Mycocosmic is in the field

My book-spore have been released! Like all wild things, they’re not as calendar-driven in their dispersal as an author might pretend. Tupelo people and I agreed that the official launch date would be March 4th because Tuesdays are traditional in the industry and “march forth” sounds cute–that’s when the local party happens (Downtown Books, Lexington VA, 5-7 pm). But keen foragers have already collected my sixth full-length poetry book, Mycocosmic, because the “launch” actually comes after “publication” and only somewhere around the “release.” Right now Tupelo’s distributor, University of Chicago Press, simply says “2025” and that Mycocosmic is now available in print or as an ebook; Amazon and Bookshop.org say “March 1.” Chicago also offers a “for instructors” tab for course adopters and Tupelo’s own site provides a free reader’s guide under the course adoption tab. These manifestations can look as complex as mycelium and, from my low-to-the-ground perspective, almost as mysterious, but the weather is clear enough now to announce the upshot: the book is out there in troops (did you know “troop” is the collective noun for mushrooms?).

I’m already warmed by its reception. I’m wildly thankful to all who have supported me and my writing for during the years this project fermented underground. Thanks to the Tupelo people, cover artist Pearl Cowan, and to all the bloggers, bookstores, festival organizers, conference planners, and event programmers who said yes. Praise to magazine editors and anthologists for their encouragement, and to interviewers and reviewers coming to my project with all their smarts and enthusiasm. Yeah, sure, the book already has a long acknowledgments page–I’m a fan of acknowledgments and all the occluded networks they render visible–but I have to say again, publishing is a time-consuming and intensely collaborative effort, whether you’re self-publishing, working with an indie, or ushered fabulously into print by one of the giant conglomerates. I think often of scholar Jack Stillinger’s book title The Myth of Solitary Genius. We don’t work alone. Poetry is a long-running conversation, symbiotic, with tendrils sprouting everywhere.

The latest: William Woolfitt was kind enough to run a little interview about Mycocosmic on the website Speaking of Marvels this week. Donna Fleischer just reviewed it for The Compulsive Reader: “The Western world’s natural philosophy unity of science, art, and theology, split apart by the Enlightenment, renews in this poetry…Wheeler surprises us into wonder.” Whoa! My gratitude also to Rob McClennan for featuring Mycocosmic on his blog: “Across a sequence of finely-honed lyrics, Wheeler writes of what connects and what falls free, of what holds together and what isn’t possible.” That’s been the deep work of my life these last few years–figuring out how to release the painful parts of my past, the better to concentrate on the good stuff.

Meanwhile, I spent this academic break week grading, recording a podcast, beginning to draft my keynote for the April “Fermentations” conference, and juggling a bunch of logistics for travel and teaching. I received a couple of festival acceptances but a bunch of rejections, too, from magazines and residencies. Most of the time I’m surprised by what connects and what falls free, as Rob puts it. Mycelium is a good metaphor for literary life, as well as other forces. So much of what nourishes and thwarts us operates as if underground, with long dormancies and miraculous eruptions.

Meanwhile, connectivity. Some event fliers are below and I’m keeping my Events page up to date. Here I go, no longer hiding on the forest floor but barding around…