Kameryn Alexa Carter is a Black poet and the founding co-editor of Emergent Literary, an online journal for the work of black and brown artists. Her work has appeared in Bennington Review, Phoebe Journal, Torch Literary Arts, The Best American Poetry, Portable Gray, and elsewhere. She was a 2024 Pushcart Prize winner and is a poetry student in the Helen Zell Writers Program at the University of Michigan. She is the author of New Amerykah Part Two: Return of the Ankh. Her debut poetry collection, Antediluvian, which was born in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, explores what it means to go within, literally and figuratively.
In a virtual chat, I talked to Carter about how this collection came to be, discerning between the author and the speaker of the work, and what writing life looks like.
Tsahai Makeda: It’s so nice to make your acquaintance, and big congratulations on your debut, Antediluvian. Your collection is absolutely gorgeous. It’s haunting and thought-provoking. Tell me a little bit about it. How did it come to you? Over what course of time did you write it?
Kameryn Alexa Carter: The bulk of the poems and the collection were written over a period of about five years. It sort of started to take shape around the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020. There were a few poems that were kind of baking before then, but that was when I really started to produce a larger volume of work. It started out actually as a chapbook, so many of the poems that you see in there were sort of in the smaller format before I kept writing. I took a break from it for about a year, and then I said, oh well, I think I’m seeing a connection between all of these individual poems. That helped me to kind of continue writing over that five-year period. It was also really a way to help me work through some of my anxieties around being inside, so some of the themes in the book, you’ll see, are about claustrophobia and agoraphobia. The book was really also a way for me to work through some of that on the page.
TM: Okay, beautiful. You just mentioned something that I did want to touch on. Are there any parts of the collection that didn’t make it?
KAM: Yes, there are a few series and a few individual poems that didn’t make it. If you notice, it’s a pretty slim book, pretty compact so there are quite a few things that got cut. The series, which are the sketches that are in the finished copy, there are many more of those. The goal was to shift from a more lyrical and ornamental voice into a kind of pared down, what can I see, what am I hearing? Like a transcription of the experience. I started doing those during the course of writing the book and then I just kept going and kept going and kept going, so some of those got cut. Some individual poems I cut as well. Ones that kind of more closely follow the theme of religion. I wanted to kind of narrow down the scope. Maybe those will get published at a later date. We’ll see.
TM: So for this body of work, you don’t really miss them or need them because what you have here is whole and complete the way that you have it.
KAM: Thank you.
TM: There are references to religion and music in these poems that may be amiss for some readers. I’m a reader who reads with a dictionary and I’m a writer who knows that good writers are great readers. The beauty in the language that you have in this work is strong enough to captivate and hold the reader at attention, the imagery is strong but subtle, they pack a punch. The first one that grabbed me was in Interior, “I rode a bicycle in figure 8 at the street’s dead end. My ponytails were pendulums.”
I can see that in my reader-mind’s eye. It’s the rhythm of it too, for what a pendulum is. A whole girl with two ponytails as the instrument, incredible. My mother used to comb my hair like that, so I could also feel it as I’m reading it. Gorgeous.
KAM: Thank you.
TM: Another one. In Open the Door, “A little Florida water between my breasts bolsters me enough to leave the apartment, to dedicate this verse, (albeit to letters) stilettos slicing through dusk.” That’s just someone walking, right. Stiletto slicing through dusk. The way that you take something so ordinary, so every day normal, and make it art is breathtaking. We don’t really think about the act of walking when we’re walking, we just do it, and to put such beauty to it, you do that exceptionally well in this collection. There are other places too, but those two really grabbed me. Now, I won’t assume that the author, yourself, and the speaker in the book are one and the same so tell me, how did religion or spirituality impact the speaker’s views on mental health in this collection?
KAM: It’s interesting that you made that caveat in the beginning too, because that is something that I struggled with, the slippage between the author and the speaker. A lot of times throughout the writing of the book, I felt like I was exercising something. I was speaking to a colleague recently about the difference between the speaker and the poet, and she said, “I just want the poet to have its own agency.” And I thought that was so interesting because I think that’s the way I feel about it. In terms of religion and mental health, I think that the speaker is definitely wrestling with organized religion and wrestling with the Bible. I think that the spirituality that runs throughout the book is kind of a way of negotiating the mental health issues within the book as well. When I think about it in retrospect, the book is a lot more linear than I really thought it was. It sort of begins in a place of agoraphobia and begins in this acute state of panic and anxiety. Then towards the end, especially getting to the pump catharsis, and it’s spring, it’s spring, and spring, and just this idea of sort of something is coming over the horizon. I feel like that’s one of the ways that the speaker is coming out of that wrestling. Religion plays a big role, the Bible plays a big role, and I think it becomes more spirituality towards the end in general.
TM: What are some of the works or people, or times in history or whatever comes to you, that influenced this body of work? Now, I know you started it during the COVID pandemic, so that in itself has an impact because it altered the way we had to navigate our physical space. But what else impacted and influenced you as a writer as it pertains to this body of work?
KAM: I often say I’m stuck in the seventies. That is one period that I really feel has affected this collection and affects my work in general, not only musically, but also in terms of poets. This book is populated with a lot of different poetic influences and I like to say it’s kind of haunted by a lot of patron saints. When I think about poets from the seventies that really affected the writing of the book, I think Bob Kaufman and Henry Dumas. I also think about Wanda Coleman and Lucille Clifton, and there are all of these people that I feel are with me when I’m writing. I often imagine the people in the book that are kind of like my literary and musical predecessors sitting at a long table at dinner or something like that, and everybody’s chatting and having cocktails and really good food. And I think that’s the way that I view being haunted, as actually positive. It actually feels like these people are constantly with me. Stevie’s album, Music of my Mind, was always playing while I was writing. That’s kind of where my brain has been stuck recently.
TM: Wonderful. I love that the essence of them is tangible for you. It comes through in the work. I want to pivot a little bit and talk about writing as practice for you. We all have things to do and everyone’s actively doing them every day. You are a student currently, so that in itself is a job. There’s work to be done there. You run a journal, you manage your daily life, and we haven’t even begun talking about your day job. So with all of those responsibilities, how do you write? And by that, I mean, do you have a formally structured disciplined regimen and routine or do you just go as it comes to you when you find a pocket or a moment?
KAM: I think this question is always really interesting because I feel like I have lived so many different kinds of lives in such a short period of time and I often think actually of Lucille Clifton writing in between mothering and writing on a scrap of paper. That’s a part of how I felt when I was working a nine-to-five because I didn’t really have the flexibility to kind of wait for the muses to come visit me. It was more, I’m writing before work, I’m writing after work, this is my life. I don’t think I’m naturally a very disciplined writer. I think I do like to be visited by the muses and just allow inspiration to come to me, which I don’t think is a very popular way of approaching it. I’m not sure.
TM: I agree. I don’t think it’s very popular, but I also think that some people secretly aren’t telling the truth about how they write, yeah?
KAM: Yes. Now being a student is, frankly, a huge one-eighty for me because even when I would write during my nine-to-five days, it wasn’t every single day. There were still times where I would go days without writing, or even if I did write, it was just a line or a word that I liked or whatever. Having that, every week you know, this is what you’re doing, you have to produce, produce, produce, has been really useful for me because I think it has helped me cultivate more of a robust writing practice, a more robust reading practice as well. That has helped me not just wait around for inspiration, but kind of be more intentional about my writing practice, for sure.
TM: It feels familiar.
KAM: Mm hmm. I try to have that balance.
TM: Yeah, that’s good. Balance is very helpful. Okay, now this is your second book within twelve months, yay, and congratulations on that. What does your writing community look like, and how has that shifted and sustained you leading up to this book?
KAM: It is very interesting that I started writing the bulk of this book during the pandemic, and it’s a little ironic because I felt so isolated in the beginning, given the fact that it was hard to maintain community when we were not able to gather. So I just started seeking people out that I knew from Twitter and I decided that I wanted to cultivate some more serious, poetic relationships. There are some amazing artists that have come into my life through that channel. But also, when I started working in arts administration, there were so many artists coming through my office at all times. That was such a beautiful experience for me because I was able to make friendships and partnerships through that with artists in various disciplines that have persisted beyond that point too. Then another aspect of community for me is the journal, Emergent Literary. I do feel like the contributors that we are able to publish stay in our orbit long beyond that particular issue. and that was always the goal, to create more community for black and brown folks, even if it’s across space and across time. Just feeling that level of commitment to each other and to each other’s success was really important, and that has been another way that I’ve really drawn community from.
TM: That’s beautiful. And thank you for that, because as a writer, knowing firsthand how many spaces there are, and aren’t, for people who write that look like us, that kind of community matters. I love that. I want to ask you what your publishing journey was like. Your first book, New Amerykah Part 2, Return of the Ankh, came out in 2025 from Bloomsbury Academic. And then this gorgeous, gorgeous collection, Antediluvian, is coming out February 24th from University of Pittsburgh Press. Were you agented? What was this journey like?
KAM: No, I have never had an agent so the two journeys were very different for the two books. I’ll talk about what I affectionately call the Badu book first. That was a response to an open call. I didn’t even know that I was writing a book until I said, “You know what? Bloomsbury does this open call for 33⅓.” I was driving down the freeway one day, and I didn’t know what album I would use. Gone Baby, Don’t Be Long came on, and I said, “This is it. This is the album that I want to do.” I sent in my materials and applied for the open call and it got accepted. That process was so quick. It was like whiplash. You have a year to write this book, now go do it. That was a really intensive process for me. I tend to be a slower writer so writing long prose was a different feeling for me because I am used to writing in short form prose. Doing that whole arc was intense and it was pretty surprising the way it happened.
Then with this book, it got rejected quite a bit, as we all have experienced and are all used to, and it was submitted in so many different phases, two various contests and open calls. I guess it just was in the space that it needed to be when I submitted it to Pitt. I mean, it has all been such a surprise and all been such a pleasure, you know, to feel so supported by my press. It’s just been amazing.
TM: That’s nice to hear. Like you said, we’ve all been rejected, our work, then when the green light turns on, the process is pretty nice. That’s wonderful and I’m glad for that for you.
KAM: Thank you.
TM: You’re welcome. When did you know you were a writer? Like what brought you to the pen?
KAM: That is a great question, and I will just give so much credit to my mother, who’s an educator. I showed an excitement about reading very early on, and she was very clear about nurturing that. I remember the first book that made me think, I want to do something like this. I had to have been, like four, and it was Tar Beach by Faith Ringgold. I read that book and I saw the pictures, and I just thought, I want to make a book. I remember that book so clearly. It’s not accidental that there were so many black women artists that I was blessed to have exposure to. And I think that was the key for me, thinking, not only do I want to make a book, but people like me make books. That was huge and I give all props to my mom for that because that’s crucial, having that at an early age. I think that was when the seed was planted and I was always writing. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t writing. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to be a writer, and I said that I wanted to be a writer all the time, and I didn’t know how it was gonna happen, but that was my goal, and that was my passion.
TM: It was in you, always. So thank you to your mom for nurturing, because that doesn’t always happen where our grownups recognize a thing in us and say let me pour into this. And then allows you to become who you’re meant to be. So yeah, clap it up for mom for that. What are you most looking forward to once the collection comes out? Do you have a book tour planned?
KAM: Yes, I do have a book tour planned. You know, writing is such a solitary act sometimes so I think what I’m thrilled about is being able to interact with other readers and lovers of writing, around the collection. It’s very daunting, and honestly, I can say I’m terrified.
TM: But it’ll be fun.
KAM: Yeah, but I’m also equally excited because it just feels like I have been alone with this collection for so long that I think it’ll feel so lovely to be able to open it up to just interact with other people about it and interact with other people as a poet in general that I’m really looking forward to.
TM: Speaking of fun, what’s the last book that you read for fun? And what’s the last book that you read for craft?
KAM: Oh, okay, I’ll answer the second one. So the last book I read for craft was My Trade is Mystery: Seven Meditations from a Life in Writing by Carl Phillips. It just really opened my eyes on how to create a writing life. I think that we, as a culture, especially recently, are very intent on creating a writing practice but we’re not as interested necessarily in the holistic writing life. What does that look like? What does writing look like even when you’re not writing? How is the way that you’re living contributing to your life and your sensibilities as a poet? That book really, really opened my eyes to that. I would highly recommend it.
TM: I will check that out.
KAM: Yeah, it’s great, and Carl Phillips is so brilliant. And the last book I read for fun, what was the last book I read for fun? Oh, I was reading two books at the same time. One was called DMZ Colony, and this is by Don Mee Choi. This is a book of poems. Then the other one was Margery Kempe by Robert Glück, and that one is a book of prose. It sort of weaves in a storyline of the Christian mystic Margery Kempe with a man who’s falling in love. So those were the last two.
TM: What’s one thing that you do to recharge and unwind?
KAM: Oh, that’s a good question. I love to bake and I’m finally able to bake a little bit more now. I was just so busy all the time when I lived in Chicago that I wasn’t able to bake as much as I wanted to. I’m finally getting back to experimenting in the kitchen and that is very relaxing for me. I also just enjoy spending time with my peers and family. There’s nothing like being around people who you don’t feel like you have to drain your social battery for, that is just the most lovely feeling. I’m really grateful to have such a big support system around me and I enjoy just having fun with them.
TM: Now, what’s a wisdom that you’ve learned from your journey, writing and publishing that you can share with emerging writers? A tip, a trick, a trade. Do this, don’t do that.
KAM: I still consider myself an emerging writer, of course, and I’m still always learning from folks that have come before me. I think what I’ve learned from them, and from my own experience, is just to trust yourself because there’s going to be a lot of doubt as a writer and we’re not in a world that necessarily encourages people to become writers. I think that you have to be very, very in tune with your own intuition and just trust that voice that says, keep going, this is ready, or this is not ready. Trust the people around you as well, you’re really close readers. I call them my brain trust.
TM: Oh, I like that.
KAM: The really close readers around you to cultivate that intuition in you as well. Also get a mentor. That is the biggest piece of advice is get a mentor, build community, and trust yourself. Those are the things that I would say are crucial.
TM: Golden. That’s really good advice. Some of the things that I also live by. Understanding too that this industry is all subjective. It’s all who picks it up, who likes it at the moment that you send it and not taking a lot of it personally. Taking it personal is how doubt creeps in. If you are in line with your inner man, then you’ll be on the good foot. Great advice, thank you for that. To wrap us up, let me ask you, what’s coming next for you outside of your book tour and being in the world with this work? What do you have planned post Antediluvian? Anything that you can share that you’re working on?
KAM: Yeah, right now I’m actually working on a lot of prose, so I’ve been writing about film. Essays. I don’t know what shape it’s gonna take yet, but I’m excited to write about visual culture because it’s definitely something that I don’t get to do often. I have really been committing to my journey of watching a ton of films this year and I’ve been proud of myself for doing that. I just have always wanted to write about film so I’m excited to continue doing that, and hopefully you’ll see some of that work. Then I’m always writing about music. I recently had an essay come out in Portable Gray about the Jackson 5. I’m just contemplating what my next curiosity will be and where it will take me with regard to music as well.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Kameryn Alexa Carter is a poet and founding coeditor of Emergent Literary, a journal for the work of black and brown artists. She was a visiting teaching artist at the Poetry Foundation and is a Pushcart Prize winner. Her work has appeared in Bennington Review, Phoebe Journal, Torch Literary Arts, Bat City Review, The Best American Poetry 2023, and elsewhere. She is the author of Erykah Badu’s New Amerykah Part Two: Return of the Ankh.
ABOUT THE INTERVIEWER: Tsahai Makeda is a Jamaican-American writer who writes about the human experience and its impact on one’s sense of self in the world. When not writing, she is reading or knitting. She earned her BA in English, minor in Philosophy, from The State University of New York at New Paltz and her MFA in Fiction Writing from Sarah Lawrence College. She teaches workshops at The Writing Institute at Sarah Lawrence College and has received support for her work from The Center for Black Fiction and The Kenyon Review. She received The Caribbean Writer’s 2023 Canute A. Brodhurst Prize for her short story, ‘For Generations’. Her work appears in Killens Review of Arts & Letters, Women Who Submit, Epiphany, Breadcrumbs, REWRITE London, The Caribbean Writer, & Prairie Schooner. She’s recently finished writing her memoir and is in conversations to get it out into the world. She lives at the foot of the Catskills where she writes and reads, and writes some more.