Uprooting to a new environment can certainly unsettle one’s usual writing perspectives and relocating to one of the newest states in our nation has been an eye opener. I left the Pioneer Valley, my home for over 40 years, and recently moved to Anchorage, Alaska, to help raise my only grandchild.
It’s been a challenge acclimating to life in such a vast, stunning yet unforgiving landscape, one that is exhibiting extreme climate change as the tundra melts. It’s also a place where American colonialism feels raw.
Although the U.S. purchased Russia in 1867, the 1862 Homesteading Act was not launched in the Alaskan territory until 1898, and land was still available until 1986! The takeover of federal lands, once stewarded by Alaska Natives, is still a vivid part of many residents’ immediate histories. No wonder there are so many memoirs written by both new settlers as well as indigenous survivors. History throbs here.
I live in the state’s largest city which is home to 40% of the Alaska’s mere 730,000 residents. I was astonished to learn how diverse the city is with over 120 languages represented in the school system. I was also surprised to discover that most voters register as independents.
Even though my home is mere five minutes from downtown in a residential neighborhood, the nearby park lagoon serves as a veritable wildlife refuge, and I’m ready to welcome our perennial swan couple’s return. A moose may be feasting on nearby tree bark or bushes so watch out backing out of your driveway. And, yes, you should carry bear spray if you take a hike in the woods although it’s a badge of honor not to!
The weather in southcentral Alaska is only slightly colder than New England yet we still had three feet of snow left on the ground in mid-April. It’s “breakup” season as iced-over rivers and inlets begin to crack and melt. With luck, daffodils and tulips may bloom by late May, and in June vegetation will thrive in overdrive with so much sunlight. My favorite pastime is observing the play of pink and purple light on a distance snow-covered volcano seen from my writing desk. This “alpenglow” treats the soul just before sunrise and sunset.
So throw out the comfortable New England calendar! Here we have long winters, fleeting spring breakups, short steroidal summers and brief autumns before the darkness descends. Include the auroras and earthquakes, and you have a new writing palette for sure.
There is a robust literary community across the state, often facilitated through Zoom due to considerable distances between cities and villages. Enticing in-person writing workshops are also offered. My favorite is the four-day Kachemak Bay Writers’ Conference located in Homer.
There are two statewide writing organizations similar to our beloved Straw Dog. The Alaska Writers Guild is the oldest writing organization, established in 1975, and offers craft and publishing workshops, a yearly conference and coordination with national subgroups such as the Alaska Chapter of Book Writers and Illustrators as well as the Alaska Romance Writers. This group supports writers of mostly mystery, sci-fi, romance, children’s lit and alternative history. The second group called 49 Writers offers similar opportunities, and most authors in this group write literary fiction, non-fiction, memoir and poetry.
I must admit that there are fewer reading opportunities here due to the extensive distances between libraries and bookstores within the state. The nearest continental U.S. city is Seattle, four hours by plane. Book launch tours must be carefully planned and financed. Fortunately, Alaskans have long ago learned to create their own fun close to home.
The Cirque Journal, open to writers of the Pacific Rim, organizes monthly readings in Anchorage with a unique and nourishing format. Named “Poetry Parley,” a featured writer reads their own work for 20 to 30 minutes, followed by the writer reading works from their “poet of influence,” which is announced ahead of time. Audience members bring poems by this author, easily accessible on the internet, and share the mike. If there is time left, a quick “Fringe” ensues, open to anyone to read anything.
Although I may always be referred to as a Cheechako, a newcomer, I sense my poems transforming. I hope my writing will eventually spread alpenglow to my readers as I adjust to magpies and ravens, blue lupines and magenta fireweed, yellow birch and tiaga evergreens as well as the push and pull of light and dark.
About the Author
Terry served as a Straw Dog founding board member and officer and is thrilled that SDWG continues to flourish. She performed
as a professional harpsichordist before teaching 5th and 6th grades in the Amherst public schools for many years. She earned her MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts and has since published two poetry collections entitled Coalescence (2014 Honorable Mention in the New England Book Festival) and Plunge (2019) as well as a chapbook from Shanti Arts entitled the stars, your eyes (2026). www.terrysjohnsonpoet.com