From the Writing Desk of: Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach
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Baby: Every day is take your child to work day when it comes to being a writer-Mama. Since my newborn, Remy Luray, (sometimes) does long stretches of sleep in between ravenous eating, she can be a great coworker (when she’s not demanding my body for nourishment or pillow-comfort that is). And when she’s not in such a state of relaxed table-lounging, I hold her across my shoulder and try to type with one hand as I pat her back with the other.
Computer: Otherwise known as: “where the magic happens.” While I do have a typical writer’s black moleskin that travels everywhere with me, most of my writing is done on the computer, especially because it can be done onehanded, leaving me free to corral a preschooler or hold a baby with the other. I also prefer typing because my fingers are better at keeping up with my mind, while ink moves slower than the pace of my poetry.
Empty cup: Even in the unbearable heat and humidity of Philly summer, I often like to get an extra-hot latte that I then consume in minutes. Coffee is liquid fuel for composition and motherhood.
Full cup: Because I tend to spend at least three hours at the café, one cup is rarely enough. On the second round, I transition to an iced late or coffee or maybe a hibiscus berry tea, but who am I kidding, it’s usually something caffeinated.
Coffee shop: I am terrible at getting things written at home. Likely because there, I am surrounded by two cats, a dog, and insurmountable piles of dishes and laundry—all the housework I neglect in favor of writing. When at home, this neglect is oppressive, staring at me, weighing me down, and taking me away from the poems. Luckily, Ultimo, the absolute best coffee shop, is only a short 12-minute walk away. Not only is there ample shady outdoor space; a cozy interior full of places to plug in a dying laptop and park even a gigantic double stroller; along with the most delicious array of coffees; but most importantly, there I find a supportive and inspiring community. From the baristas—one of whom has become a dear friend—who humor me by listening to the trials and tribulations of my morning trying to make it out of the house with two kids, to the many other parents who come to work, likely for similar reasons as myself, there is no better spot for an extravert like me to get things accomplished and feel less alone in writing and motherhood—experiences that can both be quite isolating.
Diaper bag: If you need it, it’s probably in the diaper bag taking up the chair where I’d normally be seated. Like the bottomless Mary Poppins bag, it also holds treasures I’ve forgotten about since I used this bag with my now almost four-year-old son—from changes of clothes to random poets’ business cards to contributor copies of literary journals to hardened gummy candies and questionably old snacks, the list could go on. Still, there is always room to cram the laptop and a book inside.
Stroller: Might as well be my preferred mode of transportation. Wherever I go, at least one child accompanies me on all my writing and non-writing related adventures.
Yoga Mat: At least three times a week, I teach Stroller Strides, a Fit4Mom Philly fitness class, where Mamas get to work out with their kids. Getting endorphins going in the morning is the motivation I need to write. For me, fitness is often followed by a flood of creativity.
Dirty Diaper: Because the trashcan isn’t always close by, and the diapers just keep on coming.
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Preschooler: The inspiration behind most everything I’ve written since finding out I was pregnant with my first child. Seeing the way my son Valen interacts with the world, making metaphors as effortlessly as breathing, I am reminded that poetry is everywhere and we are all born poets, but only some of us hold on to this poetry that lives in us all.
Home book shelves: Overflowing with poetry collections, literary magazines, theory texts, novels, and my son’s picture books that have snuck in. He was very keen on pulling MAUS down from the shelf, saying he’d like to hear the story about the “pirate mouse,” but I decided he was still a bit too young for this particularly graphic novel. Not sure how to explain allegory and the Holocaust to a three-year-old just yet.
Phone: I am admittedly addicted to this problematic device full of perpetual social media and email distraction. The only reason it’s not in the frame is that I have to use it to capture this very picture. But aside from allowing me to post far too many pictures of writing with the baby, it’s also helped me create poems by speaking them into the phone as I walk pushing the stroller. I’m out and about so much that being able to speak-type into the phone helps me keep track of ideas that might otherwise be lost in the shuffle of not getting to sit down at my computer.
The Many Names for Mother: Hidden in the side pocket of the diaper back, a tangible copy of my first collection of poems. Now that it exists as a real thing in the real world, I carry it with me in case I run into someone to whom I want to gift the book. This is inspired by my good friend and incredible poet Tina Mozelle Braziel, who unexpectedly ran into Jimmy Carter, and just so happened to have a copy of her Philip Levine prize-winning first collection, Known by Salt, which she proceeded to gift him. You just never know who you will meet while sitting at a coffee shop with your baby. Perhaps, a fellow writer-Mama will come by who could be lifted with poetry, and you just so happen to have a fitting book all about your distinct and at once shared experiences of motherhood.
Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach (www.juliakolchinskydasbach.com) emigrated from Ukraine as a Jewish refugee when she was six years old. She holds an MFA in Poetry from the University of Oregon and is a Ph.D. candidate in Comparative Literature at the University of Pennsylvania. She is the author of The Many Names for Mother, winner the Wick Poetry Prize (Kent State University Press, 2019) and The Bear Who Ate the Stars (Split Lip Press, 2014). Her poems appear in POETRY, American Poetry Review, and The Nation, among others. Her work has been selected for Best New Poets, the Williams Carlos Williams University Poetry Prize from the Academy of American Poets, and New South’s Poetry Prize. Julia is the editor of Construction Magazine and writes a blog about motherhood.
The Many Names for Mother is available for preorder now!