Lucy Cheseldine sits down to chat with Brooklyn poets, Tina Chang and Lynn Melnick, to talk about their work, advice for aspiring writers, and much more.
Tina Chang
Cheseldine: Hi, we're here in Brooklyn with Tina Chang, one of our headliners at the New York Poetry Festival this year. And we're just going to have a little chat about what brought you to poetry and how you became to be a poet.
Chang: Yeah, I started off as a poet, probably in college, where I started to get the scary feeling that I was maybe very interested in poetry. But I didn't really know what that kind of life would be like, and I thought (and my mother thought) would be a very finically insecure life. But then as time went on, I tried different jobs - I was in the fashion editorial field, and I was really sad. And I thought let me think back to a time where I was very happy, and it was when I was in college and in a circle discussing poetry. And I thought I have to find a way to get back to that place.
I decided to apply for an MFA, and I just happened to get into schools in New York. And that meant for me that I should stay in New York. And then, I studied, and then right after that, after publishing my first book, my career just started taking off on its own. And I think it just followed a natural trajectory after that, where I found myself more and more immersed in the poetry field. And yeah, I think that's how it happened, and in terms of the Brooklyn Poet Laureate, that was such a surprise. I mean, I think I was pregnant with my first child, and I was very focused on being a mother.
And then, my husband was reading the newspaper, and he said, "Oh, there was an advertisement here that they're looking for the next Brooklyn Poet Laureate. And there are poets here on the list they are thinking would be a great person for the job."
And I said, "Am I on the list?"
He said, "Let me see. No, you're not."
And I thought, "Maybe I shouldn't apply."
He said, "Well, that's just a journalist… you should still apply."
But I forgot about it. And then a few weeks later a committee got in touch with me.
And they said, "We're really looking far and wide for the next Brooklyn Poet Laureate. We would love for you to apply."
So literally overnight, I applied, and I realized everything I was doing up until that point was really leading up to that position.
And I interviewed for it the next day the Brooklyn Borough President, who was Marty Markowitz, called me up on the telephone and said, "Good morning Brooklyn Poet Laureate."
So, it was just this beautiful prize that came out of nowhere that motherhood and being the Poet Laureate of Brooklyn happened at the exact same time. So, they say be careful what you wish for because it all happened all at once.
Cheseldine: That's fantastic. And did the position kind of change your relationship to Brooklyn? Did it strengthen it?
Chang: It really did strengthen it. I think that before I became the Poet Laureate of this burrow, I wasn't quite aware of how much was happening in the burrow. And then, when I got the position, suddenly, I was being welcomed into all of these spaces. And I realized there are spaces in Williamsburg, there are spaces in Dumbo, there are spaces in all these pockets of Brooklyn where so much good work in poetry is being done. There is poetry for pre-K (for kids) that are just beginning to learn words and learning how to read. There is poetry for those who suffer from Alzheimer's disease. I mean there really are so many different services being offered. And so many communities that welcomed me in and offered me a scope and picture of what it was they were doing. So, more than anything, I feel so honored that so many organizations welcomed me into their space to say - This is what we're doing every day on behalf of poetry. These are the projects that we have, and we want you to be involved in some way. It's almost an embarrassment of riches. There is so much happening in Brooklyn, and I don't think I would have been aware of just the range of how much is being done unless I had this position.
Cheseldine: And did that influence your most recent collection of poetry hybrid, which is this kind of connection? There's a lot of disjoint in the collection as well as there is a sense of community.
Chang: Well, at the heart of the collection is just urban living. It's this idea of living in New York and what that's like. And I think just being here, I've been here my entire life, outside of traveling for readings and maybe a stint in San Francisco for two to three years, I'm really a New Yorker at heart. This is where I live, this is where I breathe, this is where I fell in love, this is where I found my family, so everything I know is here. So, it seemed very natural after I had my child, I wasn't necessarily searching for a topic to write about. I was just very naturally writing about my family. What started out as reading fairytales to my son and daughter really kind of turned into a different kind of myth about how children are living today. Especially children of color. And what seems like safety for some is not for others is I think our current political situation is teaching us. Not everyone is created equal in this country. And I think that as I was writing it in this urban environment, that is Brooklyn, that is New York. I was thinking about not only the backdrop but the environment, the setting, that someone like my children are living in right now. Is it safe? Is it truly safe? We're surrounded by beauty, it's calm, there are trees, there are brownstones. But then there's a different kind of life for a child of color, and I think that the setting of New York played a big part in that.
Cheseldine: Did your identity as an Asian American woman play into that or as your identity as a New Yorker?
Chang: I identify as so many different things - that's another that I've learned. We identify as women, definitely, especially in this current administration, I definitely identify as a woman. But I think as an Asian American woman, it actually took me a really long time to find out what that meant. I think because I spent a long time, not necessarily denying it, but not really understanding what it meant for me until I also reach college. I realized that everybody that I was studying was either from America or the UK. And I had never studied an Asian poet, I had never studied an African poet, I hadn't studied a good majority of the world. And I only came to realize that in college (because of) wonderful teachers. But there was definitely something lacking in terms of the type of background I was being offered. And it was after I graduated that I saw the lack, and I tried to fill up those pockets by educating myself.
And what that really meant was heading out into New York City, looking for different reading series, basically living at the library, living at bookstores, talking to people. I was really in charge of finding what I was missing. And so, I found an organization called The Asian American Writer's Workshop which helped me to discover, that I'm Asian American. And there is such a breath, and such a range, of writers that I could be discovering. And it felt like it was just the beginning and I think it was back in 1991 that I discovered them and just the whole world opened up for me. Where I could be really proud of who I was, where I could read other Asian American poets, and know that the world reading was actually so large. 80% of what I was reading had actually little to do with me. You know I think that I searched for a long time in terms of what could even be a notion of who I was in literature, which I never saw before. Strangely very few of my teachers presented that to me. But I also think that they gave me enough of a background and enough of a knowledge of poetry to be able to head out there to do it for myself.
Cheseldine: Do you have a nugget of advice for aspiring writers?
Chang: Well, I got some really great advice a long time ago. I think one of the greatest pieces of advice that I got from my graduate schoolteacher when I was leaving Columbia – I was really hesitant to leave because I had such a wonderful experience there. I was scared to go out to the world and be on my own.
And I said, "Can you give me one more piece of advice?"
And he said, "Well, never stop writing."
And I thought it was the simplest piece of advice, and I said, "Is that advice?"
And he said, Absolutely. 80% of your class will stop writing over time because it gets too difficult, because life gets hard, because they have other responsibilities, or they have a family or other aspect of their lives. Be the 20%."
And that professor was so right because really only 20% of our class continued on and continued to be published, poets. And the other 80% went on to do really wonderful things, but it wasn't poetry. So, I think that was a lesson to me that number one, my professor knew a lot, and that the simplest idea that he planted in me really grew. And in those moments where especially as a young poet, there were lots of moments where I could have quit, I think it did seem like life was harder. It did seem like life was telling me to turn in another direction and try something else. And maybe try something a little bit more lucrative and a little bit more stable, and had I not had those professor's words somewhere in the back of my mind, I think I would have done something different. I might have wound up in the fashion industry or done something that seemed a bit more sensible. And I think that now it's later, it's 20-30 years later, I think that everything about me is not sensible and I needed to adhere to that. So, his piece of advice and my piece of advice to sort of add to that for any young poets, poetry is about writing very, very well and studying your craft and doing all that you can to understand this beautiful art form. But in addition to that, it's also about a person's tenacity. A person's will to want to continue on in this very, very difficult art form. And also, a very difficult industry or career because we do have to support our self through this. I think it's just that aspect of it that feels very difficult, so if someone can persist through all of that, then you know the art form and the career get to marry one another. And I think that is the piece of advice. I hope I can pass on to someone since it has been incredibly valuable to me.
Cheseldine: Well, I'm glad you kept writing.
Chang: Thank you! I'm glad I kept writing too, thank you so much.
Lynn Melnick
Cheseldine: We're here on the Highline with Lynn Melnick, one of our great poets, who's going to be reading at the New York Poetry Festival. And we're just going to ask a few questions about poetry and what the city means to you.
Melnick: Thanks! Thanks for having me.
Cheseldine: Thanks for being here! So, so much of your poetry is about the intersections of your life. I was wondering how you draw the line between being a writer and having experiences in the world, and where that sits?
Melnick: Well, that's a good question. Mostly what I write is autobiographical. Most of the time, I sort of write my ancient history, so it doesn't really interfere with my current life. Sometimes, I write about things that are happening right now, but I'm also sort of dreadfully good at compartmentalizing. So, I just sort of put all the crap in the poem, and then I can go off and be sort of a functioning person like 80% of the time.
Cheseldine: So, lots of your poetry asks, when we should speak, when we're allowed to speak, and when we're not allowed to speak. And I just wondered how your roles as a teacher and an activist, and your world in the arts, play alongside your role as a poet as well?
Melnick: Because I spent so much of my earlier life, not speaking, actually speaking up in my poetry saved me and used to save me. And I felt really strongly about just writing my truth and telling my story. And it sort of spills over into my life as an activist because I can't shut up about certain things. It all sort of blends together, it's all of a piece. In my personal life, I feel the need to say what is true to me. I think to acknowledge certain truths even when they're painful is what will ultimately make them right.
Cheseldine: I was wondering about your relationship to revise your poems and the writing process if you could tell us a bit about that.
Melnick: I love revising. Revising is my favorite thing, and I think that I drive my students crazy because I make them revise a lot. When I write, I sort of vomit everything out onto the page because if I don't do it quick enough, I feel like I'm going to miss something that I need to say. And then I shape it endlessly. I tinker with things endlessly. That's why I'm slow at writing because I want it to be absolutely perfect. Revising, I think it is exhilarating. And that's what I try to tell my students. You can take something good and make it extraordinary, and why not do that. It's so worth it, and it's exciting, it's my favorite hobby. I think it's addictive. And that's actually a problem too. Because then I turn to my manuscript and then I'm like, well let me change this one word or this column and then it's a book.
I emailed my editor a few months ago, and I was like, "If we go into another printing, can we just maybe change this one piece of punctuation?"
She's very patient. She was like, "Sure."
But it is addictive because art is living, and it can always be made better. And the feeling that you're never done with something stressful but also comforting at the same time.
Cheseldine: So, I wanted to ask you a bit about your Americana in your poems, this kind of pick-up trucks and rusted basketball hoops, and what your relationship to that nostalgia means?
Melnick: That's a good question, and that does come into my last book, Landscape with Sex and Violence quite a lot. And in my next manuscript even more so, which I wrote after Trump was elected. And so, I was sort of talking a lot about Americanness and what it means. I also lived in Los Angeles in the 1980s, which I think was a particularly horrible time for American pride and a particularly horrible place for it. Like we felt really good about ourselves while the country was just sort of going to shit. And I think those are the images that are so much in my last book of the things that we were supposed to be very proud of and feel really good about but were really just really dark and horrible. And so, the kind of idea of Americanness versus the reality of Americanness is something that I'm always interested in. Just like I'm always the same way with anything that I write about – the sort of lies we tell ourselves about who we are personally, and also about our country, and fellow citizens, and all of that. Because the last book what I was writing about was so much part of the uncertain part of the time during the 1980s, it was the tail end of the Cold War, and we were kind of winning. Everyone was feeling really good about ourselves, it sort of brought out the true grossness of pride in ourselves. Because America is a shit show. We're sort of seeing that more now that we're in this mess in with Trump, but it was always there. Now the bad parts are just free to announce themselves and crap all over us, instead of doing it privately.
Cheseldine: Now, please say some nice things about New York City!
Melnick: I have almost but nothing to say but nice things about New York City. I love New York City. I've lived here for 25 years this month. I definitely believe this city saved me, and I love it. It's always surprising to me, it's always energizing to me, I'm raising my kids here, which seems like a gift. I had this wonderful moment where I was driving in from the airport, we were going along one of the side streets, all the way from Queens to Brooklyn where I live. And we passed like every neighborhood and all different kinds of people. And I was so filled with this desperate love for this city. I was like I can't believe I feel this way. Like I'm constantly falling in love with it, and I can't imagine feeling any different. Plus, I don't know how to drive, and this is the only place in America where you don't need a car.
Cheseldine: So that must be really good for your writing, that kind of constant beginning and refreshing. Is there any particular reason why you like to write?
Melnick: You know I mostly write at home. I don't have a desk. I write on my couch. Lately, I've been taking my laptop to coffee houses because my kids are home for the summer, and they're driving me bananas. So, I can write in a coffee shop, but I prefer to write at home because it feels safe to me, and what I write about are really unsafe scary things. So, I don't want to be sitting at the library crying or having this sort of overwhelming moment. And also, when you're writing at home, when you get stuck you can just go do dishes or something, which is very helpful for me. But the city is very inspiring to me. I don't write a whole lot about it. I tend to write about what complicates me and what makes me confused and anxious. I almost always feel completely in love with the city, so I'm great at love poems. That's why I start writing more about Los Angeles than New York City. But obviously, New York has shaped me, I've lived here longer than anywhere else. It feels like home to me. I feel comfortable here.
It's hard to write about it when you're in it, it's like I was saying before. Most of what I was writing about is mostly ancient history for me because it's hard to write about trauma or really almost anything when you're right in the middle of it. I've done it a couple of times, but that distance is nice. But also, just being in a place that just makes me feel so safe and loved. Like I do feel very loved by this city. To me, it's like a living thing. Not to be corny, but to be a headliner at the Poetry Festival is really special to me because New York is my heart.
Cheseldine: On that note, do you have any corny advice for the corny aspiring writers?
Melnick: Making it in the city and just existing in the city is just really hard. I've lived here for 25 years; I'm still barely making it. As far as writing goes, I always tell this to my students and my younger students find this horrific – I published my first book when I was thirty-nine. Which you know, when you're twentysomething sometimes, it doesn't happen right away. The type of poems I was writing were not trendy for a long time, and people weren't all that interested in what I did. But you have to be true to yourself, so you write what you write for you. It's not that I don't want people to read it because I do, and I want people to buy my books, but I also need to write what I need to write. So, I guess that leaves me with the other thing that I would say, which is that as a writer, even just as a person, you know who you are. Don't forget who you are and don't let other people define who you are. I think that's a risk because we want to fit in, and we see other people succeeding, and they're writing this kind of poem, and we want that, but I really think we know who we are. How we write and how we're supposed to be writing for ourselves, and so that would be my advice. Stick with it and don’t expect that everything is going to happen right away. You can still be old like me and still publish your books. It will still work out fine. Not everyone will get everything right away.
I think it's hard because social media makes it look like everyone is doing all these really wonderful things all the time. This is not true, like five people are doing really wonderful things all the time, I'm convinced of it. Karmically they must have done something great. But the rest of us are doing really wonderful things some of the time, and the rest of the time, we're doing boring bullshit that has to be done.
