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Author Spotlight: Eduardo Martínez-Leyva


















The University of Wisconsin Press, selected by Amaud Jamaul Johnson as the  Winner of the 2024 Felix Pollak Prize in Poetry

September 10, 2024

ISBN : 9780299350840


 


What are some key themes present in your book?  


I couldn’t have written Cowboy Park without the community that nurtured and shaped my voice and writing style. As a queer Latine man raised on the U.S.-Mexico border, my upbringing and cultural traditions are the inspiration behind most of my poems. I aim to reveal the intricacies of growing up on the border—the flattering sides and those with teeth and knuckles. I firmly believe that to capture the complete picture of a place, one must look at its blessings and its bruises. At the same time, I wanted the book to show how the dangerous rhetoric against immigrants and the Mexican community--that sadly continues to grip this nation--significantly impacts the lives of a group of people who are tenacious, hardworking, resilient, and who despite the circumstances and injustices they face, the violence imposed upon them, they still find a way to persevere and survive. 


The collection, then, delves into the complexities of border life, capturing its beauty and harsh realities. Growing up in Texas, the societal standards of masculinity were always imposed on boys. As I got older, I became fascinated by challenging these norms: What does it mean to be a man? I questioned the quintessential image of masculinity I saw all around me—the cowboy. The result is a book of poetry that explores assimilation, grief, hate crimes, PTSD, toxic masculinity, addiction, religious traditions, self-discovery, and acceptance.


Two significant life-altering events become the overarching narratives throughout the collection. The first is the aftermath of my brother’s detainment and deportation, and the second deals with my mother surviving a mass shooting in my hometown of El Paso, TX. As you can imagine, these events were devastating, and so the poems depict a family coping with trauma and its effects. Ultimately, these poems are a portrait of the world I know. They attempt to expand the image of a community that often gets misrepresented and unfairly maligned. 



Can you describe the environment(s) where you wrote your book? This could be the room, the desk, the city, an MFA program, a fellowship, or any other environmental factor (you only wrote when it rained, you always wrote with fresh flowers in the room, etc.). 


Place and location are paramount to my writing, as you can imagine. The book has traveled both literally and figuratively to many places. Still, it truly began during my time in graduate school, where I met writers who encouraged me to expand my writing voice and ideas, giving me permission to imagine and wonder, to flex my creative muscle, giving me permission to fail.  I devoted most of my time to learning from my teachers and peers and got reacquainted with my writing style. So, New York City saw the book in its infancy, from the dark corridors of the university’s stacks of books to the coffee shops on Amsterdam Avenue with cloying, buttery pastries, and then to my poorly lit studio dorm room, where sleep was evasive.


After graduation, the poems joined me in the nation’s capital. They waited patiently for summer break while I supported myself working as a middle school English teacher and later emerged in spurts of inspiration. At the same time, I sat for endless hours on the well-worn and gray, sunken couches at Georgetown University library, overlooking the campus’s parish cemetery. Because of life events, both personal and global, grief began to grip my writing. Unfortunately, I had to put my work in the background, and there was a long pause in a last-ditch effort to revitalize the work. I spent seven wonderful and healing months in Provincetown during the off-season, where, as expected, the cohort of artists and writers breathed new life into them. Gradually, my work began exploring and touching the landscapes and corners it hadn’t dared to explore or even knew existed: A landscape of fishermen, lighthouses, glitter, queer art, bad Mexican food, coywolves, and whale bones. I’d wake up before sunrise and spend my days with other fellow creatives in the gym, talking with the locals, going for walks in the dunes or around the docks, singing karaoke, dancing, then crying and watching episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Sleeping and recovering. I learned about self-care and manifestation, tarot, and shoveling snow. More importantly, I wrote about it without hesitation or self-sabotage, without any distractions. That’s where the poems began to grow legs; that’s where the book started to claim agency, to ask for a name. In many ways, the poems reflect several of these unforgettable, life-changing moments and experiences. 



What was your writing process? Your editing process? Did you adopt a unique process for this book, or do you have a “go-to” approach for all your writing?


The best way to describe my process is “sporadic.” As a full-time educator, finding time to write often means designating most of my summer break to reading, writing, drafting new ideas, and revising or resurrecting old ones. The months leading up to summer vacation are what I call my hoarding period; it’s when I consciously (but mainly subconsciously) collect images, ideas, and memories and store them for later. Sometimes, I write these down as a vague sketch of an idea because when I am obsessed with a line or image, I have to pursue it wholeheartedly. I must eat, breathe, and sleep that line until it develops into a poem. However, this is easier said than done. I am a slow writer, and given that I have ADHD, sustaining my attention on a robust project requires a lot of energy and uninterrupted time, which can be challenging and frustrating. Once I get started or inspired, I find that the ideas simmering in my head begin to boil. I will pursue the poem for hours, days, and even weeks. I tend to write during the early morning hours before the world wakes up, and any distractions can disrupt my process. I tend to write a line and pace around. Write a line, then pace around. I repeat this process until I have a stanza. I will usually recite all the lines out loud before moving on to the next line. Typically, during this process, I wash dishes, run errands, or even walk while the poem forms in my head. I continue this process until I reach a satisfying ending and feel I have said all that I need to say. The plus side of carrying these ideas for months is that the poem will arrive fully formed. This was how I wrote most of the poems in Cowboy Park.



How did you get into writing? Can you pinpoint a memory where it all began for you?


My writing journey has been nonlinear and unconventional. Growing up in a Spanish-speaking household, English was my second language. Literacy felt daunting, and my academic development was full of setbacks. I attended remedial courses for several years, had after-school tutoring sessions, and worked with a learning specialist before school to improve my reading comprehension skills. I also worked to get rid of my accent. I felt demoralized, and reading and writing seemed like realms that didn’t belong to someone like me, especially when I couldn’t relate to any of the characters in the books I was assigned.

Everything changed in fifth grade. It was my first time in an English-only class, and my teacher, Ms. Murdock, brought new ideas to the classroom and made writing feel possible. She encouraged us to free-write without worrying about rules, allowing us to feel free with our work—something I didn’t think was possible, something I didn’t know I needed. She often encouraged me to flex my creative muscles and made me feel that my words and writing mattered.


On one occasion, she asked the class to close our eyes as she read “Dog’s Death” by John Updike. As she read, I remember being overwhelmed by a tremendously sad emotion. When I opened my eyes, I looked around to see if anyone else was experiencing the same thing. I felt isolated, thinking I didn’t fully understand the content. But then, I noticed that Ms. Murdock had tears in her eyes.


This small moment had a profound effect on me. It taught me that poetry and literature were more than just words on a page. They carried emotion, life, and a pulse that stirred the reader. This strengthened my relationship with literacy. From that point on, I was hooked. I am forever grateful to her and all of my teachers. These are the experiences I bring with me to the classroom. As a writer and educator, I hope to instill a similar experience in my students. 



Do you have any advice for new and emerging writers? Is there anything you wish you knew?


One key piece of advice I tell my students, which I wish I had known early in my academic development, is to be patient and kind with their work and their words. Writing takes courage; it's as though you are taking your heart out and giving it to the world. As a result, many folks just starting might get deterred by how their writing gets received, dissected, and critiqued. Be dogged. Write with sincerity and honesty so that the poem can breathe. Exist. Write about your passions, grievances, and emotions that texture your life's best and worst parts. Always remember that there is light at work; it just takes time and dedication to polish that light. Stay encouraged because it is part of the process. And embracing the process helps one's resilience and discipline. Give yourself grace and permission to fail. Take your time. Pausing and starting again is a part of writing, even in the darkest moments. There's no shelf-life to your talent and creativity. You are still a writer, even in the frustration that may occur during the process. That's the magic behind it. Even if it may take months or years to write, the words are always there. They will always be there. 




 




Eduardo Martínez-Leyva was born in El Paso, TX to Mexican immigrants. His work has appeared in Poetry Magazine, The Boston Review, The Journal, Frontier Poetry, Best New Poets, and elsewhere. He’s received fellowships from CantoMundo, The Frost Place, the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, the Lambda Literary Foundation, and a teaching fellowship from Columbia University, where he earned his MFA. His debut poetry collection, Cowboy Park, was selected by Amaud Jamaul Johnson as the winner of the Felix Pollak Prize in Poetry and is forthcoming in November 2024 from The University of Wisconsin Press. 


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