Hello again

Hello again!

I have an odd assortment of things to post here. Small change, really, as nothing too large or life changing has occured, and yet–I guess you could say a lot of little things have added up.

  • Two copies of my chapbook, Children, Apostates are sitting on a self in an adorable indie bookstore in Ashland, Oregon. I mean, something I wrote–thirteen things I wrote, tucked between pretty covers, is sitting in a real bookstore. I’m pleased.
  • Virga Magazine was given some press recently, over at Trish Hopkinson’s blog and as a result, we saw an influx of awesome submissions! The Spring issue cut-off is March 31st, so come April, I’m excited to gather all the lovelies I’ve accepted and arrange them, format them into the inaugural issue, releasing May 1st!
  • I finished my full length poetry manuscript. Okay…that last sentence should be read: I kept myself from tweaking and/or overhauling the thing long enough to send it to three presses. Two contests, and one open reading period. As it stands, I’m owning it. It may undergo more meddling, but I’m owning it. It’s really something to stand back after, oh, I guess about a year and a half, and see how the voices have filtered down, how the arc became obvious. I asked the lovely writers on the Binders Group on facebook how long some of them had to wait before their debut collections were picked up. It ran a gamut. A lot of folks said they waited a year or two. A lot more folks said it took them 5-8 years. I’m not patient enough for half a decade. Please, if you care, send me all the good juju, good vibes, etc. so that this thing finds a home in, ohhh….a year? Maybe?
  • This week, after a bit of a dry spell acceptance wise, a long-ish poem was picked up by the guys running WINDOW (patient sounds). Oh man. This poem is my opus. It’s my favorite thing I’ve written. And it took a year of subbing it for it to finally land. I’m pleased as punch! Stay tuned!
  • the featured image for this post has nothing to do with anything other than that I like it.

And that’s about it!

What are you lovelies up to?


A New Literary Endeavor

benuaI’ve been scheming for two years. Today, I stopped scheming and launched my very own online poetry journal. As I type this, I’m a ball of happy-anxious. Virga Magazine, or just Virga, as it will likely shorten to, is officially OPEN FOR SUBMISSIONS!

Please visit VIRGA

If you’re a poet, send us something! If you know a few brilliant poets, tell THEM to send us something! We’re very excited to start reading your stuff!

postscript: Yes, I’m still writing. To see my latest (and strangest) piece to date, go HERE.

Dusted with flour, dusted with birdsong


Hey guys,

I suppose some updates are in order. It is no longer a swelter here, but a brisk and colorful autumn. This weekend in particular, we’re in for a bit of weather–a typhoon off the coast is heading in with hurricane force winds and a lot of rain, so we’re battening down, crossing our fingers we can keep cozy inside. Cross your fingers for us, too, if you think of it! Here in the PNW, we’ve got it pretty good in terms of weather. Until the random….well, typhoon, apparently.

I have a few newsy bits to relay in terms of the writing.

Crab Creek Review, The Ekphrastic Review, and Dead King Magazine have all accepted poems. You can read the ekphrastic poem at ER on thier site right now!

Also, over the month of August, a streak of inspiration hit and a chapbook was born. Not just born, but homed!”Sylvia Plath in the Major Arcana” (tentatively titled) is coming out with Anchor & Plume Press as part of their 2017 list! I couldn’t be more grateful to Amanda, the editor of A&P.

What are you lovelies up to?



New Poems


Hi all

Well, it’s the dog days of summer. The heat and the slow moving days can feel to this girl a little oppressive. Writing gets done, but the sun just seems to idle at a blistering 90-105 degree heat in the sky, and creativity seems to need some shade. Shade is hard to find. Right before these appropriately named dog days were inaugurated,  however, late may-ish, I had a few pieces accepted by some great publications; one flash fiction piece, which is forthcoming from HYPERtext Magazine – so stay tuned for that – and a couple poems. Poems I can now finally share with you today, at Red Paint Hill and The Minola Review, respectively. Follow the links to read the pieces.

I also have a piece forthcoming later this month, which was acccepted by the amazing poet Jenn Ghivan, editor of Tinderbox Poetry Journal! Look her up, she’s just incredible and so talented, which makes this acceptance particularly awesome!

What are all you writer’s up to? How are you beating this heat??




Hi guys.

me me me.jpgThese days, I write here infrequently. Always the one to make a big start and then feel reality set in too real, I fizzled on the Say What Wednesdays and Sunday Posts, as you’re aware, if you check in here.

I’m keeping it small and manageable these days. I’m playing to my strengths, or what I hope are my strengths. I’m writing.

As other writers have done, I’m shifting the emphasis here. More narcissism, of course. More relevance. I realize the only thing I’ve really been doing here is alerting you readers to literary worthies online or alerting you to my own internal meanderings, potential fodder for my own future literary endeavors. When other writers do this, they often do so under a domain dedicated solely to thier work.

So, while I did try to do the consulting thing, the interview thing, the review thing….I think now this space should simply be a landing site for readers of things I write. This site will, henceforth, be an unglorified “author site.” I will be changing the name of the domain soon. Something close to my name– Laura Page.

Buffalo Elliot is not dead, however.

Though I’m not sure how the moniker will manifest in the near future, there are tentative plans. Please keep that, if you care, on some back burner!

I hope you’ll keep “landing here.” Despite my half-starts. Despite it all.







I don’t think I worried about anything before I had kids. I just don’t remember stressing about how I was living my life, about whether or not I was doing enough. BEING enough. Lately, despite my efforts and pep talks, I get overwhelmed–with the accumulated mess that is adulthood.


What a weird word. When I first heard the word, I categorized it with other words I thought equally weird (but which denoted not so hard-to-describe things), like “pithy” and “kitsch” and “svelte.”

Choas. A mess.

No matter how many cute little Instagram memes encourage me to “embrace it,” I’ve always been on the defensive with my messes, with my own life’s particular brand of chaos. I’m not sure that will ever change. If I can’t embrace, though, at least (social media assures me) I’m not alone in dealing with things.

While I deal, I continue to write. And read.

Both I’ve been doing rather intensively, hence the lack of posts. See the picture above for one title I’m especially super duper excited about starting. Anchor and Plume’s new release from Robert Vivian. Check out the title here!


Hi all,

Today I just wanted to direct your attention to a couple great new authors with titles out now (available for order and pre-order) at one of my very favorite independent small presses, Anchor & Plume.


I had the distinct privilege of interviewing both Ryan Tahmaseb and Lindsay Illich for the A&P site. Click the links for the virtual sit-downs above!

While you’re there, pick up these writers’ books! Or browse the shop for other amazing titles. Support small presses, folks! Enter HERE!


Proxy, Poem, Daughter, Denizen


Proxy, Poem, Daughter, Denizen

is the title of a new poem I am drafting. I think it’s finished. But a rule I try to follow with my writing is to not mentally stamp “finished” on a piece until a reasonable amount of time–a couple weeks at the least, more often a month or a few months–has passed. If it passes the test of time, if in the end I can sit with it and my intentions still resonate, then, well, it’s done.

That said, I feel on to something. Maybe because the poem is deeply personal. Maybe because I see its niche in the larger project I’m working on (a poetry collection that is coming along at a lovely snail’s pace). Maybe because I stepped outside my comfort zone to write it. It says things I want to say, Maybe with a little work-shopping, I can learn it to say them better, but I’m happy to be writing again.

I spent several days last week with my family. We remembered my grandmother, who passed away earlier this month. It was a difficult time, but also rewarding. The siblings have grown up and scattered themselves far and wide, but we were all together for awhile and that was nice.

Sometimes the passing of a person brings out that person’s influence in others. It’s remarkable to me how individuals in a family rub off on one another, how we’re the products of others decisions, others motivations, others great loves and hates, happinesses and heartbreaks. That sounds pretty deterministic (a case in point, coming as I do from a lot of staunch regular baptists!) but I don’t mean we aren’t free agents or that we are somehow incapable of steering our lives. I just mean that families are guiding factors for all of us, for better or worse.

I’m learning, with poetry in particular, to embrace shaping influences. Guiding factors as it were. It’s a little leap that I feel I’ve been waiting to make for a long time.

I hope my little poem someday finds a home somewhere. But I’m content for now just to sit with it’s intentions and parse them out a little more for myself.

What about you? What guides your art these days?


eddy.jpgI do some of my best thinking while driving. This makes driving sort of an occupational hazard for me, I guess. Nonetheless, I would like to (and must) continue to be able to drive. So one of today’s tasks was to renew registration and get an emissions check on my Volvo.

I got to the DEQ office, however, having failed in multiple ways to ‘adult,’ including:

  • having decided to wear a dress that was  1.) “twirly” and 2.) just a smidge too short, thus having to awkwardly “manage” my person in the weirdly windy DEQ drive-through thing.
  • not having properly filled out my registration renewal form.
  • not having my insurance card on my person and having to call my husband at work to get the policy number

I was a hot mess. Life has been a little stressful lately, and this was just hilariously (but not) icing on the cake of my week, thus far.

Grocery shopping happened after that. The hubs met up with me and we partnered up for this adventure, since I had the two kiddos. No harm no fowl in the isles, thankfully.

On the way home, though, I found myself thinking in an almost meta way about the process–my process–of cycling through a day’s events. This image popped up in my mind of eddies. In water. In a river, specifically. An eddy is that thing that happens when water in a current hits something like a rock or another obstruction; there’s all the expected movement (sometimes urgent, aggravated) of a traveling body of water–until that water collides with something, at which point it slows quite suddenly, quiets, and takes a moment to decide what to do next. I thought while I was driving, the kids hot and tired and hitting their own eddies of almost-sleep in the back, that this “deciding” can have positive or negative implications. On one hand, a space to stop and feel and go ’round a few times for clarity is good. Everybody needs those pauses. On the other hand, sometimes an eddy can becomes something else–indecision, insecurity, a distinct failure to move forward. The past few weeks have shown me how my eddies do both. I often pause and decompress in what I hope are healthy, thoughtful ways. But I also stay too long in certain places, out of fear, insecurity, self-doubt.

I might be in an eddy now. With this blog, among many other things. Be patient with me. I hope to make good decisions. I hope to make more courageous, more self-assured decisions. I hope to make more magical mistakes–where before I might have made only bummer ones out of a ‘perfection or bust’ mentality.  I’m taking it just one bend in the river at time.

Until the next one, friends.