I’ve been busy with work stuff lately so just a quick update.
I had another rejection from The Poetry Review (but a nice note from Maurice Riordan) and I’m still awaiting news on half a dozen magazines I have poems out to. After umming and ahhing about submitting my short pamphlet to Templar Iota Shots I finally decided it was good enough to go.
The thing about submitting to Templar is that it doesn’t have different judges each time (unlike, say, the Poetry Business Pamphlet competition.) This means that if Templar editor Alex McMillen doesn’t like one’s style, he possibly never will. Some of the poems in the collection I submitted are the same or new versions of ones which I included in my submission last year. Let’s hope they’re not memorable or horrible enough to hinder my second go at it.
On the positive side, I can’t complain about my poetry autumn, having a poem appear in the current Rialto, winning the Stanza comp and being invited to read at Keats House – which is on Wednesday 26th November by the way – I’m REALLY hoping there’ll be some familiar, friendly faces in the audience – it’s the Poetry Society AGM and I’ll be reading alongside Daljit Nagra and Suzannah Fitzpatrick. Must start practising.
I’ve enjoyed reading the accounts of Aldeburgh Poetry Festival, here’s how Sarah Salway captured it, and of course Anthony Wilson wrote several insightful posts as blogger in residence. Next year I’ll be there with poet friends Clare and Charlotte – the beach house is already booked. So looking forward to that!
Meanwhile it’s all kicking off with ‘Blogging for Writers’ – I’m in the process of organising a Blog Tour which is shaping up nicely, then there’s the blog to update, blog posts to write… I even have a guest blog post booked in for an excellent US site next April, which is when the next blogging book is due to launch, and readings for that are being discussed already, so I could be in for a busy Spring.
October is my favourite month, partly because it’s the start of the run-up to Christmas with all sorts of musical things to come, before then of course Bonfire Night in Lewes – always an annual high point. Plus I have a birthday, and it’s generally a time for a stock-take and a bit of ‘where am I in my life?’ internal Q & A. I’ll spare you the full depths of the navel-gazing, but here are some of the projects occupying me at the moment:
Writing/submissions etc – not much to report, I haven’t given much time to writing in recent weeks, sadly, but I’m not stressing about it. In anticipation of one or two rejections which I believe are due in the next month, I sent out a few poems last week – I’m trying Ambit again, although I swore not to – can’t get out of my head the idea that I have stuff that belongs there. As regards lost submissions (one of the issues that plagues me) – for those publications that still require postal submissions I’ve taken to enclosing a stamped addressed postcard which just says ‘poems safely received at XYZ magazine’ for the mag to post back to me – which seemed like a trouble-free way of acknowledging receipt. More publications are now using Submittable, which I really like, and I also don’t mind paying £1 to submit (eg to Iota). I’ve blogged before about this and the subsequent poll was split.
Last year I missed the deadline for the National Poetry Comp, so this year I’m determined to enter something at least. I’ve never done well in the big comps, but hey, who knows. As for the pamphlet competitions, I’m tempted to try Iota Shots again (deadline Nov 10th), as I’ve tightened up my short themed pamphlet and think it might now stand a chance. But I don’t think I’ll be trying the Poetry Business comp, because I’m not sure I’ve got 20 good-enough poems, and that’s not a competition I want to enter half-cocked. Maybe next year.
Other writing – yesterday I got my hands on a preview copy of ‘Blogging for Writers’ which was very exciting. It’s going to be available in shops in a few weeks’ time, and I’m planning a blog tour – yee haa! More about this on the website in due course. Then ‘The Golden Rules of Blogging (and How to Break Them)’ is due out in March 2015, and there’s already been interest from some prominent bookshops in staging readings / Q & A sessions. Double yee-haa!
Also, I have an article on blogging to write for Poetry News – if you’re reading this and thinking “Hmm… I remember Robin asking me some questions for this many months ago..” then you’re not wrong – it’s that very same piece, but there was no room for it in the last edition, so it’s going to be either in the Winter or the Spring issue. I have to write this TODAY.
Telltale Press – Peter and I have been given some hot tips for potential Telltale poets and we’re in the process of feeling our way in that direction. Slow steps but it’s happening – both Peter and I have a lot of stuff on at the moment but we’re determined not to lose the momentum of the launch events, which were such a lift.
Readings etc – this evening is the quarterly Needlewriters event here in Lewes, with readings from Sian Thomas and Liz Bahs (poetry) and Colin Bell (prose). I’ll be doing the introductions which will be fun, particularly as I know all three readers. Always a lovely local vibe, in a cafe just yards from my house – would be perfect if I could have a glass of wine but today being a Thursday it’s no alcohol. Boo!
Next month I’ll be reading at the Poetry Society AGM at the wonderful Keats House – which feels like a big deal! Rumour has it I’ll be one of the support acts to Daljit Nagra … I’m now over the initial excitement and into the slightly nervous period. But I won’t be stressing about WHAT to read until nearer the time (I hope).
Meanwhile I’ve already booked tickets for the T S Eliot prize readings in January – 10% off if you book before November 1st! I’ve really enjoyed it the last couple of years, big thanks to poet friends Charlotte and Julia for introducing me to this event.
A few plans for this blog – I’ve got two wonderful poets lined up to feature in the next couple of weeks, plus plans for a regular ‘regional focus’ – I’m going to be poking my nose into what’s happening down your way, and reporting back. Poets, there’s nowhere to hide!
I was asked yesterday ‘how’s the writing going?’ which is always an interesting one to answer. First you have to gauge if it’s a genuine enquiry, or a generic ‘how’s things?’ A non-writer friend probably doesn’t want to hear a long moan about rejections. But submissions, and in particular rejections, is one of the unavoidable and recurrent themes of a writer’s (certainly a poet’s) life.
For me, the problem starts with the word ‘submission’. It’s so, well, so passive. To submit is to rollover onto your back like a cat with its claws retracted, begging for attention. It just ain’t dignified.
There are thousands of articles and blog posts about dealing with literary rejections. And can we get enough of them? I don’t think so, judging by the social media indicators. I’m not the only one to be fascinated by how others deal with the rejection game. I’m just as fascinated to know how the rejectors deal with it too. There are two sides to it, but perhaps it’s easy to forget that when you’re the submissive party.
Here are six viewpoints on rejection that I’ve enjoyed. You have to read them to get the full stories, but I’m giving you a flavour.
“No Thank You” – On Rejection and Writing by Chuck Sambuchino in Writers’ Digest. “You can’t please everyone, and the moment you try, you cease to write anything interesting.” Chuck runs with the idea that all rejections are subjective, and you can rationalise them all you like but ultimately you just have to deal with it and not let it unsettle your writing.
Rejecting Rejection by E Kristin Anderson at The Writing Barn. Rejection slips are just part of the submissions game – there are no acceptances without rejections along the way. “You can’t win if you don’t play.”
Submission, Rejection, Acceptance, Reward by Roy Marshall. Paying attention to the detail of cover letters and appreciating the ‘good’ rejections can bring some comfort. “Once or twice I’ve felt less pleased by an offhand acceptance than by polite and careful rejection.”
Ten Levels of Rejection (and What to Do About Them) – Nathaniel Tower takes a close look at the exact wording of rejections and draws some biting conclusions. “Not all rejection is equal.” Great to see the ‘passive aggressive’ rejection (beloved by certain publications) finally unmasked! (Number 4)
And finally, Robert Peake gives some soothing advice in What Should You Learn from Rejection Letters? at ReadWritePoem. “The very fact of rejection is insufficient grounds to conclude your that poems are terrible, that you are a terrible poet, possibly a terrible person, and that giving up writing for good would be a service to humanity.” Oh we hope not, Bob, we hope not.
What is it about poets called Don? There’s Don Paterson for starters. Don. Paterson. And now Don Share. Maybe it’s the the power/mafia connotations (Don Corleone). Or the suggestion of raffishness (Don Juan). Or the hidden warning: not DO but DON’t.
So here’s the thing: picture sixteen or so poets perched in a circle, hothoused in a room of the Richard Jefferies Museum on the edge of Swindon. All eyes and ears are on the Editor of Poetry, Don Share, who’s been flown in from Chicago for the Swindon Festival of Poetry. No-one quite knows what to expect, but I for one am hoping not to have to do any work at all, other than listen and take the odd note. And that’s exactly what happened.
After the initial introductions, Don had a pretty good idea of just how much ambition and urgency was present in the room, and he set to answering our (mostly unspoken) questions. In the afternoon, there was some expectation that we’d all subject Don to one of our poems, for him to offer some pointers. We’d lost two participants (including one of the only 2 men) by then, but there still wasn’t time for everyone to have a go. But no-one really minded, especially as Don offered to email his comments to anyone who’d been left out.
I admired the way Don kept the energy going throughout the day when others might have wilted. Some of the funniest moments were clearly unscripted, such as the ten minute discussion about how he’d agonised over publishing a poem, the problem being the poet’s use of the word ‘slab’. And when he said with no hint of irony that he’d always wanted to visit Swindon (“it’s in the Domesday Book!”) Or pronouncing on the poetry greats: “I’ve no idea what they were setting out to do, what was going through their minds – maybe they were just geniuses and we’re all screwed!” And later on “The Waste Land is just crazy-ass!”
Of course there was also a huge amount of fascinating stuff…although you ‘had to be there’, here are my notes which I hope give a flavour of it. Huge thanks to Don for his generous sharing (no pun intended).
On the editor’s role
There are good editors who are not poets. There are good poets who are not great editors. Don sees them as 2 distinct roles. He reads a LOT of poetry – the magazine gets 120,000 submissions a year, for starters, and all are read by Don and Consulting Editor Christina Pugh.
Editors must be ‘pitiless and undeceived’
Editors can’t be publishing only poets with an established reputation – if that were case then (for example) Poetry wouldn’t have published T S Eliot. (As it was, the publication of ‘Prufrock’ in 1915 resulted in years of hatemail.) He still gets hatemail from people about stuff that’s published. “If we go down the route of only publishing what everyone thinks poetry is/should be, then we’re lost.”
Don doesn’t necessarily like most of the poems he publishes. It’s not about liking – “the most powerful poems are infuriating”. Christina Pugh’s judgement on the majority of ‘perfectly competent’ poems is “there’s nothing at stake here.”
On comparing oneself to the great poets
It’s absolutely correct to say ‘I’m not Ted Hughes’ or ‘I’m no Emily Dickinson’ – because they were themselves, and so must any poet be. “you can’t imagine Emily Dickinson in a workshop.”
Don read ALL the back issues of Poetry and he says that 94% of the poetry published in it over the hundred years or so is not good (ie it hasn’t stood the test of time).
The key for ‘competent poets’ – ie those of us getting published, writing perfectly OK poems, making a bit of a poetry name for ourselves – is to not just aim for mere competence. Don remembered when Derek Walcott became his mentor, looked over one of his poems and said ‘This is very good, well done … you could write these kinds of poems all your life… but is it your life’s work?”
Don’s advice – list ten poems that for you are absolute favourites, poems you aspire to, and ask yourself “are these competent poems? What makes them more than that?”
What can the poor aspiring poet do??
Eliminate the ‘obvious stupidities’:
Be honest – ie true to what you know, where you’re from, what you’ve lived. (This wasn’t discussed exactly but it made me think that perhaps the ‘poetic’ elements that can creep into a poem are to do with adopting a register that’s foreign to us in everyday speech. There was some discussion afterwards about how playing up to one’s ‘roots’ was a big trend in poetry at the moment – leaving those of us with very little in the way of distinguishing features – ethnic, regional, class etc – feeling a bit disadvantaged!)
Be specific. Make the reader live it/see it/ feel it like you do. “As soon as I see the word ‘bird’ in a poem, I’m done.” What kind of bird? “If it’s not coming from something you know, it’s scenic … it’s got to come from a place of honesty. When an American reads Ted Hughes, they see what he sees, it’s as if they were where he was – it’s not about a kind of realism, it’s about being able to inject a reader with an image.”
Another problem is that students of poetry are shown (or study) the great poems, and if that’s all they read (rather than reading broadly from a poet’s body of work) – that is a problem. If you only read the exemplars then you don’t have a feel for how the poet got where they did. Even the great poets wrote some crappy poems, went through stages when they couldn’t or didn’t write great poetry. “The work that your worst poems do has to be the work that your best poems do” … “make something of what you’re bad at” – (I’m still pondering what this means exactly).
“The things you worry about least in your poem are the things that can set the poem apart, if you pay attention to them.”
“If you start off knowing what you’re trying to say then the poem becomes predictable.”
“Readers are like editors – they catch you out.”
Tips/ comments from the workshopping session
Form – how a poem’s laid out on the page – is the first thing the reader/editor notices. Have a reason for the choosing the form you’ve chosen. Things like stepped lines, right aligned, spaces, one word on a line – what’s the reasoning? If you were to read it out loud, is the form obvious to the reader, and if not, why not put it into a form that matches how you read it? The rhythm might shape the poem. Play around with form. Try different things.
The title is the next biggest thing – if it says too much then the poem isn’t a surprise.
Pay attention to consistency of tone/language / register
Some of the lines of your poem may be scaffolding – it serves a purpose while the poem is evolving, but can be taken out at the end (I liked this a lot!)
Similarly, you can often edit out the first few lines – they’re often just like the vamping that musicians do before they start the actual piece of music
Using the pronouns ‘she’ or ‘he’ – why not ‘I’? It’s a distancing thing so maybe there’s a psychological purpose for it? Don’s advice is that readers prefer not to be put at a distance, want to feel the speaker is talking directly – more powerful.
Why not give people names? Character come to life when they’re given a name – readers care more if it feels like direct speech not just a story told by someone else. Don gives the example of Ted Hughes’ Letters – it’s the fact that it’s Ted & Sylvia that we’re reading that makes it so fascinating, not “just another guy in a crappy relationship.” If a poem is about a couple, their relationship, why not tell us their names?
Details, specifics. They can make a poem more memorable, different, unique even. eg ‘Adlestrop’. Think of Betjeman with all the proper names he uses. Larkin.
If you allude to something, the observation has to be good enough to stand alone, in case the reader doesn’t get the allusion
Be careful with words like ‘gush’ and ‘spume’ as they can overpower others. (Perhaps this should be the basis of a list – ‘words that overpower’?)
Somebody or something must be changed in the course of a poem – either in the poem itself or in the reader or both. There’s a shift – what is it?
I have some back issues of Poetry from when I took advantage of a freebie offer I think, and it’s a great magazine – I’m now motivated to subscribe properly, as one of my ‘rolling subscription’ system whereby I try to get around to subscribing to different magazines for at least a year at a time. The Poetry Foundation website is a fantastic free resource in itself, and every month there’s a Poetry Magazine Podcast that’s definitely worth a listen.
Someone posted recently on Twitter that poetry seemed to be “mostly about reading, writing and waiting”. I know I’ve certainly had that kind of year up until a few weeks ago. I’d have to wait to do one of my ‘stock takes’ to see if I’ve been sending out less work this year than last, it’s felt a bit like the doldrums but in reality it may just be that I’ve had more rejections this year than before. I love autumn, and right now I’m feeling busy and fulfilled with various projects on the go, so maybe there’s a little momentum building.
The first half of the year was mostly about writing (non fiction) books, the first of which is scheduled for release in November. This Monday (29th) I’m giving a talk / leading a discussion for Hastings & St Leonards Writers’ Hub about social media and blogging, as a prelim to my one-day courses for New Writing South – the first of which is coming up in October. I also have a piece to write for Poetry News, on the subject of poets blogging.
I’m also mentoring a couple of writers at the moment on their blogging, social web presence and the rest. It’s great fun to help others get to grips with it all in a way that works for them.
Next Wednesday sees the public launch of Telltale Press, the new poets’ collective I’ve started with Peter Kenny and under the expert editorial guidance of Catherine Smith. We’ve already had the two private launches in Lewes and Hove, both of which were lovely, warm events. We all sold loads of copies of our pamphlets/books and received positive comments about Telltale. The list of jobs to do once the launch is over is long – looking forward to it though. It feels like such an empowering, carpe diem sort of thing to be doing. Our guest readers next Wednesday are Anja Konig (new pamphlet out with Flipped Eye) and Rishi Dastidar (recently appointed assistant editor at The Rialto.) Do come along if you can, details are here.
On the poetry writing front, I’ve just started an online course at the Poetry School which is proving to be excellent for developing my critiquing skills, having written detailed notes on something like 12 students’ poems so far, and we’re only on the first of 5 sessions. My own first poem has only had comments from three people, so I’m hoping that improves and I start to get some useful feedback in return. There are some interesting poets on the course so I’ll enjoy seeing how all of our writing develops.
Meanwhile I’ve got some lovely things to look forward to: forthcoming poems in The Rialto and South, a weekend with poet friends, listening to, reading and workshopping poetry at Swindon Festival of Poetry, readings of my own at the Needlewriters here in Lewes next January, plus a high-profile reading in the autumn (to be confirmed). And with a bit of luck, the launch of Blogging for Writers, for which I’m hoping to organise a blog tour. Hurrah!
I’ve been enjoying my bagload of books from the Poetry Book Fair, by the way, and will be sharing some of that here in coming weeks.
Oh and I almost forgot – thank you so much for all the encouragement after my post about having to sing a solo and getting a bit stressed. The concert went wonderfully, I did my little ‘mouse’ spot and sang out – what the hell! – I thought of the words I was singing, from Christopher Smart’s fantastical Jubilate Agno, and felt privileged to have the opportunity. I think I was also inspired by a recent visit to Benjamin Britten’s Aldeburgh and learning more about him. He was a great champion of amateur music makers and I hope I did him proud. And as Jean Tubridy said, “This is what living is about!”
I love the idea of giving birth to an arts/literary magazine. I dream about it and go through possible plans for it, in the same way some people do kitchens, or dream homes.
Whenever I come across some quirky ‘zine I keep a copy, for future reference, in case there any ideas I can borrow from it. Every aspect is fascinating – size, paper weight/finish, typefaces, layout, colours, how many printed, distribution channels, who’s behind it, contributors, whether there are ads or sponsors and if so, who they are. And that’s before I even get to the actual content. I don’t have any system for gathering my research material other than a box file, and I tend to lose things so not everything makes it into the box file.
Some examples stand out, such as the very high spec (yet with an independent vibe) neighbourhood literary/arts magazine I came across when staying in Clerkenwell a few years back. Can I lay my hands on it now? No. And when I google it all I find is a somewhat shiny corporate version produced by a media company which just wasn’t it. Maybe the original idea got taken over.
Then there was the surprise of receiving a copy of Fuselit, with not one but two micro-magazines falling out the envelope together with three little fridge magnets and a mini-CD. Extraordinary attention to detail and surely many man- or woman-hours in the making. It was like a one-off.
More recently I was attracted to Belgium-based Miel Books’ 1110/7 micro-journal – I think I followed a link to the website and fell for the design – and I had it by my bedside for some time, re-reading its contents, mostly what I would call avant garde – certainly no villanelles or poems about dementia. I quite like a mixed diet, whether or not I respond to all the individual poems themselves.
And today (what prompted this post I guess) the first edition of ‘The High Flight’ arrived. It’s a new ‘100% independent fanzine’ being distributed around Edinburgh and Glasgow mainly. I’m probably on the outer edges of their market (in all senses!) – I think I must have made a donation via Kickstarter, anyway my name is listed as a benefactor, which makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, and pleased to be supporting a bit of genuine grass-roots, lets-get-it-out-there, take-it-or-leave-it grunge-lit post-expressionism. I enjoyed it – some short pithy poems, one or two colourful and/or random graphics, an essay on why we need to start getting angry again, an amusing tale of pill-taking and a smattering of what my mum would call language – and applaud those who’ve got it off the ground.
I’ve too many other projects at the moment to think about launching a lit-zine, but one of these days…!
Waiting to hear the results of submissions can be like waiting for the interest rate to change – something could happen today, next month or not for a year or so. You know how I like to moan a bit about it (ahem!)…but come on, I do seem to have had a fair amount of bad luck (several lost submissions, poems getting rejected and accepted at the same time, notifications going astray, competition admins not changing the status on Submittable so you’ve no idea if your work has been read, etc etc).
Every acceptance feels like an impossibly stiff window opening an inch further. Rather like my frozen shoulder which six months ago laid me stupidly low, convinced I was surely entering Old Age, and now, little by little, it’s almost back to normal (no handstands as yet, though. No idea why I say that, because I haven’t done a handstand in at least 15 years.) Anyway, what I’m leading up to is that yesterday I had a note from Fiona at The Rialto to say they’d like one of poems for the next issue, which is always wonderful news. It also means the three poems they rejected are now free for me to send elsewhere. That’s a win-win I believe!
I went in for two or three competitions this year and the results of those are all due in the next few weeks, which again means even if I haven’t had any luck there at least I’ll have back a few poems that have been tied up for months. Look on the bright side no matter what!
As part of my autumn poetry reactivation plan (sounds good, eh?) I’ve signed up for an online course from the Poetry’s School with Karen McCarthy Woolf. It’s a feedback course for the ‘general improvement of left-for-dead poems in need of resuscitation’. This premise really appealed to me – having quite a few poems languishing at the moment, some of which I feel at the end of my editorial tether (with). (Apologies for the clumsy construction, but since I’m off duty while writing this I feel able to mush over any dodgy grammar or whatever. It’s the equivalent of pulling on a onesie and eating a takeaway while watching TV. I’m at home. Off duty.)
Soooo … time to dust off some old pomes. While we’re on the subject, I should mention that I was pleased to find out that South have taken two poems of mine for their autumn issue, just when I’d thought they wouldn’t find a home. I did think I wasn’t going to submit to South again, but when it came to it I just felt those poems belonged there, so I’m glad the selectors felt the same. It’s an unusual setup there – no one editor, but a committee, of which (as far as I can tell) two or three people act as selectors for each issue. Although submissions are anonymous, there’s a distinctive consistency about the poems chosen. For example, my Lewes cohort Jeremy Page manages to have something in every single issue – what gives, JP?? – and other names too are ‘regulars’. The magazine doesn’t include poet biogs (which is a shame) but it does have a launch event for each issue (which is good).
Anyway, I digress – my question to you is, when do you leave a poem for dead? Is it ever actually ‘dead’, or just sleeping gently in a drawer until you bring it out for another airing? Do you have any good success stories about poems you resurrected after a long period of time? I’d love to hear them.
In the interests of giving the magazine an airing in different parts of the country, The Interpreter’s House editor Martin Malone came down to the south coast yesterday to launch issue number 56.
It was a very different event to the last one. Firstly, the Redroaster Coffee House is less intimate than the Albion Beatnik Bookstore in Oxford. The event was also by suggestion of Pighog Press, who run their regular events there. As a result, the evening felt a little bit shoe-horned into the Pighog format, with their usual entrance prices and a large number of open mic readers. With an hour of open-mic to fit in, we didn’t get enough of Martin Malone’s lovely compering skills, there was less time for the kind of relaxed banter we had at the Oxford event, and I didn’t come away with a strong feeling about The Interpreter’s House as a magazine. And as usual it went over time, which is tricky for the out-of-towners with trains and buses to catch.
All of this is a shame, as many of the contributors had come a long way to read – Robert Harper from Shrewsbury, for example. Robert is the Stanza rep in his area and also editor of Bare Fiction, a new magazine of poetry and prose. There were lots of friends in the audience and there were some very enjoyable readings. I always like to hear poet friend Charlotte Gann (LOVE her poem ‘Next Door’ in the magazine) – she doesn’t do many readings so catch her when you can. It was also great to meet (and hear read) Paul McGrane and Richard Skinner, both of whom I’ve had a fairly long internet acquaintance with but never actually met. Incidentally, although several of the open mic readers were excellent, a few could have done with reading these tips from Paul on open mic readings!)
It was brilliant to have The Interpreter’s House come here for a local launch and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves so maybe I’m a lone grump in the wilderness (go on, you can tell me!), but I do think the star of any magazine launch ideally needs to be the magazine and its featured contributors. After the Oxford launch, I had a much better idea about the ethos, history and personality of The Interpreter’s House, and was moved to subscribe. I hope last night’s attendees felt that way, because that would be a real result.
It rained. Part of the building had fallen off. The bar was heaving with Carphone Warehouse partygoers. But The Rialto launch last night was a small haven of poetry peace amidst the chaos.
Although I got there indecently early (I had the silly idea that it was starting at 6.30) Fiona Moore made me very welcome and I was soon joined by Sarah Rudston, Nancy Campbell and Davina (D A) Prince, all contributors to this issue. There was plenty of chat about publishing, Stanzas, workshopping and the like. Michael Mackmin arrived with a huge bag of magazines and pamphlets. We had readings from five poets including Fleur Adcock and Stephen Watts, and although I had to leave soon after the readings and speeches to get a 9pm train, the room was still full and animated.
Jennifer Wong & Michael Mackmin
I found it a really nice and non-intimidating event. As well as a launch (the first time The Rialto has had one in London) it was also a celebration of the Assistant Editor programme as Abigail Parry and Fiona Moore ended their ‘apprenticeship’ which they had clearly enjoyed. I was also thrilled to finally introduce myself to Michael Mackmin after my last aborted attempt!
I’ve talked before with poet friends about how The Rialto just seems to have a particular appeal in a way that other magazines, however brilliant, don’t quite have. Is it the production values – the size, spaciousness, paper, typefaces, beautiful covers? Is it the personable and down to earth editorials? The submissions guidelines that manage to be firm without being school-masterish or snitty? The twenty-pound note that falls from the envelope when you’ve had a poem accepted for publication? The poetry itself? What we usually agree on is that it’s Michael Mackmin’s personality and particular style that seem to be the key. The Assistant Editor programme has been interesting. I was slightly disappointed with issue 79, I can’t say for sure why but it felt like the range of poetry featured had narrowed. What I’ve read so far of issue 80 I’ve really enjoyed. Fresh eyes and fresh ideas are surely a good thing for any long-running project, but as long as Michael is still around it’s unlikely The Rialto will undergo any major overhaul. And would anyone want that anyway?
I picked up a copy of Paul Muldoon’s Horse Latitudes. Paul read at the Charleston Festival a couple of weeks ago and I regret not seeing him. He’s a poet I’ve not read so this was my ‘canon’ purchase. Then I spotted Josh Ekroy’s new collection, Ways to Build a Roadblock. His is a name I know well from magazines, so I was intrigued enough to buy a copy, much to the pleasure of the chap on the till. Later on at The Rialto event I was impressed by Michael Mackmin’s talking up of ‘A bad influence girl’, Janet Rogerson’s pamphlet, so that was my third purchase. So lots more lovely reading.
A small section of the poetry shelves at the London Review Bookshop – with Jenny Lewis’s Taking Mesopotamia getting pride of place
Submissions: ‘Send us some poems!’ said Fiona Moore as I left. When I told her I already had some out to The Rialto, sent in February, she looked puzzled. ‘You should have heard by now.’ Oh no – the words I dread – alarm bells ring, has it happened again, did my precious submission not arrive? Am I the only one this happens to on a regular basis? Lost poems, poems accepted for a magazine but then left out, poems accepted then same poems rejected by the same magazine… my submissions seem to be dogged by problems. Almost wishing for a short, sharp rejection instead of facing another nails-down-the-blackboard ‘black hole’ scenario. We’ll see.
Oh and I almost forgot – thank you so much for all the encouragement after my post about having to sing a solo and getting a bit stressed. The concert went wonderfully, I did my little ‘mouse’ spot and sang out – what the hell! – I thought of the words I was singing, from Christopher Smart’s fantastical Jubilate Agno, and felt privileged to have the opportunity. I think I was also inspired by a recent visit to Benjamin Britten’s Aldeburgh and learning more about him. He was a great champion of amateur music makers and I hope I did him proud. And as 
