Dr. Bill Everett Featured at Writers' Night Out, July 9 ZOOM

NCWN-West presents
Bill Everett
Writer, Woodworker & Former Ethics Professor

Writers' Night Out via Zoom

July 9, 7 pm
Reading & Discussion + Open Mic

With a Yale Divinity School BD and a Harvard PhD, William Johnson Everett taught ethics in theological seminaries and graduate schools for over 30 years. During that time, he published seven books and many articles in English and German on ethical issues in religion and society. His teaching took him to Milwaukee, Atlanta, and Boston as well as Germany, India, and South Africa. In 2001 he turned to literary fiction, poetry, and woodworking.

This fall Everett’s “expository memoir” Making My Way in Ethics, Worship, and Wood is forthcoming. He frames the book around the cultural contexts that have shaped his life. In Red Clay, Blood River (2008), Everett put his inter-continental experience into a wide-ranging historical novel about connections between America’s “Trail of Tears” and South Africa’s “Great Trek.” The book is written from an ecological standpoint, in which Earth is the narrator. Everett’s poetry collection is Turnings: Poems of Transformation (2013). Both his ethics and his poetry explore the ways we give shape and meaning to our thoughts, feelings, and actions within the mysterious powers of creativity and love that undergird our existence. He also co-authored with his friend John de Gruchy, Sawdust and Soul: A Conversation about Woodworking and Spirituality. For more of his writing, you can follow Everett's blog, www.WilliamEverett.com.

Everett also creates furniture for worship settings, focusing on round communion tables that symbolize circle dynamics of reconciliation. Visit www.WisdomsTable.net for more information and to see photos of his work and also the textiles and mosaics of his wife Sylvia, who uses these media to explore spiritual, religious, and feminist themes. He and Sylvia live in Waynesville, NC.  

Zoom Link & Open Mic
3-4 minute maximum of poetry or prose (2 poems only, please)

For the Zoom link, please email Glenda Beall.  To sign up for Open Mic, please send Glenda an email with a sentence she can use to introduce you. glendabeall@msn.com

Writers' Night Out is on the second Friday of every month.

We will continue via Zoom for now. 
 

 Some time in 2021, we hope to continue in person at our new location:

The Ridges Resort on Lake Chatuge 
so please check your email.

 

But don't wait, join the fun and camaraderie on Zoom! 

Upcoming guests:
Aug 13: Kanute Rarey
September 10: Michael Diebert
Oct 8: John Clarke (from England!)

Photographs and Poetry - a post from the past

This is a post from the past by William Everett. He is author of Red Clay, Blood River (2008) and TURNINGS: Poems of Transformation

He blogs at www.WilliamEverett.com.

Click  here and read the work on this blog by this outstanding poet who lives here in the WNC mountains. 

Have you visited Bill Everett's site?

Thanksgiving seems to get lost in the greed we see on Black Friday. Our most precious days are ruined by the commercialism our country seems to need.


William Everett is a writer and poet and a member of Netwest. I recommend his post on Thanksgiving.
Click here.

SYLVA COFFEE WITH THE POETS FEATURES WILLIAM EVERETT

(William Everett at the July Coffee With the Poets)

On August 19 City Lights Bookstore will welcome poet and fiction writer William Everett as guest. Bill is a Netwest member, the author of eight books and many poems. He will read and talk about his journey as a writer, his creative process, and engage participants in their own ways of accessing their voices. The event will take place in the Regional Room of City Lights at 10:30. After a break for lunch, there will be a two hour writing workshop at 1:30. Participants should bring copies of one poem or excerpt of prose for discussion.

Bill maintains a website (www.williameverett.com) which I highly recommend visiting. Here is his announcement of his visit to City Lights next week. You will have to go to his site to read the second poem!

On Thursday, August 19, I will be reading and reflecting on my poetry at 10:30 am for the “Coffee with the Poets” group at City Lights Bookstore, Sylva, NC. The poet’s group is just one of several under the umbrella of the Netwest Mountain Writers, affiliated with the North Carolina Writers Network. (Check outwww.netwestwriters.blogspot.com.) We are convened by Kay Byer, a former NC Poet Laureate, who has graciously encouraged me to reflect on my thirty years of often hidden poetry writing. As I have been reflecting on this welcome task, two poems popped up that I thought I’d share with you. They both involve the quirky, unexpected way that poems elude our normal patterns of perception and expression. I thought you might enjoy them.

I Love That Poetry

Do you like poetry? I asked.

Oh yes, he said. Last year I went to see a poet

Maya Angelou and she was beautiful.

The curtain opened and the spotlight lit upon her hair,

not white, but lustrous gray.

She wore a long crushed velvet dress, much like a kaftan,

bell shaped sleeves descending to wide cuffs

embroidered with a band that looked like kinte cloth.

A long string of pearls draped down from her broad shoulders,

picking up the highlights in her hair.

She was surrounded by a bank of ferns that reached up to her waist

as she sat down among them.

The ferns were like extensions of the dress. They billowed like her hair.

Oh, it was gorgeous. I just love that poetry.

I’m glad you liked it, passed my lips. Perhaps you might cut off a little more

above my ears. I want to look my best tomorrow night.

Coffee with the Poets at City Lights in Sylva

I appreciate those who came to hear my reading today.

Coffee with the Poets at City Lights Books in Sylva started with a bang. Newt Smith, Treasurer for Netwest, served as MC for the reading. Kathryn Stripling Byer was not able to attend today.

Cynthia Gallinger, William Everett, Pat Montee

Mary Mike Keller and Rosemary Royston from Young Harris, GA made the trip over the mountains. Both shared poetry with the group which included William Everett, author of Red Clay, Blood River,and Pat Montee, wife of the late Ralph Montee, writer and poet. It was especially nice to see Pat again, in pink above.

From right, Newt Smith, Chris Wilcox, Diana Jurss, Rosemary Royston, Mary Mike Keller.

William and I have been communicating by E-mail for two years, and finally met today. I am very disappointed that both times Bill came to Hayesville I had to be out of town and was unable to see his presentation of his book in which he uses music and a professional actress.
Diana Jurss is the featured reader for the next Coffee with the Poets in Sylva. Her book is forthcoming in August. Cynthia Gallinger was also present today. I look forward to next month's CWP at City Lights. Perhaps other poets and writers will come and share their work at Open Mic.

Chris Wilcox, owner of City Lights, could not have been nicer and more accomodating. We bought books and sold books.

The refreshments were delicious, and we had an informal opportunity to discuss our opinions about poetry, line breaks, reading aloud and reading on the page. After the reading, some of us went downstairs to the Spring Street Restaurant were we had excellent service and excellent food.r more information on Coffee with the Poets in Sylva, contact Newt Smith, smithnewton@gmail.com or Chris at more@citylightsnc.com

CONVERSATIONS: William Everett

I'm trying a new feature on the blog today, one tentatively called Conversations, in which a writer's offering is posted for comments and responses. These need not be "critiques," as such, though I think most writers would welcome intelligent suggestions. Rather, this is to be a way for authors here in the mountains and elsewhere to engage each other in lively discussions of their work. The first feature is a poem by William Everett, novelist, essayist, scholar and poet. His website is www.williameverett.com. PLEASE LEAVE YOUR COMMENTS. LET'S SEE IF WE CAN GET A CONVERSATION GOING ACROSS THESE RIDGES!

She is ready,

purse packed,

hands pocketed in resolution,

standing by her charge.

Will she fly through puffball clouds,

piercing azure heavens like a needle?

Or will she cruise majestically across the land,

blowing tumbleweeds and sagebrush in her wake?

Perhaps the sea shall feel the power of her legs,

the undulations of her mermaid form.

For she is ready,

her glowing hair pinned sleekly back,

the keys clutched in her hand.

She is the girl with the ’55 Plymouth fins.

---William Everett

FaVORITE APPALACHIAN NOVEL: The Silence of Snakes

The following arrived this morning from Bill Everett. Thanks a lot, Bill. It's good to be reminded of Lewis Green's work.

--William Everett

I was awakened to the peculiar depth of Appalachian writing by Lewis Green’s The Silence of Snakes (1984). We were building our home on the slopes of Wolf Pen Mountain, near Waynesville, when an old friend recommended that I read a tale set where we had decided to live. The Silence of Snakes is the tragic story of a traumatized World War I hero, Earl Skiller, whose sufferings lead him to a series of gruesome murders in which the line between military heroism and depraved criminality disappears, exposing the two-edged sword of civilized “order.”

Through Green’s story I could see the life deep within these rocks and trees. I met the rattlesnakes that symbolize for Earl Skiller the secret depth of his life. As he told his fellow soldiers, “…I could turn into a rattlesnake in my mind, and then I could come and go and do my damage and nobody watched. I learned a big lesson once from rattlesnakes. … They’re silent in spite of the rattles. They’re silent at the right time. They can do a lot of damage. If they’re silent and it’s dark, then who can see ‘em?”

And I felt the ragged edge of mountain humor. Hear these lines between the discoverer of one of Skiller’s victims and the local physician. “We need fer ye to come and announce somebody dead. Some son-of-a bitch killed Mitchell Sanger. They cut his head off.” “Is that a fact? he finally asked. “Cut his head off?” “Yes sir.” “Well, I don’t have to go up there. I can tell you from here that he’s dead.”

Because of this book, the power to speak of place and of the crushing conflicts out of which humanity is hewed have remained the hallmarks of the writing in these hills.

------------------------

William Everett retired from 35 years of teaching ethics in order to write and make furniture in Waynesville, NC. He is the author of Red Clay, Blood River (2008) and numerous poems, the most recent appearing in Fresh. He blogs at www.WilliamEverett.com.

REMEMBERING RIGHTLY, by William Everett

( Photograph by Louanne Watley)

William Everett retired from 35 years of teaching ethics in order to write and make furniture in Waynesville, NC. He is the author of Red Clay, Blood River (2008) and numerous poems, the most recent appearing in Fresh. He blogs at www.WilliamEverett.com.
Remembering Rightly

I have been salvaging our old photographs by digitizing them for future generations. In my efforts I have been brought back to the ways we try to organize our lives between our past and possible futures. In our imaginations we enter a world of story untouched by ordinary history. I tried to catch this slip between the folds of objectivity in this little poem:

There is a space between chapters,
a crack in the spine,
an empty space
where two pages meet
and disappear
into a hidden abyss
where things are sewn invisibly together.

Some memory is driven by pain, fear, and anger. We have memories that we seek to flee, avenge, or obliterate. Other memories are driven by love – memories of joyous events, Edens of new beginnings, of children, spouse, and friend. In my own case, the old slides produced this poem driven by a memory of love.

Like a Russian doll
she wears each passage of her life in polymorphous coats.
She is the wise companion, etched by years of circling suns,
the woman burnished silver with accomplishment,
the mate with auburn hair and radiant eyes,
the holder of the household lamp,
the mother of the squirming baby nestling at her breast,
the college ingénue with voice of lark and witty tongue,
the pigtail girl in the taffeta dress,
the urchin hanging from her knees and laughing at her dad.

They hide,
a manifold of nesting forms
around the holy light within
each one the doll,
each one the woman that I love.

For some, the “crack in the spine” is full of fear and pain, for others, joys and Russian dolls forgotten in the daily grind. Most of us will find a mixture where we seek an alchemy to compound futures out of right remembrance.
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William Johnson Everett
465 Harriett's Trail
Waynesville, NC 28786
828-452-0965
Subscribe to my blog at http://www.williameverett.com/.
Explore Red Clay, Blood River at http://www.redclaybloodriver.com/.