#437B Backstory of the Poem “next season will be better” from IT COULD ACCOUNT FOR THE PANIC by Liz Whiteacre; published by Finishing Line Press in March of 2025.
https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/it-could-account-for-the-panic-by-liz-whiteacre/
Can you go through the step-by-step process of writing this poem from the moment the idea was first conceived in your brain until final form? Before writing “next season will be better,” I knew composer Meadow Bridgham would be using the poem as lyrics for a song cycle that explored their experiences with temporal lobe epilepsy (TLE). We got to work as the world tentatively explored post-COVID isolation, so our conversations took place on Zoom. Bridgham was candid about what they’ve experienced during diagnosis of and life with TLE. They recommended YouTube testimonials and resources. I did additional research and reflected on my experiences with spinal injury, diagnosis, and chronic pain. We also talked about metaphors, motifs, etc. that we shared a connection to, like gardening (BELOW RIGHT: strawberry invaded in Liz’s garden)
We came up with a plan to create a song cycle that started with symptoms, moved through diagnosis, and ended on navigating life with TLE. When I started “next season will be better,” I was thinking about my husband—at the time, I reinjured my back and was starting my protocol to heal. I leapt from this personal experience to my notes on Bridgham’s daily TLE experience, deciding to focus on the relationship between the composer and their partner, exploring the daily comfort and support our loved ones provide us. I surprised myself with a love song that explores the complexities of a relationship that evolves with a partner’s chronic symptoms/pain—a poem that shares gratitude and hope for the people that help us weather life’s storms.
Where were you when you started to actually write the poem? And please describe the place in great detail. I was in a make-shift office in my home. When I sit there in an old Duncan Phyfe Roseback chair, to my right there’s a window and a filing cabinet that has a bed pillow where an old orange tabby sleeps (Tweak and Peanut take turns). Behind me, a refrigerator and freezer that hold garden harvests hum. To my left, there’s a bookshelf and closet that holds materials for crafts, an old slideshow projector, and a sewing machine. When I look up, I see a brick wall that’s been painted a caramel color. It doesn’t distract for long—it’s easy to get back to work on the laptop.
What month and year did you start writing this poem? In Spring 2021, composer Meadow Bridgham asked me to create poems/lyrics for a song cycle that shared a story about what life is like for them with temporal lobe epilepsy (TLE) with the goal to raise awareness about TLE through music. “Next season will be better” was part of this art song project. We met previously at University of Indianapolis where we both were faculty who advised students in UIndy’s Art Song project.
Click below to read about TLE
https://www.epilepsy.com/what-is-epilepsy/syndromes/temporal-lobe-epilepsy
Click below to view the UIndy’s Art Song project
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ktx9fszGyvo
Were there any lines in any of your rough drafts of this poem that were not in the final version? And can you share them with us? Dear readers, I did not keep good records! Once the original draft was shared in Google Docs, we had conversations while Bridgham was composing the score. This was my first time crafting a narrative poem that would become an art song, so there were conversations about meter, the sounds of words, whether cabbage moths should appear in a song (Meadow was very supportive and open), and if the poem felt authentic to Bridgham’s experiences…I enjoyed the process of little compromises that helped Bridgham musically interpret the poem and create beautiful instrumentation. The collaboration was very rewarding, and I am proud to have contributed to the project whose goal is to raise awareness of life with temporal lobe epilepsy.
What do you want readers of this poem to take from this poem? I hope readers reflect on their obstacles and acknowledge they can find solace and purpose in adapting to them, learning to work within limitations. It’s my intention that familiar gardening metaphors suggest to readers that facing unpredictability with courage, tenacity, and hope can lead to growth, even amid failures. It makes us resilient. It makes next season better. (BELOW: Liz’s garden)
Which part of the poem was the most emotional of you to write and why? This poem in the song cycle resonates with me because I wove bits of myself into it. Ladybirds (also ladybugs) swarmed my grandmother’s northern Indiana farmhouse in fall time during my youth, and while she was greatly annoyed with them getting into the house, I was charmed and thought them lucky every time they landed on me. Picking ladybird as the term of endearment for the partner in the poem helped me focus on relationships in my life where I felt unconditionally loved, fiercely protected, and positively supported. That, my experience gardening (powdery mildew is a real concern, y’all), and my experiences with twenty years navigating chronic pain, helped me emotionally connect with speaker in the poem.
What surprised me was my response when I heard Bridgham’s composition for the first time, which was played through a software that reads musical scores, and Meadow sang the lyrics to me. The music and vocals add emotional depth. I have no words—it gave me chills. I hope your readers will listen to the song, which was recorded at Yale University during Meadow Bridgham’s doctoral defense (vocally performed by Andrew Durham (ABOVE LEFT) with Bridgham on the piano).
What if seizures were catalysts for creativity? It could account for the panic is a collection of persona poems that leap from a composer’s experiences with Temporal Lobe Epilepsy (TLE), exploring the surreal, unpredictable nature of living with a neurological disorder. Through themes of adversity and resilience, the collection offers readers another perspective on disability and highlights our capacity to adapt, learn, and grow.
Liz Whiteacre is the author of Hit the Ground (2013) and it could account for thepanic (2025). Her poetry has appeared in Wordgathering, Disability Studies Quarterly, Kaleidoscope, Breath & Shadow, Last Leaves, The Score, Flying Island, and other publications. Whiteacre is an associate professor of English at the University of Indianapolis. She teaches creative writing and publishing, as well as advises Etchings Press.
Meadow Bridgham writes acoustic concert music that imbues traditional musical form and harmony with contemporary techniques, often employing pop-inspired, improvisational, and noise-based characteristics. They have worked with important composers such as William Bolcom, Martin Bresnick, Aaron Jay Kernis, Libby Larsen, Bright Sheng, and Joan Tower. Their music has been performed as part of the American Music Festival, the New York Festival of Song, the Westben Composer-Performer Residency, and the Norfolk Chamber Music Festival, among others. Meadow recently earned their Doctorate of Musical Arts degree from the Yale School of Music.
Andrew Durham is an aspiring musician who writes and records his own material that features a heavy, cutting-edge sound. Often performing covers with post-hardcore elements such as screams and breakdowns, he gives old songs new feelings.
