Mary Keating is the author of the memoir in verse Recalibrating Gravity. She is the poetry editor of ScribesMICRO, and is an attorney. She lives in Connecticut.
Q: What inspired you to write Recalibrating Gravity?
A: In 1973, when I was 15, I got into a teenager's Mustang convertible and never walked again. The moment the car crashed, I was transported to an alternate reality. One where I wasn’t “me” to the outside world. I was a trope.
I tried to find authentic books or stories about my new life. They didn’t exist. Disabled people were either tragic or inspirational, but not real people.
Except this one book my parents got me, called You Can Do It From A Wheelchair, with a cover that featured a middle-aged woman right out of the ‘50s. She was in a wheelchair mopping. Mopping! What an ambition to strive for.
I used to joke with my boyfriend about writing a book called You Can Do It In A Wheelchair and really shatter stereotypes. I think that’s when the idea to write my life story germinated.
It’d take me 50 years to compile it. And I never dreamt I’d write it in verse. But that makes perfect sense. The immediacy of poetry breaks the barriers that stereotypes create.
My memoir is the one I wanted to read when I was first injured—to know I could do it (life) in a wheelchair, go far beyond mopping, as long as I didn’t forget to laugh.
Q: The poet Ed Ahern said of the book, “These autobiographical free-verse poems are achingly honest and subversively creative.” What do you think of that description?
A: It’s a great feeling when another poet acknowledges the power of my work—it tells me the poems are doing what I hoped: shifting perspectives.
I chose verse so readers experience disability on a deeper level, with form always enhancing meaning. A long, narrow poem called “Hospital’s Care” might topple over at any moment, while “Still,” shaped like a wheelchair, reflects the glacial pace of progress in spinal cord injury care and cure compared to space travel.
Q: How was the book’s title chosen, and what does it signify for you?
A: After my accident, I couldn't sit without support. None of my core muscles worked. In rehab, my physical therapist said that my paralysis changed my center of gravity. He told me I had to find a new one.
That concept stuck with me long after I learned to sit without falling over, because recalibrating gravity is a metaphor for learning to adapt to, and navigate in, an alien world.
When it came to choose a title, Recalibrating Gravity clicked. My memoir is far more than a disability memoir—just as my life is far more than being a paraplegic.
Life is learning to keep balanced no matter what happens—to keep centered. That's a learned skill honed by adversity. We are recalibrating life’s gravity all the time. The title captures the physical, psychological, and spiritual recalibration illustrated in my memoir.
Q: What impact did it have on you to write this book, and what do you hope readers take away from it?
A: It was and continues to be empowering. From reconnecting with old friends to making new ones at speaking engagements and author events, I’m delighted how my world continues to unfold in ways I never imagined.
A Facebook friend shared a poem about my accident with a young woman who subsequently stopped getting into her boyfriend’s car when he’d been drinking. Hopefully, she stopped him from driving while intoxicated as well.
I hope my poems help others to recalibrate the gravity of any hardship or difficult time they are going through. That they realize disability is human and love is really what this life is all about. Each of us can make this world a kinder place. We don't have to be heroic. Small acts accumulate over time.
One in four people are disabled, over a billion people. Ideally, my readers start insisting places are accessible to everyone. That would be a dream come true.
Q: What are you working on now?
A: I just finished a new poetry collection, My Brain is an Octopus Hiding Haiku, which is loosely structured on the feminine hero’s journey. The overall arc is enhanced by my scuba diving experience of how pressure shifts while navigating a fluid space. The octopus is a perfect metaphor for intelligence, adaptation, and survival.
There’s still a dearth of authentic disability stories, especially on the big screen. I’ve written a few short stories. I hope to finish the screenplay I mapped out which is about a high school athlete who becomes paralyzed in a diving accident and discovers how to reinvent her life. And finally, I’ve begun a novel where the protagonist is a woman who uses a wheelchair and outsmarts her kidnappers.
Q: Anything else we should know?
A: Not so much what you should know, but things to remember: Take care of each other and the planet, hug a tree, and don’t park—even a millimeter—on the hatched-out lines next to accessible parking. You’ll block me from getting in and out of my ramp van. Then how will I, or others like me, be able to engage in this amazing world?
Readers can contact me through my website, www.MaryKeatingPoet.com.
--Interview with Deborah Kalb




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