Artful Academics: Ghosted→

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In 7th grade I was in love with a boy named “Jimmy.” I still remember the heat of our kiss in a deserted hallway during a high school basketball game. Given that I was 12 years old, he should have been my first kiss, but he was my 2nd  or maybe even 3rd depending on what counts as a real kiss. Because I’m that kind of girl. The kind of girl who wore short skirts, tight jeans, and black mascara.

The kind of teenager whose parents fretted because she was so boy crazy. “You’re going to end up pregnant!” said my mom. “You’ve already had more than your fair share of boyfriends!” said my dad.

The kind of girl, a guy once told me, that boys would fuck but would never marry.

And so it was that even though I was desirable, like most other teenagers, there was no shortage of time I spent waiting by the black rotary phone that was never going to ring.

The funny thing about my on-again/off-again teenaged romance with Jimmy was that almost always he was the one who would pursue me, and then a few weeks later would dump me for no apparent reason. Usually he’d have another boy give me the news. The sudden silence on his part was akin to the more contemporary phenomena of ghosting—typically when a romantic interest suddenly cuts off all contact without explanation.

Continue reading at https://reckonreview.com/wind-and-root-mccann-9/

Artful Academics: A Sermon and Prompt for An End Time→

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The world is changing. The wheel is turning. The tower is crumbling.

It’s post-pandemic; it’s the dismantling of the old patriarchy; it’s little and big resistances to the-way-things-were everywhere. These are exciting times; these are scary times. We’ve been wandering around in the wilderness for nigh on 40 years now, and sometimes (we hate to admit it) we wonder if we weren’t better off where we were. For all that was problematic or downright awful in the old regime, it was at least familiar. And for some of us who experience privilege of one flavor or another, we knew what to expect, we knew the rules of the game.

Now, no one knows what to expect. We might know what we’re working towards, but nothing is certain about how it will all come together. Audre Lorde told us that we cannot dismantle the master’s house with master’s tools. Some of us looked for a different way. Some of us designed new tools. Some of us are hiding in our bunkers. Some of us are building a different way. Many different ways. There are many different ways, including some regressive folk ways. They are not gone. And they are not going anywhere.

Continue reading at: https://reckonreview.com/wind-and-root-mccann-6/

The Artful Academic: Writing Unspeakable Moments→

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Dissociation is a common experience among those of us who’ve experienced trauma. We’ve all experienced mild out-of-body experiences where we lose touch with the present moment—for example, zoning out during a conversation or binging on a TV series to get respite from a stressful period. Even intensely positive experiences can lead to surreal disconnection when we think, “Is this wonderful thing really happening?”

From a developmental perspective, chronic dissociation, or a dissociative disorder caused by previous trauma, is the feeling of being outside one’s body even when overwhelming events such as those centering on abuse, fear, or shame, are not actively occurring—that is, the out-of-body state is “triggered” by something relatively harmless. Part of my intellectual and therapeutic practice has been learning how to be mindful of when I’m entering a dissociative state. And part of my spiritual practice has been learning to bring myself back into my body through grounding exercises, which can be as simple as standing barefoot outside, or noticing the breath moving in and out of my body.

What’s this got to do with writing? Well, everything, if you’re writing narrative. A story is basically: Something Happens, then Character Responds. 

Continue reading at: https://reckonreview.com/wind-and-root-mccann-5/

Artful Academics: What Are The Odds?→

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I have a math lesson. Wait—bear with me, please!

In an introductory statistics class in graduate school (also taught in 4th grade math in the state of Virginia), one of the first principles we learned is that two unrelated things can be correlated, or seem to have a relationship with one another, just by chance. For instance, if you talked to thousands of people and asked them thousands of questions, you might find that those who have a high IQ also may be more likely to wear red bloomers. Do these two things have a real relationship? That is one of the most basic purposes of statistics: to determine the likelihood that two things are related by accident, or whether they have some sort of real connection (i.e., one caused the other, or a third thing caused both, and so on).

And now it’s story time.

Continue reading at https://reckonreview.com/artful-academics-what-are-the-odds/

Artful Academics: Calling My Energy Back→

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I light a small candle while nodding to my grandmothers whose faces smile out of framed pictures displayed on the table that serves as my home altar. Words of prayer and whispered gratitude are my offering along with some candy. Also on the table are nature treasures given to me by my children and my partner, seasonal flowers, plant matter tincturing in jars, and, in the center, a large candle waiting to be lit.

I’m here this particular moment because I’m writing and I’m stuck—rather I am not writing, but spinning my wheels. I’m researching folk magic traditions in Appalachia these days. The reading is fascinating, and endless, but I need to start putting words on paper. I’m starting to forget things and lose the thread of earlier energy bursts. I have some precious moments to do work on this pet project and I don’t want to waste them by cleaning out my kitchen cupboards or reorganizing my underwear drawer. My energy is diffuse and my mind won’t settle.

So I call my energy back. While thinking of my grandmothers, I visualize a soft, yellow light, a light that encircles me with their love and protection. A light that fills the room. Once I feel safe and my mind starts to calm, I do some hatha yoga—not a traditional Appalachian practice, perhaps, but it’s gaining ground in these parts. These exercises use and channel some of that diffuse energy and help me to feel grounded in my body. I then light the large candle on my table and visualize calling my energy back. By calling my energy back I disentangle myself, for a few protected moments, from all that causes distraction.

Continue reading at: https://reckonreview.com/wind-and-root-mccann-4/

Artful Academics: On Entering the Conversation→

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I sat in the front row and waved my arm. I just couldn’t wait to share my opinion in class discussions. Hardly had another student began expressing themselves when my arm shot up with a half-baked reply. I had something to say and I wanted to say it as soon as possible! It wasn’t until I began teaching that I realized how cringe-worthy this behavior could be and began considering how to more gracefully enter a conversation. I don’t have good manners and it probably took me too long to realize that a basic first step is listening before speaking.

Most of us are writers because we have something to say. Whether we are conscious of it or not, we want to engage in conversation with our readers. We have a story to tell or a thesis to put forth. But because the act of writing is a solitary act, it is easy to forget that we are engaging in a conversation. And like all conversations, listening is just as important as writing.

How do we listen as writers? We do our homework. That is, we do our research.

Continue reading at: https://reckonreview.com/wind-and-root-mccann-3/

Artful Academics: On Methods→

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Among other hobbies, my stepdad, a teacher in our small community in West Virginia, had a side gig as a flea market entrepreneur—think Billy Ray Cyrus t-shirts and clip-on fans. For a number of years flea market paraphernalia was stored in the Book Room. When it was not needed as a bedroom, the Book Room was a dedicated office space. There were books, of course, as well as desks for us kids (there were six of us when we were all together), genealogy binders, a copier, and random office supplies including a huge stack of triplicate forms that had been used as receipts during the market years.

Eight-year-old me was intrigued by these magical forms. Besides spending time in the Book Room, I enjoyed spying on family members, particularly my brothers who were about a year younger than me. Convinced that my step-sister and I were asked to do more housework during those summers when I had longer visits with my mom, I began following our brothers, sneaking around corners with a triplicate firmly attached to a clipboard, taking notes on my brothers’ actions.

In those years, I knew almost nothing about middle class occupations and had no idea that I was a budding social scientist engaging in ethnographic research: but I had a hunch about the inequitable gendered division of labor and I began collecting data. I don’t remember ever completing the scientific method of research—that is, creating a report and sharing it with others, such as my parents. But I never forgot the pleasure of collecting and analyzing data. Presenting my findings would come later.

Continue reading at https://reckonreview.com/wind-and-root-mccann-2/

Artful Academics: On Relational Confluence→

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I’m at my desk in the basement of an old brick house on campus reading through transcripts of interviews with older adults. I focus on the text and ignore the Jacob Marley hiss and banging of heated air moving through the ancient pipes in the building. My work is listening for changes and stability in close relationships; for noting challenges and grit in caregiving dynamics; and for understanding vulnerabilities and resiliency among those who have experienced a lifetime of trauma. When I’m analyzing this interview data from an older person I get a glimpse into their inner world. In creative writing, this inner world is known as interiority.

Interiority speaks to the inner life of “the self” or of a character—their thoughts, motivations, and psychological processes. In Western thought, at least for the last several hundred years, the notion of the self permeates every aspect of our life. And whether I’m reading interviews, or narrating my own experience in creative non-fiction, or creating a fictive character, it is the interiority that gives depth and substance to help us make meaning from stories. For example, in the opening scene of my short story, “Of A Certain Age”, Peg worries about what to wear to church because she has a crush on a newcomer, Jamey. As she’s getting dressed, Peg briefly reflects on her disappointing experiences with dating after widowhood, on the changes her body has experienced post-menopause, and on her decision to make a bold move with Jamey. By sharing her reflections, I wanted to show that Peg is a forthright person who acts decisively.

Continue reading at https://reckonreview.com/wind-and-root-mccann-1/

"The Curse of Clumsy" at Reckon Review→

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I break things. The handle off my favorite coffee mug. The zipper of my fancy purse. I have broken the hearts of people who care about me. 

Just last week, while finishing a cup of sleepy tea, I knocked the teapot with my mug. Tink! I looked down and the tip of the spout was missing. It wasn’t on the counter top, nor could I find it on the floor. I got out the flashlight and looked under the stove and cabinets but couldn’t find the tip anywhere. Without the broken piece, I could not repair the spout. 

The teapot was one my husband had purchased years ago while traveling, and is a pretty thing—cobalt blue with lithe golden irises painted on the side. My husband who is exacting and careful in all things. Always. I thanked all the powers under the stars that it wasn’t one of the much older teapots he’d inherited from his grandfather.

For several days I hid the break by turning the pot so that the missing tip wasn’t obvious, and cursed myself for not being more careful.

Continue reading at https://reckonreview.com/the-curse-of-clumsy/