.
Katherine May:
Yeah. I mean, I think the gift of finding metaphors is not one that should be suppressed.
Maggie Smith:
Thank you. I'm going to write that down, and put it on a small calling card, which I will hand to them whenever they complain.
Katherine May:
Tattoo it.
Maggie Smith:
Yes, indeed.
Katherine May:
Look at the tattoo, kids. I wanted to talk a bit about your collection, Goldenrod, which came out earlier this year. Is it earlier this year in America as well as the UK, or was that just here?
Maggie Smith:
Yes, July. Yes.
Katherine May:
Yeah, July. Congratulations on it. It's wonderful, and it's got some of your... Like, your customary refusal to look away from the dark parts of life. It's like you seem to be a person who has to stare into the darkness rather than try and avoid it. I sort of noticed that you talked a lot about America actually, and what is it? What is this country that you live in, and what's it become in these troubled times? I guess that's at the front of a lot of people's minds at the moment.
Maggie Smith:
It is. It is, and it's actually sort of interesting. I've never really written so directly about what people might call political issues, but I don't actually see them as political. I just see them as sort of like I'm a human being living in this place, and seeing these things happen around me, and as a mother, and as a citizen, and as a writer, I don't know how to not confront some of those things anymore. And yet, at the same time, something happened in the past five or six years in this country, that's sort of made it impossible for me to just write about trees.
Katherine May:
Right. Yeah.
Maggie Smith:
I just felt like if I'm writing from my life, so much of what I'm trying to process is not just domestic, as in in my home, or in my community. It's so much bigger. We're feeling the ripples of these bigger things, and yet, for all of the strife and sort of horror of the past five or six years in the United States, it's not really new.
Katherine May:
No.
Maggie Smith:
It's not, so to say, "Well, suddenly, this country is a really dangerous place if you're a person of colour," or, "Suddenly, this country is a really dangerous place if you're a woman of childbearing age," or, "It's a dangerous place if you're a child of colour. It's a dangerous place if you're a schoolchild of any colour." It's not necessarily true, because it's always been an unsafe place for plenty of reasons.
Katherine May:
Yeah. We've kind of lost the luxury of looking away, I guess, at the moment.
Maggie Smith:
Yes, we have. I think we have.
Katherine May:
Yeah. Again, I noted down a quote from you, that was, "America, you're grand in theory, poor in practice."
Maggie Smith:
Yeah. Right? I mean, not what I learned in school, and I think growing up in a public school system where we said the Pledge of Allegiance every morning, and stood with our hands over our hearts, and the way that we were taught the Thanksgiving story, and the founding of this country, and the Civil War. I mean, just everything we've been taught, looking back on it now and thinking, "Wow, we sure spackled over a lot, didn't we?" And how now, as a parent, are my kids being taught? And what has changed, and yet what really hasn't changed, and how-
Katherine May:
And has that changed?
Maggie Smith:
You know, in some ways it has, and in other ways, unfortunately it really hasn't. I mean, there's still a lot of... I think we like to think of ourselves as the good guys.
Katherine May:
Yeah. Yeah.
Maggie Smith:
I mean, I live in Columbus, Ohio, which is named after Christopher Columbus, so even going back to that story. I think we just really want to think of ourselves as being freedom, and equality, and democracy, and fairness, and those are all great things in theory, but how are those things being implemented, and how were they being implemented all along, and who gets them? Because they're-
Katherine May:
Yeah.
Maggie Smith:
... not resources freely distributed among people.
Katherine May:
And you know, we're going through a similar thing, but in a slightly different way, in that our reckoning is with this narrative of empire that we have all been brought up with, and about the way we were told that things were heroic, and adventuring, and exciting, and that we brought civilisation to these countries. I mean, that is unfortunately what we were told when we were at school. I mean, what we did learn about was your history of slavery, you know? So we looked at other countries in a very critical way, but we didn't look at our own. You know, there's huge gaps in all of our knowledge, and it's painful. I mean, I think it's more painful for some people than others. I think there are some people clinging very, very hard to those colonial narratives, those narratives of empire, and it's incredibly painful for them to have them wrenched away, but it's the truth, right?
Maggie Smith:
Right. Right.
Katherine May:
It's time to look really hard at it.
Maggie Smith:
Agreed. I mean, there's not really a way around that, or shouldn't be a way around that, although it sure seems like the truth is kind of up for grabs more than it should be.
Katherine May:
Yeah, apparently so, yeah. Yeah, in a really distressing way, and I don't know if any one of us has got a handle on that, and how it works, and what we do about it, because there does seem to be a very strong contingent who are saying, "But I want to believe this. This is the story I choose to believe, and therefore, I choose what truth is." I don't know if that's new or not. It feels new. Maybe we've always done it, and it's now visible. I just don't know, and I can't ever seem to come to terms with it.
Maggie Smith:
Yeah. I think it's more public now. You know, seeing whole factions of... And not just a few odd family members who seem like they want to cling to something, but whole factions of people, and whole media outlets, frankly, clinging to this version that doesn't really exist, in a sort of childlike way. Like, "Well, this is what I want, so this is what it is." It's like, well no, you're an adult, so you actually have to live in the real world with the rest of us.
Katherine May:
Yeah. But apparently, people don't actually.
Maggie Smith:
No, apparently not.
Katherine May:
Yeah. We thought they had to, but no. No, they don't. Just carried on. No.
Maggie Smith:
Yes, they can.
Katherine May:
But you're often right about that in the context of being a parent. You know, and about how you talk to your children about this stuff and what they bring back to you, these terrible knowledges. You know, I'm really moved by your poem, Half Staff, about sending children into schools after high school shootings and famous acts of violence in schools, and how we are constantly wrestling with the ways that we give our children to the world and how we hold them back from it.
Maggie Smith:
Yeah. Yeah. I mean, in Good Bones, I wrote about not telling my children things, and I could do that then, because when I wrote that poem, I had a toddler and a preschooler, so it's different now. I mean, I do have to send them into the world, but I'm also sending them into a world that they're much more aware of. You know, they hear news. They're learning things in school. Their friends know things. I mean, my daughter is going to be a teenager this year, so the idea that I could shelter them from things isn't realistic anymore, but it's also not desirable in a way for me anymore, because again, we have to live in the world as it is, not in the world as we wish it were. And it doesn't actually do them any favours to not know the world they live in, to not be able to see it.
Katherine May:
Yeah, and even if you wanted to, you can't hold it back, because it's changed, and that's part of their growing up, is their growing political awareness and their growing critical awareness too. Yeah, I share your instinct for wishing that my son didn't know about some of the stuff he now knows about, but it's a ship that will sail with or without my control over it, and the best I can do is talk to him about it, I think.
Maggie Smith:
Yeah, and having us be part of that conversation, so they're not getting all of their information from some other kid in the classroom, or from overhearing a bit of television, or radio, or whatever, being able to have sensitive, informed conversations and answer their questions. And I've been really heartened, honestly. I mean, my daughter is in seventh grade and is so much wiser, and more aware, and just frankly more empathetic and a better human than I was when I was in seventh grade, just a better person, you know? And-
Katherine May:
We talk to them differently though, don't we? I think anyway. We talk to them in a very different way. Like, we don't hold much back, I don't think anymore, and maybe they grow that critical awareness from knowing more about the world, and being able to turn it over in their hands and examine it a bit more.
Maggie Smith:
I think so.
Katherine May:
But then that's hard, because yeah, it's that kind of conflict. And like I often think that my son is more innocent than I was over some things, you know? He's like horrified by swearing, which I used to think was this thing that I wanted to get right into, as soon as I could. And also, I always wanted a little sip of whatever alcohol my parents were having too. Like, I was always really curious about that, and my son is absolutely like, "No, that is wine. I am not interested in that," you know? And I think, wow, that's so different. It's a change that's happening. Like, on one hand, there's an innocence that I don't think I had, but on the other hand, there's a knowing-ness that I definitely didn't have. I'm really sure that I didn't understand so much about the world, and he's less fearful about difference than I was, without a doubt.
Maggie Smith:
Yeah. Yeah, well and how beautiful is that?
Katherine May:
Oh, it's great.
Maggie Smith:
Yeah.
Katherine May:
I mean, he adapted right away to wondering what people's pronouns were. Like, I never had a conversation with him about that. That's something that is absolutely instinctive to him, and not assuming people are straight, and wondering what is racist, like questioning every... It's so... We didn't have that. We didn't have the opportunity to think like that, but they have taken to it with no pain whatsoever. It's not hard on them to do that. They're delighted to, it seems.
Maggie Smith:
Oh, I agree. My son was playing with a sort of wind-up toy the other day, that's a butterfly. You sort of twist it up and let it go, and it flies and flaps around the room. I said something like, "Oh, that little guy fell under the dresser," whatever, "you can go grab him." He goes, "How do you know it's a boy?" And I was like, "I don't know. I just called it a little guy." He was like, "Maybe we should use they/them pronouns, because it doesn't... It's not like we know." And he's nine. I just thought, you know, that never would have occurred to me. That was not a discussion happening in the '80s, when-
Katherine May:
Uh-uh (negative), no it wasn't.
Maggie Smith:
... I was his age.
Katherine May:
No.
Maggie Smith:
And the fact that they really have seamlessly... You know, and it's the same thing. They don't mind wearing masks. It's part of what helps keep them safe, and their teachers safe, and their friends safe, and their grandparents safe, so I think we can learn a lot from looking at the people who are-
Katherine May:
Kids.
Maggie Smith:
Kids, yeah.
Katherine May:
Yeah.
Maggie Smith:
Kids and teenagers. They're all right. Like, I feel like we're handing a lot of messes off to them, and I wish they didn't have to clean them up, but I trust them more than I trust the people my age and older to do it.
Katherine May:
Well, we're clinging to all sorts of things that actually, we don't even like ourselves, and yeah, I do feel optimistic. But I also, like I refuse to not feel optimistic. I feel like pessimism is a kind of luxury that I don't have. I can't be pessimistic for him. There's a UK poet, Salena Godden. I don't know if you know her-
Maggie Smith:
I do. Yes.
Katherine May:
... but she has a poem... Do you? Yeah. "Pessimism is for lightweights," she says, which is just so perfect.
Maggie Smith:
Yeah.
Katherine May:
But I also think that pessimism is something that I can't afford myself. It's not something I can wallow in, because I've got to make everything as okay for him as I can.
Maggie Smith:
Oh, I agree. I mean, I think I would be probably more comfortable wallowing if I weren't a parent, but I can't. I mean, that's the thing. It's like not just because they can't see it, but because I can't be in that head space and pass hope onto them that I don't have. I need to be able to create that for myself, so that I have a reserve to share, because frankly, they need it more than most of the other things I have to offer them. I'm not that great at helping with the math homework. I'm a decent cook, but the hope, you know? A sense of optimism despite all of this madness that they're seeing, that, I feel like is my... That's my core job, is to make them feel like it will be okay. Maybe not in an easy way, and it will take a lot of work, but that it's redeemable, and that there are things that we can do together to make this world a better place.
Katherine May:
I'm just taking a pause to let you know about my very exciting new Patreon feed. If you love The Wintering Sessions and would like to help it grow, you can now become a patron. Subscribers will get an exclusive monthly podcast in which I talk about the books, culture, and the news that are currently inspiring me. You'll also get the chance to submit questions to my guests in advance of recordings, and the answers will go into a special extended edition of the podcast that only patrons receive, and a day early too. Plus, you'll get discounts and early booking links to my courses and events, and your podcast will always be ad free. If this sounds like your kind of thing, I have a special offer. The first 30 patrons will be able to join at a discounted rate of $3 a month, for life, so do get in early and help to build the community from the foundations. Go to patreon.com/katherinemay, or follow the link in my bio to subscribe. And please don't worry if this isn't for you. The regular version of The Wintering Sessions will still be free, and I really appreciate your listens. Now, back to the show.
Katherine May:
Which leads us neatly to talk about Good Bones, which I think it would be very hard not to talk about in this context. I expect you're probably fairly tired of talking about it, but-
Maggie Smith:
No.
Katherine May:
Well, I mean, this is a poem that's been called the poem of 2016, you know? That's quite a thing, to have written something that people just want to keep and pass on like that, isn't it?
Maggie Smith:
It's so strange. I mean, it's the strangest thing, because I wrote that poem like I write any poem. I think my most recent poem was from about two weeks ago, and I don't think anything amazing is going to happen with that poem. Maybe someone will want it. Maybe it'll be published in a journal. Maybe it'll make it into a book at some point, but I just write poems. That's what I do, so to have one that came about in the same way that any other poem comes about, to take on this life of its own, and travel to places I will never go, and meet people I will never meet, and be translated into language I will never be able to read. In some ways, that poem's life is a lot wider and more exciting than my own. I'm still here in Ohio. But like, what an amazing thing? I mean, it's a complicated thing for me, just because the poem is shared when terrible things happen, so whenever it's shared, I have like a twinge. Because I'm glad that people are sharing it, because perhaps they get some comfort from it, but at the same time, it will always be, I think, associated with suffering in some way. That, for me, is a little odd.
Katherine May:
And you can kind of get hijacked by it on any given day, I'm guessing, that you can log into your Twitter feed and find something tragic that you're linked to passively, through no will of your own.
Maggie Smith:
Yeah. I've called that poem a disaster barometer, because if I do log into my social media, and I have tons of mentions, you know? If my social media mentions are just through the roof, and it's because of-
Katherine May:
Yeah, you know that-
Maggie Smith:
... Good Bones-
Katherine May:
... something bad's happened.
Maggie Smith:
... something bad has happened.
Katherine May:
Yeah.
Maggie Smith:
So my first instinct is okay, what happened? Not like, oh, people are reading something I wrote. It's oh no, what happened? That's a weird sensation to feel when you're being widely read, is oh no, what happened?
Katherine May:
Yeah. It's a very-
Maggie Smith:
But it is what it is.
Katherine May:
... mixed blessing, isn't it? To have a-
Maggie Smith:
Yeah.
Katherine May:
To have written something-
Maggie Smith:
I think so.
Katherine May:
... that people lean on in hard times. On one hand, I'm always really genuinely happy to help, on a really basic level, but I get that same feeling, really, of discomfort sometimes, that people text me, or send me messages, or tag me in to posts when they're at this moment of absolutely terrible loss, and I often feel inadequate in the face of it. You know, what on Earth can I say to that person, that I... I feel like I can only let them down in those moments, and yeah, it's a tricky one.
Maggie Smith:
I understand that completely. I think that happened with me with Good Bones, and continues to happen, and it happens all the time with Keep Moving. Like, I was joking with a friend the other day, that I've sort of become like a divorce whisperer somehow.
Katherine May:
I was about to ask about that, yeah.
Maggie Smith:
Or I mean, and not just divorce, but really, any big sort of life change, when people are going through some big like oh no, what now moment, which because of the pandemic, it's everyone. We're all going through a big life change and a what now moment. Mail, and DMs, and emails, and being tagged in Instagram posts, and tweets, and it really is people finding some hope in the words, which is always pleasing, for me to see that, but at the same time, I don't know what to say.
Katherine May:
No. I know exactly
Maggie Smith:
Like, I'm so sorry for your loss, or I'm sending love and strength. It feels that sort of like I don't want to answer someone's message with a platitude. So I agree. I always feel inadequate. Probably, I shouldn't say anything, because they already found something in something I've written that was useful, but I feel like it's terrible to ignore when someone reaches out to say something meant something to them.
Katherine May:
I know.
Maggie Smith:
It is strange.
Katherine May:
Sometimes, I wish I was capable of being a little bit more mysterious, but I'm apparently not. I just have to go in there and like blunder in, and going, "Oh, I'm so sorry."
Maggie Smith:
Me too. We're in that together.
Katherine May:
You want to be nice, but yeah. I mean, let's talk a bit about Keep Moving, because I love the idea of you as a divorce whisperer. I do have a friend who is a divorce lawyer, and funnily enough, she passes on Good Bones to her new clients. She doesn't pass on Keep Moving, but I did
Maggie Smith:
Oh, that's so funny.
Katherine May:
Well, I don't think she knew about it, so I've now thrust it into her hands, to say I think there's something a bit more appropriate, actually. Writing about a divorce, I mean, you don't write about it in detail, you know? You don't write about the arguments and the comings and goings, and I fully respect that, but I wonder what it's like airing that particular kind of laundry, because there's a lot of hope and promise that gets lost when a relationship breaks down, and a lot of kind of public-facing polish, I think maybe, that you have to let go of, to say, "Okay, well actually this wasn't working."
Maggie Smith:
Yeah.
Katherine May:
How did it feel to write about that?
Maggie Smith:
It felt really vulnerable. You know, until that book, I'd only published books of poems. And in a poem, even if it's in first person, even if there's an "I" in a poem, and even if it's relatively close to you as the poet, there's still some sort of artistic difference between the "I" in the poem and you, and even then, sometimes I would write a poem in third person, and I would ascribe to this "She" things that I was processing or going through in my own life, as a way to sort of hold things at arm's length, and not have to come out and say, "This happened to me," or, "This is something I, Maggie, and struggling with." No, it's in a poem. It's not me.
Maggie Smith:
So, to write personal essays, and to go on social media also and just say, "Okay, so this is just me. There's no speaker of a poem. There's no metaphor. There's no persona. There's no this is a, no no no, it's Persephone. It's told through this other myth," you know? I mean, I'd been doing that for years, finding ways to sort of have a little bit of cover in what I was saying, and both with Keep Moving, and actually even in Goldenrod, I've dropped persona completely, and-
Katherine May:
Yeah, it's very direct.
Maggie Smith:
... I dropped third person. It's very direct, and I think in some ways, writing those books basically at the same time, an overlapping time, one gave me the courage to write the other and vice versa.
Katherine May:
And do you think you'll ever do that again, or have you put yourself off of writing prose in such a direct way?
Maggie Smith:
No. I think I'll do it again. It's-
Katherine May:
It's addictive, isn't it, in a weird way?
Maggie Smith:
It is, and it's a challenge too, and as a writer, I'm always going to, I think, feel most comfortable I'm poems. That's sort of my home genre, but also, genre, when I think about it, is really sort of a construct, made so that people know how to sell books and shelve books.
Katherine May:
Yeah. Yeah.
Maggie Smith:
Some of the books I love best are sort of half-poetry, half-nonfiction, half something else. I like, as a writer, just pushing myself and challenging myself. I would like to try all different kinds of things, because I think really, most of the time, the content sort of requests the form, or requests the container that is best for it, and Keep Moving couldn't have been a collection of poems. Just, I couldn't tell those stories.
Katherine May:
No. No. It-
Maggie Smith:
I couldn't process it in verse. It just wouldn't have worked. And so-
Katherine May:
But I think that's the charm of it, isn't it? Like, the directness. I mean, I know they're notes to self, and that they're ways of you talking to yourself to help you get through what was obviously a devastatingly awful time, but at the same time, I think that as a reader, that feels like you're urging me directly on. You're like saying, "Right, okay, come on then," you know? "Yep, this is awful. What are we going to do next? What now?"
Maggie Smith:
Yeah. I mean, I think part of that is I was talking to myself, so it's all written in second... All of those quotes, at least, are written in second person, and I didn't even really say, until further in, that the "You" in all of those quotes is me. I'm just sort of pep-talking myself through this really dark time, and there was an element of sort of fake it until you make it of that, where in the very beginning, I'm not sure I felt very hopeful, or felt that when something burns down, oh, there's also a space there where something new can be built. But I was grasping for those metaphors and grasping for those feelings, because I just believed somewhere deep inside that if I told myself a different kind of story about my life, eventually I would get to that place organically and authentically. And it worked, which surprised no one more than me.
Katherine May:
Well, and I'm very glad it did, and you talk about kind of doing positive, like positive is an action. I mean, it's definitely a choice, but it's also something that you perform, I guess, until it sticks.
Maggie Smith:
Yeah. And I mean, now later, having done sort of those daily posts every day, not knowing really what I was doing, and just knowing that it made me feel better. Then later, I realised, oh, there's actually science behind that. There's science behind repetitive positive action, actually rewiring your brain to be more hopeful. So I sort of stumbled into something real on accident. You know, and writing too. There's science behind not typing, but writing, like physically pen or pencil to paper, that you sort of process things more deeply, hold on and retain things in a different way when you're writing, physically, and so it's funny, like finding out like, oh, I was on to something with some of these things, although I was really just sort of flailing in the dark, feeling along the wall in the dark room for a light switch, just hoping to hit plastic at some point, and there it was.
Katherine May:
But I mean, sometimes that's the way that we make our best leaps, I think, is to just practice, just to keep doing a thing. Like, whatever that thing is for you, you just keep doing it and trying to find what your gut's telling you, because I think it sometimes takes a long time to even know what your gut's telling you if you're in a kind of flailing state. And like slowly, slowly, you begin to glimpse things.
Maggie Smith:
Right? And following the feeling. I mean, that for me was always like what feels good? Like, does running feel good? Then I'm going to do more of that. Does writing feel good? Then I'm going to do more of that. What, especially in a time where I felt like I was losing a huge part of my identity, and my narrative, like what can I do today that makes me feel like me? Not me, somebody's wife, not even me, somebody's mother, not me in relationship to all of these other pieces, but just at a core level, me, and if it's taking a long walk, or writing, or dancing like crazy by yourself in your kitchen, with music turned up that you love. Like, whatever that thing is, follow the feeling, because you can't intellectualise that, you know? You just know.
Katherine May:
Yeah. And that's the root back into self, really, or to find a new self that maybe you've never been allowed to have before. That's the great gift of those moments. Talk to me a bit about the seasons, and what they mean to you, because actually, it comes into your poetry a lot, doesn't it? The kind of shifts in the year. But also, there's this real sense of movement in Keep Moving. Like, obviously, but there's a sense of time as a sort of healing track, really.
Maggie Smith:
Yeah. I mean, part of it was that my marriage ended, and things really got hard in the fall. I remember walking around and seeing the leaves change, and seeing all this beautiful colour, and its truck me that all of this beauty is actually coming from decay, you know? Like, this is all... It's sort of a death, but look how gorgeous this decay is, so trying to sort of, again, reframe change for me. And then, a couple months later, in the middle of the most difficult winter, literally the most difficult winter I've ever had, and looking up and seeing all these bare trees, with no leaves, and realising, but look how much sky I get to see now. Like, look at the view through all of these bare branches. Maybe there's something to that too. Like, maybe there's something to that, and what's going on underneath the ground? Like, stuff is waiting to come back-
Katherine May:
Really good stuff.
Maggie Smith:
... out. Right? Really good things, so everything that we celebrate in spring started in winter. Like, that stuff's just been waiting to come out, so just reframing things for myself, and I think really seasonally because I live in a place where the four seasons are very distinct, and I spend a lot of time looking out the windows, because my writing desk is in a room completely surrounded in windows. It's all windows, and I spend a lot of time walking in my neighbourhood, walking my kids to school and back, walking my dog, so I'm looking at trees and sky all the time, and I don't really know how. Just, the metaphors are always just right there for the picking. Thank goodness.
Katherine May:
They're just offering themselves to you like low-hanging fruit.
Maggie Smith:
I don't even have to search. The stuff's just right there. Thank goodness.
Katherine May:
Well, Maggie, it's been amazing to talk to you, and thank you so much for sharing so much so generously. I'll put loads of notes in the show notes, where people can connect up to you and find you, and I'm sure they'll be delighted to come and find you if they've not met you already, but yeah, just thank you. Your work has given so much to me and so much to loads of other people, and I'm really glad you decided to chat to me today.
Maggie Smith:
Oh no, thank you. I'm such a fan, and this has been a real treat.
Katherine May:
Ah, lovely.
Katherine May:
It amazes me, even at this time of year, that there are the last few leaves still clinging to the trees. Every gust of wind and a few more fall down. And of course, as I write about in Wintering, now that the trees are bare, and if you look closely, there's a bud at the end of every little branch and twig. I never knew they were there until I did my research for Wintering, and now it really thrills me to see it every time. The tree's all ready already. It's really busy at this time of year, doing all the hard work in the woodland. Love to see it.
Katherine May:
But I also love those amazing, stark lines that the trees make against the sky. It's a pure white sky at the moment, and the trees are reaching up against the whiteness, making these perfect silhouettes, reminding me of capillaries. One of my favorite sights of the year, let alone of winter, and you can really see that crown separation happening, the idea that the trees avoid each other just by a little margin, so that you get, rather than trees kind of intermingling their branches at the top as you might expect them to, just politely keeping their own personal space. And every time the wind blows, they sway, just a little. They're not creaking. It's okay. Won't be long until they're in bud. No, I've just said they're in bud. [inaudible 00:46:19] Won't be long until they're in leaf, and it all starts again. But for now it's okay.
Katherine May:
I just wanted to says thank you so much to Maggie Smith, being a brilliant guest. I loved talking to her. I love it that this age of Zoom allows me to talk to anyone around the world on my podcast, but also, I quite often feel a little bit sad that we're not having a cup of tea together. There are benefits and drawbacks. Maybe one day, eh? If you enjoyed that, please do take a look in the show notes. There are links to Maggie's books and her social media presences, as we all have there, so do check them out. She's really worth tracking down.
Katherine May:
And thank you to the patrons on my Patreon, who are making this possible. I think I'm getting used to the language now, patrons, Patreon. I hope that's right. Such a weird turn of phrase somehow, but thank you. It's been really brilliant meeting the first beginnings of this community, which I hope will grow, and it really supports this little podcast, which I have very much enjoyed doing, as you might be able to tell. And thank you to my producer, Buddy Peace, composer of the theme tune, very talented human being all round. Do check him out. He does lots of really interesting things. And thank you to Meghan Hutchins, who supports me and the podcast wonderfully, always. Ah, and thank you to you, dear listener, for putting up with my ramblings while I walk through the woods with an increasingly muddy dog. I'll see you all really soon. Back in a couple of weeks. Bye.
Show Notes
This week Katherine chats to Maggie Smith, poet, writer and editor from Columbus, Ohio.
You may know Maggie's tremendous work via her poem 'Good Bones', which she has a difficult relationship with. The poem is often referenced in times of crisis, which she thinks of as a 'disaster barometer' - she break downs this fascinating dissonance in her chat with Katherine, which reaches a wide range of topics including metaphor, the 'tasting' approach to culture, her own range of published works, America's history of being unsafe for many, being honest with children, how younger people understand pronouns so well, the divorce whisperer, prose, how the content dictates the container, the act of physically writing on paper, seasons and the beauty in the decay of Fall. So much to inspire and invigorate. A delight.
We talk about:
'Good Bones' poem as a 'disaster barometer'
Gravitating toward metaphor
'Tasting' approach to culture
America's history of being unsafe for many
How younger people understand pronouns so well
The divorce whisperer
The beauty in the decay of Fall
Links from this episode:
Maggie’s website
Maggie’s Twitter
Maggie’s Instagram
Maggie’s poem ‘Good Bones’
Maggie’s book, Goldenrod
Please consider supporting the podcast by subscribing to my Patreon where you’ll get episodes a day early (and always ad free) along with bonus episodes and more!
To keep up to date with The Wintering Sessions, follow Katherine on Twitter, Instagram and Substack
For information on Katherine’s online writing courses, including her programme Wintering for Writers, visit True Stories Writing School
Wintering is out now in the UK, and the US.
