I'm Major Jackson and this is the slowdown.

I'm Major Jackson and this is the slowdown. slow down.

Last year I traveled to multiple book festivals in Portland, Miami, and the Twin Cities to promote Razzle Dazzle.

The climate of live music, food trucks, and books is the far side of my solitary life at my desk.

Wherever large numbers of readers gather in one place, I feel the exhilaration of being a writer.

Next to independent bookstores,

shout out to open books in Seattle,

Parnassas in Nashville, and Northshire books in Manchester, Vermont.

Festivals are where I make the deep plunge to support poets.

I hope you do too.

I typically pack an extra bag for books I'll purchase and have signed by my favorite

authors and I'm lucky to get to share the stage with a few of them.

Last year, I relished soful conversations with Ross Gay,

Jane Hirschville, Carrie Miller, Tracy K Smith, and Matthew Soproeder.

In the green room, over cans of sparkling water,

we catch up with each other.

We applaud each other's achievements and inquire about family and

latest projects. And maybe even more importantly, there is that celebratory atmosphere, gaining insights on a range of topics,

the exaltation of books and authors. The thoughtful public conversations feel like democracy at its best.

I smile, give hugs and daps. But then I feel this dissonance between my public self and the me on the

page. Sometimes I find it difficult to navigate my persona as a poet in the

very real emotional context out of which my poems emerge. A demanding work schedule, the dictates of parenting and being a life partner,

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