August 21, 2008

Prized “Bird”
Poet wins Ann Stanford award
By Jeff Mucciarone jmucciarone@hippopress.com

New Hampshire resident LewEllyn Hallett was recently awarded the 2008 Ann Stanford Award for her poetry — specifically for the poem “Little Bird,” which will be published in Southern California Review this fall. Hallett, 54, lives in Bow with her husband and two daughters. She works for New Hampshire Public Radio and stays active with the New Hampshire Writing Project and New Hampshire Poetry Out Loud, which is a statewide program for high school students promoting poetry and writing. She also works as a freelance writer and has been pursuing poetry since she was in high school.

Q:What does winning this award mean to you?
I was very, very pleased. It’s very, very affirming. A lot of times it’s hard to evaluate your own work. I was pretty amazed and just honored. I didn’t know how well [the poems] would be received. It really means a lot. It means that I should keep writing.

Why did you choose to submit “Little Bird?”
I sent out some last summer and I wasn’t really thinking about it. I only sent “Little Bird” to one place and I guess it was the right place.

What do you like about “Little Bird”?
I decided to write a poem about Lily [Hallett’s 15-year-old daughter]. She’s an exceptional person. I started thinking of what she reminded me of. I used to raise birds. They’re something that’s delicate and tiny, but yet full of life and energy. I made that connection.

How has your family played a role in your writing?
They are the fabric of my life. They are subjects. Lily writes herself, so we do that together. She’s a great writer. It gives us a common interest.

How do you deal with writer’s block?
I don’t really think of it as a block. I think of it as poor time management. I don’t think [writer’s block] is really valid. When an idea comes to me, that’s when I try to write. I don’t write poetry for a deadline or anybody else.

What drew you and still draws you to poetry?
I got my degree in creative writing and I didn’t think in terms of poetry. I liked a lot of kinds of writing as well. I did a report in the third grade ... and [my teacher] made such a big deal about it, but because of her encouragement it gave me that “Oh, I can do that,” and you come back to it and you keep working at it. In high school, it was a way to express the usual teenage angst. But this is always something I loved. I worked as a writer in various fields, and I’m removed from making a living as a writer, it’s more an art form and a personal expression. I love that compressed form. You can make an impact in a short space and you hope you’ll communicate something. It’s powerful in that way.

How do you find time for everything?
Yeah, that’s hard. You’ve just got to make time. I’m not a scheduled person. I don’t get up at 5 [a.m.] and write for two hours every morning. I write for myself sporadically.

What do you like about New Hampshire and why have you remained here?
Before I’d been here, I’d never been to New England, but I thought it appealed to me. When I got here, its combination of having access to a lot of things and ... still having a small town feel really impacted me. Even in the cities, you feel that you are part of a small world. I love the outdoor aspects of life here. There’s a great number of writers and artists. That community is so vital. And all the educational resources are all here. Plus, my kids were in the seventh and third grade and we’d moved around a lot. They feel like this is home.

Do you have any plans to put a book together?
Sure. Maybe a chap book, a small book, maybe pull ones that are about my family. Probably right now, I’ll continue to submit single poems. I guess the main emphasis is to keep writing.
— Jeff Mucciarone

Little Bird
Hallet’s award winning poem, first published in the Southern California Reivew

“Little Bird”
for my daughter Lily at 13

I held finches in my hand, weightless,
twig of leg between thumb and forefinger
almost too fine for banding
I felt the peck of a pea-sized heart against my palm
shudder of struggle, then stillness
hesitation at release, then whipping of wings
fury of escape from perch to wire
puff of breath, rapid pumping of a scant teaspoon of blood
Consuming energy in a vessel without substance
Lily, little bird,
brilliant fire burns between her white temples
a heart too huge to bind
flutters in the narrow cage of her ribs
the wings of her shoulders and delicate wrist
encircled by the band of my fingers
fly relentlessly from task to task
Magnitude of life and purpose in a tiny frame
God has chosen the weak things to confound the mighty.