Month: September 2015

On not letting the competitive instinct crush creativity | poetry submissions stats

OK here goes.

I know some people will wonder why on earth I admit to all this in public. The reason is this: I’m sure I’m not the only person who gets downhearted about rejections, or who has self-doubts about my abilities as a poet. It’s fine not to show it if you do, and some people genuinely have no self-doubts. But I’ve also lived long enough in the belly of social media to know what a toxic and stressful environment it can be when you’re feeling vulnerable. So I think it can help to know you’re not alone.

It’s also very easy to have a skewed view of how things are going. For example, my feeling is I’ve had a poor year as regards getting stuff published. Every magazine I pick up I see a poem by Poet X or Poet Y, or I read the latest edition of Exceptional Poetry Magazine, and I think WTF – where’s my stuff?? I start to wonder what happened to the optimism and self confidence I had a couple of years ago. Or even the ability.

BUT… it really helps to do the numbers. Here’s what I found out when I looked at the stats from the last 12 months:

  • 50 poems sent out in 74 submissions (some poems went out, got rejected and went out again)
  • 48 rejections by magazines
  • 9 failed competition entries
  • 5 poems no response from magazine
  • 4 poems lost by magazine
  • 1 poem withdrawn because I had changed it a lot in the time I was waiting for a reply
  • 5 poems accepted by magazines
  • 1 poem placed 2nd
  • 1 poem longlisted

plus a pamphlet shortlisted.
I have only included competitive submissions in the above, for example I’ve not included anthologies or anything submitted by invitation. I’ve also not included poems currently out and awaiting reply (16 poems in 4 submissions).

Now what this says is that 10% of poems submitted  to mags were accepted for publication (5/50), 18% of poems sent to competitions achieved some kind of success (2/11), 14% of poems submitted to magazines were either lost, or presumed lost (no response in a year and no reply to enquiries) – 9/63.

I had a very good publication record in my first year of getting material placed (2011-2012), and in a way that’s the problem – I haven’t managed to keep that up. But actually, a 10% success rate seems fair. It doesn’t stop me feeling I’ve had a bad year and Must Do Better. That’s really just the competitive instinct in me.

What I find is that by looking at the numbers I can separate out competitive instinct from the creative instinct, and not let the former crush the latter. 

Quality of work is so hard to gauge, and it’s so clearly not the only factor when it comes to publication – yet it’s the first thing we question when work is rejected – ‘maybe my poems are actually rubbish!’ It’s a blow to the confidence. But if you trust a bit more in the stats, it can help put everything in perspective. Focus on writing MORE and writing BETTER – yes – but keep accurate records and once a year or so do a stocktake. I find it’s really worth it.

What do you think? Stupid to get bogged down in numbers? Helpful for painting a clearer picture? Stop crunching numbers and read more Bishop?

Poetry Book Fair and other shenanigans

Yes, it’s the obligatory ‘look what I bought at the Poetry Book Fair‘ photo – I love looking at other people’s ‘hauls’ to see what I missed. There was so much choice it was overwhelming.

My strategy was to start calmly – on my first sweep I just picked up a couple of things at full price, including Jack Underwood’s Happiness and Holly Hopkins’ pamphlet Soon Every House Will Have One from which I’d heard her reading in the morning. Later in the day I then did a kind of serendipity follow-up, picking interesting-looking publications up at random and enjoying some excellent bargains. Carcanet started selling everything for a fiver, and even Telltale got in on the act by offering a catchy “four for the price of two and a half”.

Each year I’m seeing more and more of my poet friends there, or maybe it’s just that I’m getting to know more poets. There’s a definite buzz about it. Props to Chrissy Williams and Joey Connolly for all their hard work in organising.

I had to leave early to make it back for a Lewes Singers concert and it was a delight to be able to sit and listen for a change. And so ended a crazy weekend that started with Waitrose having no record of the glasses we’d booked for the concert, and finished with us deciding to pull out of the flat we were on the verge of buying. The perfect place is out there. But for now, we’re very happy in our temporary home. I just can’t seem to locate anything and the spare room is one huge mess of boxes (some half-unpacked) and sundry loose items from golf clubs to something that looks like a big heavy-duty sleeping bag. It’s actually a cover for the harpsichord. Oh yes, we found space for that.

Amongst the fog of dealing with solicitors, estate agents, utilities, plumbers etc, finding my way around a strange town and forever looking for the stapler, one thing I’m determined to make time for is the Reading List. Most of our books will have to stay in boxes (rental places don’t seem to have things like fitted bookshelves) but I’ve ‘saved’ a few poetry books. Plus, in the move, I came across a couple of long lost pamphlets that had disappeared down the back of the bed. Hurrah! Add to that my book fair new purchases and that should keep me going for a while.

PS oops I almost forgot – look what I picked up, Elly!

poem by Elly Nobbs

A short time out

Yes I know I’ve gone a bit quiet lately, and that’s because we are finally moving house. Oh and the small matter of a concert in a week’s time, on the same day as the Free Verse Poetry Book Fair, so my creative juices have been sucked dry on making posters and postcards, a 12 page programme, origami birds, sourcing 8 metres of black cotton fabric on eBay (don’t ask) while dealing with packing, booking parking suspensions for our movers, chasing up contracts and the like. There are lists of instructions to helpers and more lists for myself. And two mattresses still to drag to the dump on Sunday, after an all day rehearsal and a visit to Eastbourne Book Festival. And more packing.

BUT in about 10 days’ time service will resume as normal! And in the meantime I hope to see as many real and virtual poetry friends as possible at the Poetry Book Fair next weekend – please come and say hello at the Telltale table. We’re sharing space with the lovely Frogmore Press.

PS In case you were wondering about the origami birds:

Faire is the Heaven - Lewes Singers - Tourist Info Centre window

The Reading List, week 6: Duhig, Kenny, Murray, Lehane

This post is the latest update to my ‘Reading List’ project begun in July 2015.

The Lammas Hireling, Ian Duhig (Picador, 2003)

From the opening poem ‘Blood’, an extended description of a self-styled skinhead-type hardman who turns out to be a fifteen-year-old who faints at the sight of a vaccination needle ‘in front of a whole queue of third years’, you get the feeling this collection is going to be a treat. Ian Duhig has such a range I just can’t find the right box to put him in.

A rage against a corporation that diverts ‘twenty million tons of river’ is presented as a protest song (‘Water, Light’) – ‘Some people couldn’t run a bath / And these were running mining’. The poet seems to have a scholarly familiarity with the classics, with ancient myth & folk tales, with modern history … yet he’s also a politically-engaged ‘man of the people’ who seems able to combine extraordinary wit and subtlety of language with (how shall I put it?) a certain earthy bluntness. There are punchlines aplenty (eg ‘The Vision of the Virgin’, ‘Chinese Sonnets’) and a hilarious ekphrastic poem – ‘The dancing couple. He’s as smug as buttered parsnips / Despite entertaining scarlatina and an eerie crotch.’ (‘Rustics Dancing Outside an Inn’). A found poem ‘Coble Rig Veda’ celebrates a rich nautical vocabulary probably indecipherable to your average present-day reader. The wonderful title poem won the National Poetry Competition in 2001. It has a weirdly compelling quality – a poem I want to keep going back to, and every time there’s more to be squeezed from it. Here’s a link to Ian reading the poem, and some background to it.

Favourite poem: ‘Ken’s Videos, Seahouses’. (I admit I wrote a little homage poem ‘after’ this, which appeared in The Interpreter’s House. Nowhere near as clever as the original, sadly. I can try though.)

The Boy Who Fell Upwards, Peter Kenny (anthologyofguernsey.com, 2010)

This collection of poems is part of a ‘A Guernsey Double’, together with ‘The Man Who Landed’ by Richard Fleming. It was published with funding from Guernsey Arts Commission, as an ‘explore Guernsey’ project – there’s even a map in the centre pages pointing out the various places referred to in the poems.

I confess I’ve only read Peter’s half of the book this week, saving Richard’s for another time. (You have to turn the book over and start from the other side to do that, so it does feel like a separate piece.)

My ‘Reading List’ strategy  is to read straight through the poems in a collection, not to re-read or overthink individual poems. This isn’t always easy, especially if there are distractions and you get to the end of a piece and have the sensation you weren’t attending properly. But it leaves an impression, a kind of prevailing feeling. After reading ‘The Boy Who Fell Upwards’ the feeling I had was melancholy. That’s not to say sadness exactly, but there are mysteries here – unresolved (hi)stories, both personal and of the place, and it’s sometimes the sense of not knowing that fuels the tension. From the start we learn ‘I’m torn up by currents …/ hollow-boned orphan, I shriek like a gull in the gale.’ (‘The Boy Who Fell Upwards’).

The narrator (as small child, as teenager, as adult) is surrounded by characters unnamed but defined by their family roles – Gran’mere (the first we meet, and the most present through the poems), Father, Grandfather, a dead brother, a ‘thought daughter’. They are all woven into a landscape both hostile and beautiful – ‘Cliff and foam murmur the murmur / of a dreaming widow, reaching / across a cold sheet / to a memory.’ (‘Dusk at Icart Point’) and later,’Raucous in the little lanes / a drunken sea-wind / blew me here / to listen and belong again…’ (‘A return’). But this is no memoir. And it’s certainly not a tourist information brochure. Sure, we get ‘I glimpsed a summer Guernsey / cuddled by the setting sun’ (‘A Glasshouse’) but a Nazi bunker has the narrator imagining a wartime victim ‘…your belly flop / into the concrete slop / of these foundations.’

There’s a deep sense of love for the place, and the sadness of things fragmenting, uprooting, breaking and toppling – ‘all these muddled memories / word by word from broken things.’ (‘The Little Chapel’) which I found complex and moving. Favourite poem: ‘Thought Daughter.’

Of earth, water, air and fire – animal poems – Nicholas Murray  Melos 2013).

This is a fairly jaunty celebration of animals and birds, alive and (about to be) dead, real and mythical. Sometimes the beast itself takes centre stage, but just as often the poet focuses on a particular feature or association, as with ‘Aardvark’ – ‘… unaware of its symbolic life / as tradesman’s Number One’.

Lambs are ‘teenaged gangs’, a Pheasant is a ‘gaudy racer’. Most of the creatures are addressed directly as ‘you’, permitting the poet to express his own feelings or observations. I enjoyed the originality of ‘Pelican’ – ‘the guy who swaggers, / who Mick Jaggers.’ Less convincing was the ‘Swan’ – ‘Conscious of magnificence, that stately glide / asserts possession of the tree-screened pool.’

Unfortunately I’m unable to read any poem about a Kingfisher without recalling the wonderful Chris McCabe poem of that title which appeared in The Rialto and in the ‘Best of British Poetry 2011’ anthology. (Hear Chris read the poem here.) And ‘Crow’ will always be a tricky one.

The collection was good fun and the quirky juxtapositions of creatures and unexpected touches made me smile. Favourite poem: ‘Pelican.’

Hunters – Dorothy Lehane (Annexe Press 2013)

This is such a slim volume I thought I’d slip it in this week … just seven poems, and on a first read through I did pick up on some references to stars/constellations/space but wasn’t entirely sure if I’d missed something crucial.
‘Keyhole (NGC1999)’ ‘isn’t exactly grown yet / barely sagacious’ made more sense when I had looked it up (apparently it’s a ‘mysterious hole in space’). I don’t really like doing ‘research’ in order to get something from a poem, but in the case of this pamphlet it did help.

In ‘Crab Nebula’ there are references to the Bible, a line from Macbeth and possibly a reference to some incident in Chinese history and/or fable. There are puzzling and/or opaque moments throughout, but nevertheless the poems zing with original ideas and exhilarating language. ‘Deep freeze mother, / primordial grime, / don’t speak now hypoglycaemics.’ (Goldilocks Zone’) ‘sweep this realm, / hypnotised by jewels, regal cat’s eye / puffing out smoke rings like knotted gas,’ (‘Hunters’).
Favourite poem: ‘AE Aurigae’.

Poetry Book Fair excitement, plus my poetry gets a leg up

September so often seems like the shortest month – why is that? At the moment it’s also looking like the craziest this year. We have to move out of our house by 23rd, which is little more than a couple of weeks away. And no, we haven’t started packing yet, because we don’t have any boxes because we haven’t confirmed the movers because we don’t actually know where we’re moving to yet – UGH. There are a lot of ‘ifs’. But ‘if’ they all work out then it’s all going to be fine. I’m very grateful for your thoughts and good wishes. Thank you.

On the poetry front, I’ve been reading (as you know) but haven’t been doing much writing. Nevertheless I’ve been blessed with a number of rejections recently, which has freed up quite a few poems for submitting elsewhere! How’s that for positivism! (Oh no, that’s not the word is it?  but you get my meaning).

Good news: those lovely peeps at New Writing South have offered me a place on their ‘NWS10’ scheme, which means I’m going to benefit from all kinds of fantastic advice and support for my writing over the next year or so. For starters, I’ll be joining John McCullough’s fortnightly ‘Advanced Poetry’ course from next  month, which I’ve heard so many good things about. Then there’s a project I’m planning with a photographer friend which will be based in Eastbourne, my new home town. Having the support of NWS means I’ll be able to tap into their expertise and credibility which gives me much confidence about getting the project off the ground. I’m feeling really enthused about this – and I feel it also gives me ‘permission’ to write more, improve and try to grow as a poet.

Telltale Poets are getting excited about our first appearance at the Poetry Book Fair in London on 26th September, sharing a table with the delightful Frogmore Press and helping to represent the Lewes Massive. Never mind that I am DOUBLE BOOKED that day with my choir as I am planning to hologram myself and nobody will be any the wiser. Plus of course, both Telltale Press and Lewes Singers are Not All About Me! Anyway at the Book Fair we’ll be launching our latest pamphlet, The Fire Station by Sarah Barnsley… I can’t show you the cover yet because it’s top secret but the whole pamphlet is awesome or killin it as I’m told they say.

So if you’re coming to the Book Fair remember to drop by, say hello, pick up some delectable freebie stuff and spend a shedload of money on our pamphlets to help feed the poets. Thanks so much!