Flagstaff Writer's Project

Like a 'taleidoscope,' new anthology captures many facets of life out West

By Mary Sojourner, Flagstaff Resident

A few years ago, Peter Friederici, activist and writer of The Suburban Wild, a fine collection of essays published in 1999, told me about the Hub City Writers' Project. Writers, aware of the increasing power of mega-publishing and distribution corporations, had gathered in working groups to bring their words to their community. An anthology followed. Then, another. Readings. Benefits. Peter asked me if I wanted to be part of The Flagstaff Writers' Project.

My theoretical comadre said, "You bet." My actual hermit found herself not wanting to go to meetings.  Peter carried on, met with other writers, called for essays for a collection. This spring, he and Jack Doggett asked me to be guest editor.  Here is my introduction to The View from Here, a celebration of community, due out in late November:

Here is Priscilla Aydeloft: "I left in search of dirt. I came west looking for stories that taught the canyons their layered color, for divine lessons designed in dusky pale light..." And, James Jay: "In the splotchy lighting, this is how it started. An Eighties style rapper duked it out with a guy dressed like a prison inmate..."

A twist of the taleidoscope. An old house on a little city street comes into view. Brad Dimock: "It was quarter to three in the morning and the sound of a chain saw screamed up through the bulging kitchen floor. Pretty loud, but we figured it wouldn't take all that long to cut through the railroad tie..." Another twist and we see an old dairy barn on the outskirts of town. Leslie Hutchinson: "On the Vernal Equinox, at dusk, I remembered the Meadow in summer, lush with golden sunflowers, purple lupine and wild roses. Tonight, I close the window slowly on grape hyacinth and lavender crocuses glistening with ice." And here, a quarry, stone old as time. Marie Jackson: "I like best the tall cliff of the old Arizona Red sandstone quarry. The quarry wall looks east; early in the day, when I most like to visit, its layered rock flushes vermilion in the morning sunshine."

You scan suburbia. Ashley Davidson: "I don't know about the keggers in the woods, but I do understand about trying to get away. We are suburbia, the social wastelands, where people live quiet, peaceful lives and kids count down the days until moving on to something bigger." A trailer park, Lisa Miller: "In winter, I go crosscountry skiing and watch for the tracks of Abert's squirrels and striped skunks in the snow. In spring and summer, I avert my eyes from the aging refrigerators the landlord has left rusting in the grass..." A fire look-out, Jean Rukkila: "Want to know a secret? Those craters out there - the distant cinder cones of Haywire, Stewart, Double Pinnacle, Maroon and Moon Craters - they look like a herd of large creatures fleeing the lava flow."

A writer turns the taleidoscope on the past. Kelly Poe Wilson: "Though I love my town now, I adored it ten years ago. I adored its secret places: El Rancho Grande, now a luxury motorcycle dealership; El Patio, now a microbrewery; Henry's Latin Quarter, now a right-hand turn lane on Butler Avenue. These bars, now gone, were like the hidden alcoves they used to place in Victorian gardens..."

A writer points the taleidoscope at views some might prefer not to see. Carol Maxwell: "And here comes The Pearl, walking down the street, sliding his hand across the top of my car, he gives its nose a pat. The man is actually singing 'Zippity-Do-Dah.' This looks more like a musical than a crack house."

A writer gazes at The View some of us believe snares our hearts and keeps us here. Kay Witham: "When the patio was complete, I sat and looked north. Mount Agassiz seemed to rise from my front yard, anchoring itself in my neighborhood before sweeping upward through pine and aspen, fir and spruce to culminate in windswept rock."

There are as many Views as there are writers. We peek into a neighborhood church, scout a hard mountain trail, visit the ardent chambers of a young man's heart. We remember why we came here. And, remember what we hold dear.

Here are mountain, forest and little mountain town for your viewing. Hold these pages to the light. Look through the prisms. May you find reflection - and, transformation. May you find our home.

The View from Here is expected to be in bookstores in late November. There will be readings and postings. Flagstaff Tea Party will keep you posted.

Mary Sojourner is a professional writer whose work has appeared in High Country News, Flag Live!, The Arizona Daily Sun, and on National Public Radio, among others.