The bee in the meadow is chanting, its words imperceivable but for the rhythm the vibration like my own chanting sometimes before I start the day and the bee, like me is quick in its reverence quick prayer like the mealtime grace of my childhood
God is great God is good let us thank him for this food
Amen
Ommmmm
Bzzzzzzzz
ABOVE: The adoration of Common chicory (Cichorium intybus) by Bicolored Agapostemon Sweat Bee (Agapostemon viriscens). Photo and poem by Jen Payne.
HAPPY INTERNATIONAL ZINE MONTH! Come on over to the Three Chairs Publishing website and join me as we celebrate a month full of zine things! Find out about zines, zine libraries, zine history, how to make your own zine and more!
In the ruins of my cathedral I can still hear the angels sing they from their loft of branches and I on bended knee begging for absolution that will not come
not from the pine at the pulpit sheared off in the storm
not from the maple whose leaves filtered light more beautifully than glass
not from the elm or the ash who lie beneath my feet extinguished by our blaze our red hot disregard
so keenly unconcerned that we are of this and part of this and crumbling at our very foundation
the beech knows its grief spreads like sickness now
On May 24, 2022, an 18-year-old with an AR-15 semi-automatic rifle fatally shot nineteen students and two teachers, and wounded seventeen other people, at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas. MANIFEST (zine): Endemic is a response that event. The proceeds from this issue will be donated to Sandy Hook Promise, a national nonprofit organization founded and led by several family members whose loved ones were killed at Sandy Hook Elementary School on December 14, 2012.
12-page, full-color 5×7, Cost: $8.00or subscribe and get 4 issues for $25.00
Part lit mag, part artist book, part chapbook, MANIFEST (zine) is the eclectic creation of Connecticut writer / poet / artist Jen Payne. Consider it a hold-in-your-hands art installation featuring writing, photography, and artwork, along with bits and pieces of whatnot that rise to the surface as she meditates on themes like change and transition, solitude, time, storytelling, and finding refuge in these turbulent times. Each issue also includes a curated Spotify playlist. Layered with colors, textures, meanings (and music), the result is a thought-full, tactile journey with nooks and crannies for you to discover along the way.
You can pay through PayPal using a PayPal account or any standard credit card. If you prefer the old school approach, please send your check, made payable to Jen Payne, P.O. Box 453, Branford, CT 06405.
On May 24, 2022, an 18-year-old with an AR-15 semi-automatic rifle fatally shot nineteen students and two teachers, and wounded seventeen other people, at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, United States. The victims were Makenna Lee Elrod, 10, Layla Salazar, 11, Maranda Mathis, 11, Nevaeh Bravo, 10, Jose Manuel Flores Jr., 10, Xavier Lopez, 10, Tess Marie Mata, 10, Rojelio Torres, 10, Eliahna “Ellie” Amyah Garcia, 9, Eliahna A. Torres, 10, Annabell Guadalupe Rodriguez, 10, Jackie Cazares, 9, Uziyah Garcia, Jayce Carmelo Luevanos, 10, Maite Yuleana Rodriguez, 10, Jailah Nicole Silguero, 10, Irma Garcia, 48, Eva Mireles, 44, Amerie Jo Garza, 10, Alexandria “Lexi” Aniyah Rubio, 10, and Alithia Ramirez, 10.
MANIFEST (zine): Endemic is a response that event. The proceeds from this issue will be donated to Sandy Hook Promise, a national nonprofit organization founded and led by several family members whose loved ones were killed at Sandy Hook Elementary School on December 14, 2012. Based in Newtown, Connecticut, their intent is “to honor all victims of gun violence by turning our tragedy into a moment of transformation. By empowering youth to “know the signs” and uniting all people who value the protection of children, we can take meaningful actions in schools, homes, and communities to prevent gun violence and stop the tragic loss of life.”
12-page, full-color 5×7, Cost: $8.00or subscribe and get 4 issues for $25.00
Part lit mag, part artist book, part chapbook, MANIFEST (zine) is the eclectic creation of Connecticut writer / poet / artist Jen Payne. Consider it a hold-in-your-hands art installation featuring writing, photography, and artwork, along with bits and pieces of whatnot that rise to the surface as she meditates on themes like change and transition, solitude, time, storytelling, and finding refuge in these turbulent times. Each issue also includes a curated Spotify playlist. Layered with colors, textures, meanings (and music), the result is a thought-full, tactile journey with nooks and crannies for you to discover along the way.
You can pay through PayPal using a PayPal account or any standard credit card. If you prefer the old school approach, please send your check, made payable to Jen Payne, P.O. Box 453, Branford, CT 06405.
The deer in the field were startled by the first shot, were you? You in your pews a thousand feet away there praying for sins praying for life while gun club gunshots rang in the holy morning, frightened the deer
and the bobolink.
Or you, while the tactical defense cleric in police surplice preached a safety sermon to the congregation there from the sacred pulpit: carry your faith defend from evil shoot to kill all lives matter…
From my window all I need to know of Earth this morning: her ombré sky indecisive her sun bold no matter glowing green buds of spring / that flash of red? a cardinal who was singing just a moment ago a duet like a record baby spider spinning another masterpiece as shadows fly across the lawn they bob and weave and somersault punctuated by bee bee bee bee the pond ripples with morning traffic turtles and ducks and frogs peep peep peep while the trees in unison sing Watch Our Here I Come!
Broken Pencil Magazine has been supporting zine culture and independent creative action for more than 25 years. Published four times a year, each issue of Broken Pencil features reviews of hundreds of zines and small press books, plus comics, excerpts from the best of the underground press, interviews, original fiction and commentary on all aspects of the indie arts. From the hilarious to the perverse, Broken Pencil challenges conformity and demands attention.
For all of those reasons and more, I was gobsmacked to see that MANIFEST (zine) was featured in their 25th Anniversary Issue! The cover of REFUGE, the quarantine zine, appears on page 38 – because, as they say, “the pandemic is the ultimate zine sourdough starter.”
Happy WWW Wednesday! New here on Random Acts of Writing, WWW Wednesday is a weekly blog meme hosted by Taking on a World of Words. The three W’s are simple:
• What are you currently reading? • What did you recently finish reading? • What do you think you’ll read next?
So here we go…feel free to post your own WWWs in the comments below!
What are you currently reading?
Beasts of a Little Land by Juhea Kim
“An epic story of love, war, and redemption set against the backdrop of the Korean independence movement, following the intertwined fates of a young girl sold to a courtesan school and the penniless son of a hunter.”
I’m taking my time with this one, holding on tightly to the separate stories that are dancing around each other from page to page.
What did you recently finish reading?
Maus I: A Survivor’s Tale: My Father Bleeds History Art Spiegelman
“A brutally moving work of art—widely hailed as the greatest graphic novel ever written—Maus recounts the chilling experiences of the author’s father during the Holocaust, with Jews drawn as wide-eyed mice and Nazis as menacing cats.”
Truth be told, I am not a fan of the graphic novel approach — but this book got so much press after it was banned by a Tennessee school board, I was curious and felt compelled to read it.
What do you think you’ll read next?
What Do People Do All Day? Richard Scarry
“An illustrated panorama of the animals of Busytown at work, describing the occupations and activities of many of her citizens through detailed drawings with labels indicating processes and equipment used as they perform their jobs.”
Research for the next issue of my zine, MANIFEST (zine), I can’t wait to revisit a favorite illustrator and favorite characters from my childhood. Who could resist?
A woman takes a knee by the side of the road thinks: “Surely the Mourning Cloak I spied this morning is mourning. Having surveyed our condition from its higher vantage point, it must wonder, as I do, if the storm that fell so many trees, that destroyed this holy place, did so on purpose. Barring us from passage. Asking us who we think we are, as Frost wrote, insisting always on our own way so. Our own way. God help us. Who DO we think we are…littering these open spaces with our trash, leaving our detritus and dog shit behind? Dragging our noisy selves and our machineries along paths as if we have some lofty right? Infesting the woods with our toxic nature, our assumed religions, our fabricated joy? Infesting the world with our opinions, our politics, our petty, pathetic proclivities? Insisting on our own way and ever ignorant of the ripple effect, the consequences?”
A woman takes a knee by the side of the road — butterfly, startled, flies away, a world away a world dies — and we think she is praying.
My first family was soft and warm, and covered me with enough love and affection to keep my heart hopeful for decades. My second family was threadbare, though, worn down so much that it hardly covered the dysfunction anymore, left me sick and unable to breathe. My third family fell apart at the seams. My fourth has been a patchwork of cotton and corduroy — thin in places, strong in others, woven together over time and enough to pull up to my chin, close my eyes and remember the little girl skipping, blanket always in tow, her Mom and Dad laughing.
The water and its shoreline has been home to all of the creative people you are about to meet in this issue of MANIFEST [zine]. The theme – Water – was inspired by the release of Water Under the Bridge: A Sort-of Love Story by Jen Payne, and is a collaborative effort featuring work by friends and fellow creative spirits Tara Buckley, Joy Bush, Jimine Camille, Anne Coffey, Juliana Harris, Rhonda Longo, Nancy Fitz-Hugh Meneely, Kristin Merrill, Mary O’Connor, and Laurel Valli.
This issue of MANIFEST (zine) includes a full color, 24-page booklet, inserts, and a curated, collaborative Spotify playlist. Cost: $8.00 or subscribe and get 4 issues for $25.00
I save their stories like scraps of stolen poetry. I know, for example, that she was conceived at the 1965 World’s Fair and that hidden above his left ear is a question-mark shaped scar. I remember the name of the child they lost, what she called the family dog, and that he wakes from nightmares as if in a back-alley brawl. Thief, collector, storykeeper — how easily I can tell the stories of couples in love and couples lost; about the pillow talk of lovers, the half-life of trauma, and the white-haired widow forever chasing a dog by the shore.
Yesterday, I was privy to at least three conversations in which someone said, “I don’t know, it’s supposed to snow tomorrow.” It was said in that way we usually say it here in New England — “I don’t know, I might need to run to the store, make sure the shovel is ready, flip up the wipers on the car, figure out what to do if work and school are cancelled.” Said like that, except with a little less conviction.
Less conviction not just because the climate crisis has changed the predictability of our winters, but because the toxic cocktail of technology and the pandemic has changed how we manage those treasured Snow Days.
Remember? You’d wait by the radio — dating myself — and listen for the alphabetical recitation of towns that had closed school for the day. Waiting and hoping to hear your town before whooping up with a cheer and heading back to bed or turning on the television.
Remember? You’d hear the forecast and run to the store to stock up — [check all boxes that apply] wine, chocolate, cookies, macaroni and cheese, pop-tarts, brussels sprouts, pot roast, ice cream. Then hunker down with a good book, some DVDs, a warm blanket, and your cat.
These days, more often than not, Snow Days mean comfy clothes, Zoom, and eye drops because we’re about to spend the next 10 hours in front of the machines. We’ll do remote school and remote work, we’ll catch up on other things, we’ll surf the internet and email and social media ourselves ad infinitum. All of that, while some part of our soul is hoping the power goes out…just for a little while at least. Please?
The other piece of conversation I’ve heard at least three times lately? “I’m just so fucking tired.”
Oh my god. Me too. Aren’t we all? Just. so. fucking. tired.
And not just tired sleepy tired. But tired overwhelmed saturated burnt-out exhausted almost-hopeless-but-I’m trying-really-hard-to-keep-the-faith, dear-god-not-another-Zoom tired.
[Breathe.]
Breathe and then consider this…
Most ski resorts these days make their own snow. Not just because the climate crisis has been steadily shortening the snow season for decades, but because snowmaking supplements natural snow. It allows ski resorts to improve the reliability of the snow cover and to extend their ski season beyond the winter months — so sayeth Wikipedia.
In a sense, Snowmaking for ski resorts is what Snow Days are for all of us. Good old-fashioned Snow Days supplement the meager amount of time off we allow ourselves by giving us a no-excuse-necessary moment to stop, rest, and regroup. Snow Days — those glorious unplanned days off —improve our reliability and extend our productivity more than technology wants us to think.
In so many ways, technology has been a saving grace during the pandemic. It’s allowed us to work from home, connect with friends and loved ones, order supplies, and stay safe. But it’s also skewed our sense of time and time off. It keeps us on constant alert — the chimes, buzzes, and dings making us a pack of Pavlov’s dogs anxious for the next task, the next command, the next IMPORTANT THING TO ADDRESS, with very little reward.
That’s why you have to create the reward for yourself.
Remember the proverb “make hay while the sun shines”? How about “make snow when the sun wanes,” or when you’re so freaking exhausted you can’t even remember proverbs?
Make snow. Make a Snow Day. Everything will still be here when you shovel yourself out tomorrow. I promise.
Some of my favorite moments are those times you have no other choice but to sit still and think — the waiting times, the pauses, the storm days. I do some of my most creative work there in those unencumbered moments, those times in between the Busy.
I outlined an entire book during an MRI scan a few years ago. And my Words by Jen logo? I came up with that while waiting for a client to arrive at a coffee shop.
When I travel, I always show up early at the airport and sink into the slow wait of boarding and waiting and flying. Often, the tires hitting the tarmac come too soon — no matter what adventure is about to commence.
For me, there is something about that hollow space that gives my brain permission to go explore something new and unknown. Like Alice, following rabbits down rabbit holes and discovering things I never imagined!
It’s challenging to find those moments, though, especially these days when headlines have our rapt attention. When rabbit holes seem too frivolous in comparison to struggles and turmoil.
But as Carolyn Gregoire explains in her article Creative in Times of Crisis, “Art seeks to make sense of everything from our smallest sad moments to the most earth-shattering tragedies. It helps us to process and come to terms with the things in life that we can’t control and can’t really explain.”
“Any experience that shakes your world and challenges your assumptions can lead to heightened creativity and more authentic self-expression. Positive or negative, any experience that leads us into the unknown is also guiding us into the birthplace of creation.”
So, I encourage you to make time to explore that unknown, even now in these days of unending challenges. Give yourself breathing room, claim those unencumbered moments, and connect with your creative voice — it can be a solace, a grounding force, an anchor in the storm.
It’s definitely BIGGER ON THE INSIDE, but you’ll have to see Sarah Zar’s solo exhibit Guilford Art Center for yourself. This awesome photo is just a hint at what you’ll find. (Photo by Ashley Seneco, GAC Programs Assistant and Visitor Services)
Jen Payne, friend Laura Noe, and Maureen Belden, Executive Director of Guilford Art Center. (Photo by SeaneenThorpe)
Guilford Art Center (Guilford, CT) is currently hosting a tale of two stories about connections made across the world wide web, and together they weave a story of lost histories and creative bravery.
On Valentine’s weekend, Guilford Art Center hosted a fun and electric book signing for local author Jen Payne’s new book Water Under the Bridge. Told through a series of emails, it’s about two former loves who reconnect after 15 years apart and work to reconcile their pasts and futures. It’s a conversation, a memoir, a love story…sort of.
And while premise itself is intriguing, it’s the stunning cover design that first captures your imagination. The image, called Hurricane Woman, was painted by Sarah Zar, a New York-based multi-disciplinary artist. Jen and Sarah connected through their Etsy shops back in 2019.
But the story doesn’t end there.
When the time came to launch the book, Jen saw a great opportunity to weave the common threads — cover art and artist, artist and art center. And so it was that the salon-style exhibit BIGGER ON THE INSIDE found a home in the Center’s lobby gallery.
Sarah’s paintings, often executed in low-lit, moody colors, are filled with bizarre figures, interacting or inhabiting solitary scenes with other unnatural presences, absences, and transpositions. She paints on old book pages and found remnants, preferring the polished texture of things with lost histories. In any medium — painted or three-dimensional — Sarah’s works are often figurative and a bit fabulist. She thinks of her objects as love letters to the unconscious minds of strangers.
On view through April 16, all of the work is for sale and outlined in a full-color price list available in The Shop at Guilford Art Center. Also for sale are copies of Water Under the Bridge: A Sort-of Love Story, signed artist prints of the Hurricane Woman cover art, joy bottles, lover’s eye necklaces, postcards, and signed copies of Sarah’s art book, Riddled With Spots, a popular item at the MoMA gift shop.
A steady stream of guests filled the Art Center with enthusiasm on Saturday, February 12, including Victoria Ferrell of the Guilford Courier who featured her photographs in this Meet the Author feature.
SCENES FROM THE DAY
Sarah Zar’s solo exhibit BIGGER ON THE INSIDE, on view at Guilford Art Center through April 16.
Water Under the Bridge: A Sort-of Love Story is on sale at The Shop at Guilford Art Center.
The book signing event on February 12 was full of joy…so are Sarah Zar’s “Joy Bottles” on sale at The Shop.
Book Signing guests enjoyed gift bags filled with goodies including La Colombe coffee and donuts from Pastry Fusion in North Branford.
The Shop at Guilford Art Center has a wide selection of contemporary handcrafted work by American artisans…
…including books, zines, and postcards created by Jen Payne…
…and a featured selection of work by artist Sarah Zar.
SPECIAL THANKS…
This event could not have happened if it weren’t for the enthusiasm, good work, and warm welcome from the staff at Guilford Art Center: Elena Albergo, Maureen Belden, John Bohannan, Ashley Seneco, Suzanne Hens-Kaplan, DeeDee Hakun, Lisa Ste. Marie, and Lisa Wolkow.
With special thanks to Sue Singleton, GAC Programs Assistant and Visitor Services, who greeted and assisted the many visitors in The Shop during the event.
And to Shoreline Times editor Sue Braden for her excellent feature article about the book and the event! Click on the photo read it now.
WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE: A SORT-OF LOVE STORY ($16) is available at The Shop at Guilford Art Center (411 Church Street, Guilford, CT 06437) and from Three Chairs Publishing.
Jen Payne has published two books of poetry as well as a collection of essays and original photographs. Her work has been featured in numerous publications including the international anthology Coffee Poems: Reflections on Life with Coffee; the Guilford Poets Guild 20th Anniversary Anthology; Waking Up to the Earth: Connecticut Poets in a Time of Global Climate Crisis, edited by Connecticut’s Poet Laureate Margaret Gibson; and The Perch, a publication by the Yale Program for Recovery and Community Health. Payne is the owner of Words by Jen, a graphic design and creative services company founded in 1993. You can read more of her work on her blog Random Acts of Writing, randomactsofwriting.net, and in MANIFEST (zine) which creatively explores concepts of change and transition, solitude, time, storytelling, and finding refuge in these turbulent times.
Sarah Zaris a book-obsessed, multi-disciplinary artist who has exhibited in the U.S. and abroad. Whether drawing, painting, collaging, or sculpting, Zar uses images in a literary, psychological and symbolic way. While finishing her Master’s degree, she played the saw in a gypsy chamber ensemble, taught contemporary art & aesthetics, quantum theory, literary theory, NLP, nonsense cryptology, psychology, and the art of microexpressions. Zar is currently working on community-based artwork in which anyone in the world can be painted into an epic narrative scene about the War on Imagination.
The Guilford Art Center is a non-profit school, shop, and gallery established to nurture and support excellence in the arts. Through classes for adults and children, gallery programs, a shop of contemporary crafts, and special events, the Center provides opportunities for the public to participate in the arts, to experience their cultural and historical diversity, and to appreciate the process and product of creative work. Founded in 1967, the Center currently serves over 2,000 students, presents juried and invitational exhibits of art in the Center’s gallery and operates a shop of fine, handmade American crafts year-round. The Center also presents the Craft Expo, held on the Guilford Green each year in July, that features works by more than 180 of the country’s most distinguished artisans.
In sports, sudden death is a tiebreaker — two teams of equal measure play until one scores. In my family, sudden death was a torpedo in the East China Sea and a kamikaze’s final score. It was a flu pandemic in 1957 that meant game over for my 19-year-old aunt…and my grandmother, who never quite recovered her self. Sudden death was an 18-wheeler on a mountainous interstate in southwest Virginia — a certain game changer for my father, and for me who wakes more often than not with an adrenaline rush of grab the ball and run before it’s too late.
It was Valentine’s Day, but we’d already broken up. I ended it days earlier because he never listened to me — not about extravagant gifts, not when I asked him to drive with both hands on the wheel, not when I said I was allergic to dogs. He also didn’t pay attention when I told him not to deliver the postscript Valentine’s gift furtively left at my door. It, a $75 teddy bear, was dressed in what he assumed was my regular working-from-home attire: suit, skirt, briefcase.
But removed of her conformity? I say: who couldn’t love a bear named Naked Betty?
I find I have fond affection for the small hemlock under whose wide branches I sought refuge that cool October day. The soft rain having changed its mind turned cold and hard, and I — caught without a hat or jacket — had no choice but to suspend my walk for a while. And so it was I tucked into a dry spot beneath the hemlock at the side of the trail and leaned into her, perhaps for comfort or camaraderie — we will wait this out together. You can form bonds like that, you know, with trees. It comes almost instinctually, as if pulled up from some deep primordial well of remembrance. She was and remains like kin, and I wave when I pass her now. I like to think she nods back.
Saturday, February 12, 11:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. BOOK SIGNING & ART EXHIBIT at Guilford Art Center 411 Church Street, Guilford, CT
• Book Signing with writer Jen Payne • “Bigger on the Inside,” exhibit by artist Sarah Zar • Free and open to the community
Connecticut writer Jen Payne has long been inspired by those life moments that move us most — love and loss, joy and disappointment, milestones and turning points — and her new book WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE: A SORT-OF LOVE STORY tells of such a moment. It’s a conversation, a memoir, a love story — just in time for Valentine’s Day!
Told through a series of emails, WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE is the story of two people who reconnect after 15 years apart and work to reconcile their pasts…and futures.
She thought about him often over the years. Looked him up online occasionally to see where he was and if he was all right. It wasn’t until last fall that she found his email address, and several months more before she got up the courage to write.
Influenced by the work of Brené Brown and a proponent of the bravery of storytelling, Payne says WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE is “about having the courage to speak our truths; it’s about trust and vulnerability, and about the true blessings found when we open our hearts — come what may.”
What followed surprised her even more…
Please note, masks are required, regardless of vaccination status, please see current COVID protocols. Snow date: Saturday, February 19.
WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE: A SORT-OF LOVE STORY ($16) will be available at the Shop at Guilford Art Center (411 Church Street, Guilford, CT 06437) and from Three Chairs Publishing.
Jen Payne has published two books of poetry as well as a collection of essays and original photographs. Her work has been featured in numerous publications including the international anthology Coffee Poems: Reflections on Life with Coffee; the Guilford Poets Guild 20th Anniversary Anthology; Waking Up to the Earth: Connecticut Poets in a Time of Global Climate Crisis, edited by Connecticut’s Poet Laureate Margaret Gibson; and The Perch, a publication by the Yale Program for Recovery and Community Health. Payne is the owner of Words by Jen, a graphic design and creative services company founded in 1993. You can read more of her work on her blog Random Acts of Writing, randomactsofwriting.net, and in MANIFEST (zine) which creatively explores concepts of change and transition, solitude, time, storytelling, and finding refuge in these turbulent times.
Sarah Zaris a book-obsessed, multi-disciplinary artist who has exhibited in the U.S. and abroad. Whether drawing, painting, collaging, or sculpting, Zar uses images in a literary, psychological and symbolic way. While finishing her Master’s degree, she played the saw in a gypsy chamber ensemble, taught contemporary art & aesthetics, quantum theory, literary theory, NLP, nonsense cryptology, psychology, and the art of microexpressions. Zar is currently working on community-based artwork in which anyone in the world can be painted into an epic narrative scene about the War on Imagination.
Her specially curated exhibit will be on view in the GAC lobby throughout February.
The Guilford Art Center is a non-profit school, shop, and gallery established to nurture and support excellence in the arts. Through classes for adults and children, gallery programs, a shop of contemporary crafts, and special events, the Center provides opportunities for the public to participate in the arts, to experience their cultural and historical diversity, and to appreciate the process and product of creative work. Founded in 1967, the Center currently serves over 2,000 students, presents juried and invitational exhibits of art in the Center’s gallery and operates a shop of fine, handmade American crafts year-round. The Center also presents the Craft Expo, held on the Guilford Green each year in July, that features works by more than 180 of the country’s most distinguished artisans.
by Susan Braden, CT Insider/Shoreline Times, February 4, 2022
Reconnecting with a long-lost love online is not a new story — but it’s one that still captures the imagination of many people.
What if? — that’s the big question that Branford writer Jen Payne aims to answer in her new novel, Water Under The Bridge: A Sort-of Love Story.
Set in the early 2000s, the story is told through a series of emails between two former loves who find each other online after years of leading separate lives. And it’s a story readers can relate to, the author said.
“I think it’s one of these things where people reconnect after however many years,” and think, “‘Well, what’s going to happen?’” Payne said.
The epistolary novel is reminiscent of the hit ’90s rom-com You’ve Got Mail with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks, produced nearly a decade before social media popped up on anyone’s radar or screen. Long before smart phones and tablets, people communicated online via their home computer. In the movie, Hanks and Ryan fall in love through email.
An epistolary novel is one written as a series of letters, in this case emails, Payne said.
Payne’s novel is a personal story which she calls “creative nonfiction.” She describes the book as part “conversation, a memoir, a love story.”
While Payne was going through this email exchange in real time, she knew it would make a good book — whichever way it turned out. So she saved all the emails all these years.
When she started to write the novel, “it had a life of its own,” Payne said.
In the book, Payne captures the first ripples of excitement, her fear of embarrassment and the emotional rush of what it might be like to reconnect with someone special from the past.
Payne wanted readers to see themselves and recognize “those moments when you fall in love — either you fall in love with a person, you fall in love with a situation, you may fall in love with a new baby.
“Those moments that create great change for us and how it opens our heart,” she said.
While a true story, Payne said she was “creatively interpretative” in her use of the actual emails — they have a poetic cadence to them. She never names either character.
Catching up with a lost love is a universal theme, she said. When Payne gave a copy of her book to a fellow writer, Payne recalled her friend’s eager response, “She said, ‘Oh, that happened to me, too!’”
Payne recalled a relative of hers who “met up with his high school sweetheart at his 30th reunion and ended up getting married — so you never know,” she said with a smile.
In an excerpt from “Water Under the Bridge,” Payne writes about her nervous anticipation of meeting with her lost love:
“Was he checking his email as often as she was? Did he feel like a teenager, too? She was kicking herself for the silly reaction to him – the sudden leap of her heart, the grin on her face.”
The book also marks a time in Payne’s life when she wasn’t writing, but working as a graphic artist in marketing.
“People know me as the writer, the poet, this creative person,” she said. “Before this moment I wasn’t any of that. I wasn’t writing, I wasn’t creating.
“This is the moment that changed me,” she said.
Payne, a graphic designer who owns her own public relations firm, is well known on the shoreline — she has done publicity with her company, Words By Jen, for local organizations for years such as The Branford Land Trust, Branford Compassion Club, Branford Community Gardens and Guilford Art Center. She is an active member of the Arts Council of Greater New Haven and the Branford Arts and Cultural Alliance, as well.
The former member of the Guilford Poets Guild also is known as a writer and continues to write poetry. She has written and published four other books LOOK UP! Musings on the Nature of Mindfulness, Evidence of Flossing: What We Leave Behind, FLOSSING, and Waiting Out the Storm— under her own imprint of Three Chairs Publishing.
Payne handles nearly all aspects of publishing, and outsources where she needs to for editing and printing: “I have really good resources,” she said.
Payne purposely left a few pages of the book blank, with just the date printed on top — these are to show when the writer is awaiting a response to her email that did not come that day — lending a sense of time passing.
“This is designed to take you almost physically into the experience of reading the emails. Every email is on one page,” she noted.
Payne painstakingly chose the artwork for the cover, and found the artist, Sarah Zar, online at Etsy. Payne so loved her work that Zar will be exhibiting art in her show, “Bigger on the Inside” in the lobby at Guilford Art Center where a book-signing will take place.
“We’re excited to host this event and exhibition,” Maureen Belden, executive director of the Guilford Art Center, said in an email. “Jen is a wonderful writer, and happens to be GAC’s longtime graphic designer, an art form at which she also excels.”
Belden added, “We’re also looking forward to featuring the work of cover artist Sarah Zar, whose richly detailed images and objects complement Jen’s words.”
Another one of Payne’s favorite creative endeavors are her printed “zines,” called “Manifest (zine)” that she creates from the page up — from writing, layout and design.
Payne calls these zines “a hold-in-your-hands art installation,” which are “part mag, part artist book, part chapbook.” The booklets feature an arresting potpourri of writing, mixed-media collage work, photos, quotes and “pieces of creative whatnot” all produced on 80-pound matte paper that feels silky to the touch.
“It’s so much fun to work on these,” she enthused. Payne works on the physical mixed-media collages in a studio in her home; she does all the photography in addition to the graphic design.
“I have for a long time thought about doing art installations — like physical art gallery installations,” she said. But, she added, “I just didn’t have the time to do that.”
“I came up with the idea of doing these zines as a way to present the written word and the visual image in a tangible way,” she said.
Payne unabashedly loves printed books and materials. She seems to touch her zines like they are small treasures as she describes what she loves about print.
“It slows us down. It keeps up in the moment of holding a book and turning the pages and seeing the words in from of us. It’s a different experience than looking at your tablet or you looking at your computer screen with your email pinging and your social network binging over here — and you have all these distractions.”
And she has found fellow paper lovers: “Oh my goodness — yes! Book people. Zine people. We all love paper.”
“Some folks will tell you that print is dead, but I know many who would definitely beg to differ,” she added.
Payne will sign copies of her new book at Guilford Art Center from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m., Saturday, February 12. Guests can also enjoy an art exhibit by Sarah Zar, the artist who painted Hurricane Woman on the book’s cover. The event is free and open to the public. Masks are required, regardless of vaccination status. Seewww.guilfordartcenter.org for current COVID protocols. Snow date is February 19.
The Garden State Parkway Rest Stop was half-way to my grandmother’s. We’d pull off the exit and shuffle into the rose-colored stalls of the Ladies Room.
Inside, near the pink-vinyl couch, a pull-knob vending machine sold hairnets, bobby pins, and rainhats neatly folded into pastel plastic boxes.
The Rest Stop burned down in ’91, years after we’d stop traveling as a family. But in my mind, it’s all still there — the soft golden light and tiled floors, the vending machine, my sister sleeping, Dad singing I Got You Babe to Mom in the front seat, his hand on her knee.
Saturday, February 12, 11:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. BOOK SIGNING & ART EXHIBIT at Guilford Art Center 411 Church Street, Guilford, CT
• Book Signing with writer Jen Payne • “Bigger on the Inside,” exhibit by cover artist Sarah Zar • Free and open to the community
Connecticut writer Jen Payne has long been inspired by those life moments that move us most — love and loss, joy and disappointment, milestones and turning points — and her new book WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE: A SORT-OF LOVE STORY tells of such a moment. It’s a conversation, a memoir, a love story — just in time for Valentine’s Day!
Told through a series of emails, WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE is the story of two people who reconnect after 15 years apart and work to reconcile their pasts…and futures.
She thought about him often over the years. Looked him up online occasionally to see where he was and if he was all right. It wasn’t until last fall that she found his email address, and several months more before she got up the courage to write.
Influenced by the work of Brené Brown and a proponent of the bravery of storytelling, Payne says WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE is “about having the courage to speak our truths; it’s about trust and vulnerability, and about the true blessings found when we open our hearts — come what may.”
What followed surprised her even more…
Please note, masks are required, regardless of vaccination status, please see current COVID protocols. Snow date: Saturday, February 19.
WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE: A SORT-OF LOVE STORY ($16) will be available at the Shop at Guilford Art Center (411 Church Street, Guilford, CT 06437) and from Three Chairs Publishing.
Jen Payne has published two books of poetry as well as a collection of essays and original photographs. Her work has been featured in numerous publications including the international anthology Coffee Poems: Reflections on Life with Coffee; the Guilford Poets Guild 20th Anniversary Anthology; Waking Up to the Earth: Connecticut Poets in a Time of Global Climate Crisis, edited by Connecticut’s Poet Laureate Margaret Gibson; and The Perch, a publication by the Yale Program for Recovery and Community Health. Payne is the owner of Words by Jen, a graphic design and creative services company founded in 1993. You can read more of her work on her blog Random Acts of Writing, randomactsofwriting.net, and in MANIFEST (zine) which creatively explores concepts of change and transition, solitude, time, storytelling, and finding refuge in these turbulent times.
Sarah Zaris a book-obsessed, multi-disciplinary artist who has exhibited in the U.S. and abroad. Whether drawing, painting, collaging, or sculpting, Zar uses images in a literary, psychological and symbolic way. While finishing her Master’s degree, she played the saw in a gypsy chamber ensemble, taught contemporary art & aesthetics, quantum theory, literary theory, NLP, nonsense cryptology, psychology, and the art of microexpressions. Zar is currently working on community-based artwork in which anyone in the world can be painted into an epic narrative scene about the War on Imagination.
Her specially curated exhibit will be on view in the GAC lobby throughout February.
The Guilford Art Center is a non-profit school, shop, and gallery established to nurture and support excellence in the arts. Through classes for adults and children, gallery programs, a shop of contemporary crafts, and special events, the Center provides opportunities for the public to participate in the arts, to experience their cultural and historical diversity, and to appreciate the process and product of creative work. Founded in 1967, the Center currently serves over 2,000 students, presents juried and invitational exhibits of art in the Center’s gallery and operates a shop of fine, handmade American crafts year-round. The Center also presents the Craft Expo, held on the Guilford Green each year in July, that features works by more than 180 of the country’s most distinguished artisans.
For sure there is a story to tell, of late-night clichés and coffee-stained romances there behind the counter of the midnight doughnut shop. She had written them in situ, on journal pages stained with raspberry-pink jelly: the dashing pirate, the rookie cop, the old war vet with a “crack in his cookie jar.” No doubt she learned more there than in any class at the university — or any day since. But could she find them again? Stir them up, let them proof and rise into something more than naïve schoolgirl impressions of the world and her life not yet begun?
In his clever, colorful book Zoom, illustrator Istvan Banyai invites the reader to see the bigger picture. Zoom in, zoom out – what do you see? what do you think you see? what are you really looking at? What are we really looking at in these warped and ever-changing days?
Come along as we zoom in and try to figure out what it all means.
The LEIXCON ZOOM issue of MANIFEST (zine) includes a full color, 32-page booklet, fun inserts, and a curated Spotify playlist. Just $8 for one issue, or subscribe for $25 and get 4 issues. Click here to find out more or just …
The Annual Subscription rate of $25 includes four issues of MANIFEST (zine), and starts with the December issue LEIXCON ZOOM.
You can pay through PayPal using a PayPal account or any standard credit card. If you prefer the old school approach, please send your check, made payable to Jen Payne, P.O. Box 453, Branford, CT 06405.
I saw an elf bent over, studying the bark of a tree just up the path. “What are you looking at?” I asked, feeling curiouser and curiouser. “Mushrooms,” he told me, “these.” Then he bowed and plucked a bouquet from the log at my feet. Edible, he explained with a smile, so I asked “What are you making?” and he replied “Oyster mushrooms with a sherry cream sauce.” Mouths watering, we talked a bit about wild woods and food fare before we parted ways. Darn, I keep thinking, I forgot to drop my shoe. How will he ever find me?
Hi. It’s Jen again. Coming to you here at the end of another year all ramped up for resolutions and intentions and manifesting…NOT.
Did I tell you the story about my 2021 Vision Board? The one on which I pinned a photo of a roller coaster? OK, Universe, I meant “Try Exhilarating Fun Things” not the roller coaster that was the past 12 months. Seriously.
And about that 2021 word? EXPANSIVE? Nope. 2021 found me contracting and happily hiding behind the anonymity of COVID. You know: face masks, social distancing, and the like.
Granted, the Vision Board wasn’t a complete bust. I excelled at resting, for example. I began and maintained a twice daily meditation practice. I spoke my peace more, let go of more, and played more. And at the end of every day I was grateful for however it had unfolded.
But despite all of that, I am resistant to go through the process of Vision Boarding again. It sounds like a form of torture, doesn’t it? Especially here at the end of or beginning of another unpredictable pandemic year. Talk about roller coasters.
What? You mean no New Year’s Resolutions? No list of intentions? No lofty goals? Yes…and no. I have some great ideas, sure, but I’m also pretty happy with things just as they are right here in this moment.
I suspect my final two Amazon purchases of 2021 speak more to my intentions for the new year than any Vision Board ever could. So I’ll leave you with those for the time being, with wishes for a GOOD, CLEAN (and Healthy) 2022.
If I read as much as it feels like I didn’t, I suspect I would have surpassed my Goodreads Reading Challenge goal. I’m not really as far off as I thought…numerically, anyhow. According to my Goodreads 2021 report, I’ve read 35 books this year, 70% of my goal of 50 books.
But truth be told, my practice of reading is off by more than 70%. My attention span feels pulled thin by this pandemic; my sit-still tolerance more often taken up by Netflix binges instead of novels.
Still, when I did sink into a novel, I sunk deep. So deep I didn’t want to come up — and didn’t, for weeks. Think The Starless Sea and The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern, or The Watchmaker of Filigree Street and The Lost Future of Pepperharrow by Natasha Pulley. I would gladly spend weeks again within their pages.
On my nightstand now, The Book of Form and Emptiness by Ruth Ozeki, author of one of my all-time favorite books A Tale for the Time Being. A good way to step into a new year I think — good book in hand, yes?
In my mind’s eye reading looks and feels like the yummy painting, The Moonlight Bed (above), by Jacek Yerka. A comfy spot, good lighting, creature comforts, and a big stack of books. May YOUR new year be filled with the same! Happy reading!
What I love most about MANIFEST (zine) is how each issue takes me — and ultimately you — on a journey of connected thoughts, images, and ideas. Thank you for joining me as we explore topics like change and transition, solitude, time, storytelling, and finding refuge in these turbulent times.
The idea for my new issue — LEXICON ZOOM — came to me during a morning meditation. It has twisted and reshaped itself several times since, but I am pleased by the magical happenstances that took it in different directions. And I am delighted with the final piece…I hope you are too!
So ZOOM in and let’s see how “when we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe.”
LEIXCON ZOOM includes a full color, 32-page booklet, fun inserts, and a curated Spotify playlist. Just $8 for one issue, or subscribe for $25 and get 4 issues. Click here to find out more or just …
The Annual Subscription rate of $25 includes four issues of MANIFEST (zine), and starts with the December issue LEIXCON ZOOM.
Part lit mag, part artist book, part chapbook, MANIFEST (zine) is the eclectic creation of writer / poet / artist Jen Payne. Consider it a hold-in-your-hands art installation featuring writing, photography, and artwork, along with bits and pieces of whatnot that rise to the surface as she meditates on themes like change and transition, solitude, time, storytelling, and finding refuge in these turbulent times. Each issue also includes a curated Spotify playlist. Layered with colors, textures, meanings (and music), the result is a thought-full, tactile journey with nooks and crannies for you to discover along the way.
You can pay through PayPal using a PayPal account or any standard credit card. If you prefer the old school approach, please send your check, made payable to Jen Payne, P.O. Box 453, Branford, CT 06405.
Much to the alarm of a grandmother, I picked up the baby and ran, leaving the Christmas celebrations in our wake.
Gathering festive crinolines around her tiny feet for warmth, we dashed out to the front yard, and I pointed up to the sharp winter sky. “Look, Little Miss, it’s the Christmas star!” And she laughed and giggled and leaned into me — a shared delight.
“Remember,” I said, “That’s the star the wise men followed.”
Who’s to say, of course, if it was just a plane as I was admonished. The spirit whispered love and hope and sweet small wonders.
I assure you, I did nothing to encourage him. I was simply kneeling trailside, counting petals on a flower — he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not.
Then I heard him approach, footstepping through memories of trees scattered across the forest floor.
In his camouflage, I recognized fear and wonder, the wild and unpredictable nature of things, the magic of connection.
There was no amorous announcement to my ear, but a sound, a something sound I could not believe.
So as not to dash his hopes, I left quietly, wondering: do spiders really sing?
In Austin, she bought a rock star coat — black velvet with embroidered-flower sleeves and a faux-fur, mid-calf hem. In the dressing room, she laughed — it was a perfect fit.
“I’d never wear it,” she told the saleswoman. “Back home, we’re all L.L. Bean and Talbots.”
She bought it anyway, hung it by the door — her alter-ego, set in wait.
Then she met her new neighbors, Zach and Joe, walking their two chihuahuas.
“This is Amy and this is Pacho,” Zack said, “they have a cabaret act.”
When they invited her to their house-warming party, she knew exactly what to wear.
It was an all-points bulletin: MISSING IGUANA! Jake likes to roam, be on the lookout. Don’t chase!
I was a little busy when I first saw the news; parking my car outside the hotel was proving more difficult than it should and the sun was in my eyes. Maybe that’s why I had a hard timing believing them when I saw the iguana on the hotel lawn, sitting atop a purple octopus.
I didn’t think to ask how the octopus was managing out-of-water, I was actually deep in thought, wondering: what inspires an iguana to roam in the first place?
She wonders if he remembers the night he found that cat. Left to fend for itself in the winter woods, it died by the trail — as if it waited for someone to return. Collar with its name, no address or phone. Alone.
He carried it to the vet, along with his warped sense of humor. “Were you attached to it?” she mocked. “Yes, and then I abandoned it,” he replied — each of them poking fun at intimate confessions they’d shared. Achilles heels, laid bare.
Ironic, how easily they laughed at the inevitable.
In his absence now, she remembers…poor discarded “Love.”
MaryAnne and I were shopping on Canal Street in New York City. My polite “No thank you” replies to the onslaught of “Tiffany! Tiffany! You buy?” catcalls clearly indicated my novicity.
Thirteen blocks of brand-name idolatry was her pilgrimage, but I didn’t see any religious icons in the dimly lit backroom we entered solemnly.
Behind faux red velvet curtains, a thousand ordinary pocketbooks lined the walls; two Asian women exchanged furtive glances and slipped our twenties into small black pouches.
Later, in the car, I looked at my purchase ambivalently. “Is that a Coach bag?” MaryAnne gasped. “OH MY GOD!”
I think, maybe, it’s our hearts I keep meeting in my dreams. Not as often now as before, but still, they’re curled under a winter’s weight of blankets, not daring to move. Reading by the fire with coffee before the sun rises. Walking through the woods on familiar paths, old stories kicked around like leaves. Sitting on lawn chairs in the back yard before the big storm changed everything. It’s always he who reaches out for her hand, calls for her attention. And she who closes her eyes and breathes it all in — just one more time before I wake.
The born-again Christian man wore head-to-toe camouflage — a fabric used to disguise one’s appearance and to blend in with the surroundings. In nature, organisms use camouflage to sneak up on prey, to mask their identity and intentions. But his were clear. A warrior of god, proclaiming he is the way and the truth and the life. Praise God, he announces for all to see — while discussing guns and ammo with a friend in the post office lobby. They laugh, she thanks him for his advice, drives off in a car with a pro-life bumper sticker. Goes to stock up. Pray.
Looking for something different to give to friends who appreciate interesting and creative gifts? Then consider a subscription to Manifest (zine).
Each issue is packed full of writing, photography, and artwork, along with bits and pieces of creative whatnot and a curated Spotify playlist. Layered with colors, textures, meanings (and music), the result is a thought-full, tactile journey with nooks and crannies to discover along the way.
As Broken Pencil Magazine recently wrote in its review: “The result is essentially a portable contemporary art exhibit…[the] focus on physical quality (paper, image, colour assembly) alone makes it worth the price of admission.”
And now, just for the holidays, that price of admission includes a FREE gift issue!
Order a Manifest (zine) Gift Subscription, and we’ll send you the back issue of your choice along with a holiday card that acknowledges your 4-issue, 2022 subscription.
$25.00
Gift Subscription Manifest (zine) (Reg. Price $40)
I suppose I was a force to be reckoned with, even then at 19, when we stood in his driveway and I explained how my world was just bigger than his, drawing circles in the air like the orbits of planets. But he loved me then, loved how we could talk for hours when only the stars were listening, loved that I loved him back in those sweet moments we traveled around each other. In the end he was the only one with courage enough to ask me to marry … and I wonder what if maybe every blue moon.
Downstairs, along a neon-lit hall of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, there’s an Art-o-Mat. From it, for $5, you can purchase small, original works of art. But I confess, my fascination with Art-o-Mats is more about their past lives than their brilliant creativity. You see, their artwork resides in old cigarette vending machines, and with each purchase I am transported to the Route One Dairy Queen, 1984. That very first pack of cigarettes. The sound of quarters dropping, the brazen pull of the lever, the musical-mechanical delivery of Marlboros on the offering plate below. The light. The smoke. Magic.
For more about Art-o-Mats and where to find one near you, visit www.artomat.org.
I met a man in the woods. He was going for a walk with his frogs…two Sonoran Desert toads, actually, along the green trail on a rainy afternoon. He had them in a cat backback, facing forwards so they could see as they went past the pond and around to where the stream crosses the trail. “What if he lets them out,” I ruminated. “They would die, it’s too cold.” “But is it? Gloabal warming.” “What if he’s conditioned them? Got them used to colder weather.” “This is silly.” “More silly than a guy on a hike with pet toads?”
What a fun surprise to see this awesome display about zines at my local library! Special thanks to the folks at the James Blackstone Memorial Library and Katy McNicol, Associate Librarian for Development & Outreach, for doing such a great job on this…and for featuring MANIFEST (zine).
My favorite part of this display is the short essay WHY ZINES MATTER, from The Bindery website. I LOVE this!
WHY ZINES MATTER
Culturally and historically, zines have served as a powerful outlet for content considered to be too niche, risqué, or outside of the mainstream, in terms of more traditional/commercial forms of publication. A zine can be produced with the simplest of tools, and easily distributed low-to-the ground, outside capitalistic or potentially oppressive systems: amongst friends; in local gathering places or homes; at fests designed to celebrate them!
Zines provide a safe, independent platform of expression for underrepresented and marginalized voices: Black, Indigenous & People of Color, young people, people with disabilities, the LGBTQ(+) community, persecuted religious groups, and people with limited economic resources.
Essentially, zines can be a little hard to define—but that’s what makes them great: they’re a glorious mash-up of art, letters, story and emotion; just like the brains, hands and hearts of those who produce them. Their small, simple format belies their unique ability to speak creatively [and loudly] for even the softest voices. (And ain’t that worth celebrating.)
Stop by the library today to see this awesome display and to learn more about zines. PLUS you can borrow copies of MANIFEST (zine) to check it out (literally!) or…