Oh yes. Now comes the stage fright. I have no issues with submitting my work, putting it out there for editors to love or to hate. I have no issue with rejection, not really. Acceptances are always nice surprises.
Now that I’ve seen the galleys for One Last Cigarette, I’m nervous. It’s not that I don’t think it’s ready or that I despise my own work – nope. It’s just that little bit of stage fright before the “big” speech. It’s exciting and it’s awesome and terrifying all at once.
I want to thank all the fine writers who have offered their blurbs for me – here are a couple of them. Thanks so much to Meg Tuite, Erin Elizabeth Smith, Anne Champion, Katie Longofono, Matt Porubsky, and David Tomaloff. Can’t wait to start planning all my readings and to hold this book in my hands!
Mary Stone Dockery lights fireworks, “alters the cells around us”, in this thunderous, fierce, necessary collection, One Last Cigarette. Dockery consumes us, heart, spleen and lungs, “seeking each crack” within the psyche, blasting it until we stare into space waiting for the next cascade of “what color the world is after a night rain”.
One Last Cigarette is mesmerizing, reverberates our explosive, unexplored lives back at us. It’s brilliant and unforgettable. Read it!
–Meg Tuite, author of Bound by Blue
One Last Cigarette is an intimate collection that reads like a bundle of love letters. Sensual but never vulgar, Stone Dockery conjures the ghosts of mothers, lovers, and children in these tightly crafted poems. She drops us into the tension of desire and loss coexisting in relationships with melancholy lines like “I allowed you inside me/a gloomy fog seeking each crack the last comfort.” These poems are reality seen through a prism: distorted Midwestern landscapes, a glimpse of a couple through a haze of smoke, hallucinations experienced in real-time.
-Katie Longofono, author of The Angel of Sex
Mary Stone Dockery’s poetry engages with the world through a keen and surprising vision. Her images shift and reveal truths by conjuring a kaleidoscopic inner and outer landscape. Reading Dockery’s work is akin to watching a lightning storm through your window: you watch the flashes of light in simultaneous terror and awe as you witness beauty alongside destruction—you realize you are safe, but you still flinch with every thunderclap. The visceral and haunting words of Dockery fulgurate this same way: you’ll hold her blazes behind your eyelids long after you read them, you’ll keep her rich sensuality stored under your own tongue.
–Anne Champion, author of Reluctant Mistress