First Aid Box
by Jenny Drai
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Hi Jenny,
What can you tell us about Jenny Drai the writer, the person who has lived all over the place and has worked all sorts of odd jobs? I’m an accidental poet. I started writing as a child, but only fiction. I wrote novels, stories, you name it, but I also planned a lot of novels, series of novels even, that I never wrote. Historical fiction and fantasy, mostly. I think I enjoyed the world-building aspect most of all. I drew maps, made charts, wrote extensive character bios. But at some point, college I think, I sort of got caught up in poetry. And others pointed me almost exclusively in that direction. After college, I tried my hand at writing fiction again, but nothing good came out. I was quite stuck in that overtly autobiographical, literary realism mode. But I seemed to do a better job with poetry and so kept going with that. I never really stopped thinking about writing fiction though. In fact, since moving to Germany four years ago with my husband for his job, I have written more fiction than poetry. And now I can say I’m glad my earlier work never caught on. I’ve had the freedom to come into my own as a fiction writer in almost total obscurity. I’ve recently completed a novel and I am working on finishing a collection of short stories. And happily, while I would definitely say my writing rings emotionally true, I’m not stuck in my own life anymore. Which feels really freeing and exhilarating. I enjoy making things up, even if I am tackling themes that affect me on a personal level, for example the intersection of mental illness with daily life. |
Photo: courtesy of the artist |
I’m also trying to write some stuff just for fun without the intent of seeking publication, which feels essential for some reason. To that end I’ve slowly started what I guess I will just call lyric blogging. So much of my self-image has been wrapped up in writing for publication for so long, but I recently found myself caught up in a rejection spiral, so I’ve been trying to remind myself that it’s actually the creative process I enjoy most. In that vein I also take photographs and post some of them on my blog. They’re okay but not great. And I knit, sort of, but only square things.
As for the odd jobs and living all over the place, that’s much less exciting than it seems. It’s even been a bit destabilizing. I like adventure, sort of, but I need regularity to stay sane. Unfortunately, though, I have experienced both a lot of geographic and professional upheaval. But writing is a constant thing, and maybe that’s one of the reasons I enjoy doing it so much. I feel both very alive and most like myself when I am writing.
How do you manage time, energy, and dedication to ensure that you take care of mundane stuff without neglecting your need to write and create?
Not altogether well, to be honest. Historically, I have let a lot of the mundane stuff go. But that’s not good either, so now I am working on achieving balance and I do find that paying attention to the mundane stuff actually helps alleviate stress. Mostly I think the answer to your question is that I lead a very disciplined and highly boring life.
I wake up and go to bed at the same time every day. I don’t go out a lot. I exercise regularly and eat a healthy diet. I spend about ten minutes every day putting the clutter in my house away. I have a morning journaling routine. Basically, I just try and create this stabile, organized world, which then pushes back the chaos in my head and frees up a lot of space and energy to create.
In a weird way, having been forced to develop a self-care routine for schizoaffective disorder has helped me become more productive as a writer. The things I need to do for myself on either front overlap quite a bit.
As for achieving balance between paying work and writing, well, that’s been the struggle of my life. I have no real answers for you there. But I have learned to say no and that I sometimes need to put myself first because if I don’t, no one else will.
One of your poetry books is titled The History Worker. What’s at the essence of this publication?
I worked at a historical consultancy once and my employer told me fairly early on how I should approach the documents I read: by interrogating them. And since then I’ve approached everything I read as well as the events of the historical record as entities with whom I can have a conversation. As if I can dig in and work at them and draw them out. In effect, this is what any sort of analysis boils down to, I think.
In The History Worker I engage with my family’s history of immigration from various regions in Europe. It was all triggered by a visit to Hearst Castle somehow. As well as the boilerplate, very incomplete version of US history I learned back in the 1980s in elementary school. And realizing that the history I learned is a living thing that can and should be interrogated.
Wine Dark is another of your books. What an awesome title, by the way. What set of events or collective of characters inspired this book?
The title is a nod to Homer, of course, and the whole idea of epic. But for me, the true epic is how we figure out how to get through our daily lives. How we balance the mundane stuff, as you called it, with the bigger stuff that makes us feel alive.
I wrote the early drafts of the poems that would make up Wine Dark at a time when I felt rather at sea in an emotional sense. Hence the nod to the wine dark sea in the title of the book. At the same time, I was experiencing sailing for the first time, and on the Pacific to boot. And the sailboat heels over in the water a bit—that’s how it’s supposed to work—but to me it felt literally as if I were losing the ground below me. So the poems in Wine Dark, they engage both with the literal ocean, which is overwhelming and masterful in its power over us, and with situations where the overwhelming quality of it all is more purely an emotional reality. The book also includes a number of persona poems. Scheherazade, Heloise (of Heloise and Abelard fame), Jane Eyre, and Elizabeth of Bathory guide the reader on the journey.
What type of literary works do you prefer as a reader?
I am a voracious and eclectic reader. Right now I read more fiction than poetry though. I especially enjoy work that engages with history, myth, fairy tales, or blends genre or form. Grief Is This Thing With Feathers by Max Porter and How to Be Both by Ali Smith are all-time favorites. I just finished Marlon James’ fantasy novel Black Leopard, Red Wolf and am in the middle of Gingerbread by Helen Oyeyemi. I also want to read more Octavia Butler and reread Ursula LeGuin. I enjoy graphic novels, too. And I am always up for the latest Beowulf adaptation or translation.
Why is literature relevant in today’s world? What are the most relevant literary works according to you?
Literature feels like a good way to be in conversation with the world we live in and the people who populate that world. And, importantly, to be in conversation with the interior lives of those people, which is something sometimes missing from TV or film where the story is usually told through dialogue. But not everyone can or wants to tell us who they are through the medium of external speech. We get that in writing though. So that’s the relevance in my opinion.
What the most relevant literary works are though, I just don’t think I’m qualified to say. I do think it’s worth pointing out that for a lot of people, reading is a highly pleasurable activity. And literature, making it, experiencing it, feels like a wonderful way to celebrate joy, survival, and the fact that we often find ways to work through pain and sorrow and create beauty from it.
Do you have a favorite word or expression now?
Yes! We recently adopted an indoor cat from a German animal shelter and I am in full-on cat mode at the moment. The Germans have a colloquial expression for house cats…Stubentiger…which translates literally to “parlor tiger.” Which is perfect for this cat, who is big and brawny and aggressively friendly. He claims space. We called our old cat, Stanley, whom we brought with us from the US, “lap panther,” but that doesn’t feel quite right for Flocke, who is German and needs something more German to describe him, I think.
The following poem is from a book-length project I’ve recently finished up. I’m finally exploring my many complex and sometimes complicated feelings about psychiatry and antipsychotic medication, which I take. Originally published in Queen Mob’s Tea House.
As for the odd jobs and living all over the place, that’s much less exciting than it seems. It’s even been a bit destabilizing. I like adventure, sort of, but I need regularity to stay sane. Unfortunately, though, I have experienced both a lot of geographic and professional upheaval. But writing is a constant thing, and maybe that’s one of the reasons I enjoy doing it so much. I feel both very alive and most like myself when I am writing.
How do you manage time, energy, and dedication to ensure that you take care of mundane stuff without neglecting your need to write and create?
Not altogether well, to be honest. Historically, I have let a lot of the mundane stuff go. But that’s not good either, so now I am working on achieving balance and I do find that paying attention to the mundane stuff actually helps alleviate stress. Mostly I think the answer to your question is that I lead a very disciplined and highly boring life.
I wake up and go to bed at the same time every day. I don’t go out a lot. I exercise regularly and eat a healthy diet. I spend about ten minutes every day putting the clutter in my house away. I have a morning journaling routine. Basically, I just try and create this stabile, organized world, which then pushes back the chaos in my head and frees up a lot of space and energy to create.
In a weird way, having been forced to develop a self-care routine for schizoaffective disorder has helped me become more productive as a writer. The things I need to do for myself on either front overlap quite a bit.
As for achieving balance between paying work and writing, well, that’s been the struggle of my life. I have no real answers for you there. But I have learned to say no and that I sometimes need to put myself first because if I don’t, no one else will.
One of your poetry books is titled The History Worker. What’s at the essence of this publication?
I worked at a historical consultancy once and my employer told me fairly early on how I should approach the documents I read: by interrogating them. And since then I’ve approached everything I read as well as the events of the historical record as entities with whom I can have a conversation. As if I can dig in and work at them and draw them out. In effect, this is what any sort of analysis boils down to, I think.
In The History Worker I engage with my family’s history of immigration from various regions in Europe. It was all triggered by a visit to Hearst Castle somehow. As well as the boilerplate, very incomplete version of US history I learned back in the 1980s in elementary school. And realizing that the history I learned is a living thing that can and should be interrogated.
Wine Dark is another of your books. What an awesome title, by the way. What set of events or collective of characters inspired this book?
The title is a nod to Homer, of course, and the whole idea of epic. But for me, the true epic is how we figure out how to get through our daily lives. How we balance the mundane stuff, as you called it, with the bigger stuff that makes us feel alive.
I wrote the early drafts of the poems that would make up Wine Dark at a time when I felt rather at sea in an emotional sense. Hence the nod to the wine dark sea in the title of the book. At the same time, I was experiencing sailing for the first time, and on the Pacific to boot. And the sailboat heels over in the water a bit—that’s how it’s supposed to work—but to me it felt literally as if I were losing the ground below me. So the poems in Wine Dark, they engage both with the literal ocean, which is overwhelming and masterful in its power over us, and with situations where the overwhelming quality of it all is more purely an emotional reality. The book also includes a number of persona poems. Scheherazade, Heloise (of Heloise and Abelard fame), Jane Eyre, and Elizabeth of Bathory guide the reader on the journey.
What type of literary works do you prefer as a reader?
I am a voracious and eclectic reader. Right now I read more fiction than poetry though. I especially enjoy work that engages with history, myth, fairy tales, or blends genre or form. Grief Is This Thing With Feathers by Max Porter and How to Be Both by Ali Smith are all-time favorites. I just finished Marlon James’ fantasy novel Black Leopard, Red Wolf and am in the middle of Gingerbread by Helen Oyeyemi. I also want to read more Octavia Butler and reread Ursula LeGuin. I enjoy graphic novels, too. And I am always up for the latest Beowulf adaptation or translation.
Why is literature relevant in today’s world? What are the most relevant literary works according to you?
Literature feels like a good way to be in conversation with the world we live in and the people who populate that world. And, importantly, to be in conversation with the interior lives of those people, which is something sometimes missing from TV or film where the story is usually told through dialogue. But not everyone can or wants to tell us who they are through the medium of external speech. We get that in writing though. So that’s the relevance in my opinion.
What the most relevant literary works are though, I just don’t think I’m qualified to say. I do think it’s worth pointing out that for a lot of people, reading is a highly pleasurable activity. And literature, making it, experiencing it, feels like a wonderful way to celebrate joy, survival, and the fact that we often find ways to work through pain and sorrow and create beauty from it.
Do you have a favorite word or expression now?
Yes! We recently adopted an indoor cat from a German animal shelter and I am in full-on cat mode at the moment. The Germans have a colloquial expression for house cats…Stubentiger…which translates literally to “parlor tiger.” Which is perfect for this cat, who is big and brawny and aggressively friendly. He claims space. We called our old cat, Stanley, whom we brought with us from the US, “lap panther,” but that doesn’t feel quite right for Flocke, who is German and needs something more German to describe him, I think.
The following poem is from a book-length project I’ve recently finished up. I’m finally exploring my many complex and sometimes complicated feelings about psychiatry and antipsychotic medication, which I take. Originally published in Queen Mob’s Tea House.
Antipsychotica
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I would like to fill myself
with definite meaning. A brief history of psychiatry-- seemed like a good idea at the time. A lobotomy patient shot the inventor. Of lobotomies, I mean. Psychosurgery intervention was once awarded the Nobel Prize. Also, the history of evil spirits. Trepanation. Burr holes. Water treatment. I would like to fill myself with self-care instead. Later we meet for coffee. You’re wearing your blue windbreaker. I drink decaf although it’s only 10 am. I tell you as soon as I know it’s me in here. I do want to spill out of this timing. I have normal desires. Please bring me a peach. |
#BeatTheBlues
I have schizoaffective disorder. Or bipolar disorder. Different psychiatrists have had different opinions over the years. And there’s been some post-traumatic stress as well. When it comes down to actual episodes of mental illness, I know by now that I need professional help. And I’ve learned to recognize the signs and ask for that help sooner rather than later. But there are also days when I drop below the threshold of psychological and physical energy I need to maintain in order to want to stay alive. What I’ve learned through experience is that those awful emotions will pass. The trick is how to get through them in the short-term. Turning to a trusted support person can help, but what if no one is around? The last time I was hospitalized, I was given the idea of coming up with a first aid box for mental health crises. During the actual crisis, it’s hard to know what to do. But if the first aid box is ready and waiting, it’s easier to engage with. I had a box in the past and found it really helped. But I’ve gotten away from that, and what do you know, my last short-term mental health crisis was particularly grueling to endure. So yesterday I made a new box. Here’s what I put inside: a deck of cards to play solitaire; aromatherapy spray; pictures of my nieces and nephews; Neil Gaiman’s book Trigger Warning with the short story “Orange” bookmarked; a note telling me to listen to the podcast LeVar Burton Reads; and another note reminding me to turn to my mandala coloring books once I feel a bit calmer. Obviously, everyone has to decide what goes into their own box. That’s part of the beauty of it. The important thing is simply to have it ready before you need it.
#WhatMatters
I’ve figured out recently that though I have huge ambitions when it comes to writing, there’s a lot that falls outside of my control. And that constantly trying to gain control over that which I cannot leads to despair and frustration. For example, I don’t really get to decide if editors, agents, or publishers will take an interest in my work. And if it is published, I can’t force people to read it. This realization, which came after something of a rejection spiral, has changed how I create goals for my writing. At this point, I no longer state goals such as, “to get a literary agent,” or “to publish a novel.” Or win a prize or get accepted in this or that journal or whatever. Instead I concentrate on what I actually have control over. In that vein, I can state as a goal that I’m going to work on my craft—to write, rewrite, revise, and redraft. And this is reflected in my work in the sense that I keep learning and improving. In addition, I can say that I’m going to submit this many times a month or year or whatever. This method of goal-setting feels a little saner and a lot more realistic. It’s gotten me through a rough patch when I genuinely thought about quitting writing. But good friends stepped in and reminded me how much I like doing it. Just the process of writing. And going along with that, I can do all I can to be a good literary citizen and help amplify the work of other writers. After all, I am first and foremost a reader. In fact, maybe that’s what matters most of all.