My career path at Hallmark took many byways, through various product lines and management responsibilities. Yet, I ended up where I began, as a full-time writer for greeting cards, Christmas ornament boxes, puzzles, calendars, children’s books, and, as technology rolled in, e-greetings. I loved it, and the company, too.
One of my professors in college, unimpressed with my writing skills, asked me “Just what do you want to write?” “Poetry, ” I said. “You’ll starve,” he said. Lucky for me, having a paying job–as writer!–with good benefits enabled me to pursue my personal writing, in an attempt to become a “real poet.” How do you know when you become a “real poet”? Who knows? My first poetry publication, in The Lyric magazine, sometime in the 70s, was exhilarating. My poems. With my name attached.
As a young poet, I hoped eventually to write well enough to get into the conversation. That is, to connect with others–peers, mentors, poets I admired. I wrote fan letters. I attended poetry readings, conferences, and workshops. I made friends. A poet as esteemed as Richard Wilbur was not above writing kind notes to an aspiring young woman. I explored my own style and voice. Hopelessly out of step with the literary trend in open forms, I continued to stick mainly with formal traditions, including rhyme and meter. I worked diligently at my craft, in both commercial and literary worlds. Eventually it all added up to a considerable body of published poems–and a wonderful network of poetry friends.
Perhaps this site could be called, “Where do poems come from?”
I’ll be sharing my sources of inspiration, random musings, and thoughts related to topics as diverse as weight management, religion, fine art, and world peace. Look for the links to my activities in pursuit of these life issues, along with my poems old and new. I’m planning on having fun here, and I invite you to enjoy this life along with me.
WHAT’S IN A NAME?
My name is Loots. It rhymes with boats
and goats and stoats and grunting shoats.
Amused, the muse of whimsy dotes
on me, and on her spelling gloats.
So, in the literary notes,
after my nerve and bone have turned to motes
of dust, and critics cast their votes
(announced by satellite remotes
with utmost praise and ample quotes)
for those to celebrate as potes,
let all with ears to hear say, Loots!
My present husband’s name is Dickinson. I declined to adopt that name on account of its being taken already by a poet you may have heard of. And also on account of too many boxes to fill in on a government form, if you want to know the truth.
We live in Kansas City, Missouri, in a 1908 house we bought together when we married in 2013. We are both retired from professional careers. His time is devoted to various home maintenance projects, a given considering the age of the house. My time is devoted to…well, I don’t exactly know. That’s retirement for you. We both volunteer as Docents, leading school tours mostly, for the renowned Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art.
We worship with the Presbyterians at Second Church. We cater to a cat named Bob.
Welcome to my world!