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.
A quick update before I make my way to Swindon Festival of Poetry via lunch in Newbury with my sister-in-law. The Telltale Press public launch on Wednesday evening at the Poetry Cafe was a great success – the audience was mostly friends and friends of friends of myself and Peter Kenny, so we felt right at home. And the peeps at the Poetry Cafe are so helpful and unfussy. We’ll definitely be back in the New Year. Plans are afoot!
Rishi Dastidar reading at our launch on Wednesday
Our guest readers on Wednesday were Anja Konig, all the way from Switzerland with her new pamphlet ‘Advice for an Only Child’ (Flipped Eye) hot off the press, and Rishi Dastidar, who’s part of the Complete Works II programme, launching on Monday evening at the South Bank.
Then yesterday was National Poetry Day, with an avalanche of stuff on social media and a shedload of events, none of which I actually got to, but that’s mainly because of tiredness and in anticipation of a full-on poetry fest this weekend. I don’t know if it’s just my perception, but it feels as if NPD gets more mainstream coverage than it used to. Probably just my skewed viewpoint.
Somewhere in amongst all the excitement about Forward Prize winners, Next Gen Poets, NPD readings etc was the little announcement about the Stanza Poetry Competition, which I somehow managed to, er, win. (As a reward I get to read at the AGM of the Poetry Society at Keats’ House in November. I am absurdly excited about this.) It was lovely to receive emails and messages of congratulations from fellow poets. Thank you so much. The winning poems and judges comments are here.
And now – I must pack and get myself off to sunny Swindon, where Hilda Sheehan has been Facebook updating with her particular brand of exhilarated craziness – porcelain dogs, men with megaphones, lunch poetry and all kinds of shenanigans appear to be happening. What the hell’s going on down there, Hilda? I’m coming to find out …
Room awaiting transformation into launch venue for Telltale Press. Note the bars on windows so poets can’t escape.
Yikes, the poetry world can be dangerous place, can’t it? Who’d be one of those poor ‘Next Generation Poets‘? Blimey. I wonder if people forget sometimes that letting rip on Facebook is less like having a bitch down the pub, and more like broadcasting all your inner demons on one of those sheets that get strung out across the motorway with “Happy 40th Birthday BillyBob” writ large.
Anyway – I have just too much else to worry about, thankfully, to get steamed up about Other People’s Success or the heated debates thereon. Even a rejection from Antiphon was filed promptly and with hardly a harrumph. Yes folks, at the risk of going on about it yet again, the Telltale Press launch ‘roadshow’ starts this week! We’re in Lewes on Wednesday, then Brighton & Hove the following Wednesday, then the Poetry Cafe in London on October 1st, which is the public launch. (The first two events are the equivalent of the ‘private view’ – aka two chances to get it right before we take on the world – ha ha!) No need to book in to the last one in London, please just come along, would be lovely to see/meet some Poetgal mates.
We’ve got the de rigueur roller banner, the Waitrose prosecco (on offer – yay!), the hired glasses and the press-ganged helpers.. .we’ve got the lovely poets coming to read (Catherine Smith, John McCullough, Abegail Morley, Anja Konig, man-of-the-moment Rishi Dastidar – no, not a Next Gen Poet yet, but just been appointed as one of the new Assistant Editors at The Rialto – plus Telltale poet Peter Kenny (launching his pamphlet) and myself.) Do I know yet what I’m going to read? No. Am I terrified? I’d have to break that down into 1) terror of what I’m going to say in front of my peers, many of whom are scarily illustrious poets, 2) terror of nobody turning up, 3) terror of so many people turning up they can’t get into the room and we run out of prosecco, 4) terror of the fridge breaking down and the prosecco being warm… and so on.
But here’s a nice thought to take my mind off it. On Saturday night I’m co-organising and singing in a concert with the super Lewes Singers, and have just learnt I have to sing a teeny (one minute) solo. And THAT my friends is more terrifying that any of it. Last time I had to sing an ‘almost’ solo (there were 3 of us) I had to have an emergency session at the hypnotherapist to get me through it. Gawds.
But … lots more excitement in the coming weeks. Firstly the Swindon Festival of Poetry on October 2nd – 5th. I’m really looking forward to catching up with poet friends from over that way, plus workshops with Jackie Wills and Cliff Yates, walks & readings with Maurice Riordan, Kathryn Maris, David Morley and others, and a class with the mighty Don Share. I wish I could get there on Thursday for the BlueGate Poets reading and Martin Malone and David Caddy on ‘The Editor’s Role’.
Then it’s back to Brighton for an all-day Saturday workshop with writers, on how to improve your social web presence ‘in a day’, at New Writing South. Should be intense but a lot of fun.
As for actual writing, tonight our Brighton Stanza meetings begin again after the summer, and tomorrow I’m starting with an online course at the Poetry School, looking at ‘left for dead’ poems and whether they can be revived. So that will be something to zero in on, and I’ll have deadlines to keep me going. I’ve not tried one of these courses before so it will be interesting to see how it goes, and whether it’s an improvement on the online poetry writing forum experiences I’ve had in the past.
I’ve also got plans for some interesting new features on this blog, including interviews, more about zines and blogs, and more poems from poets I’ve been reading lately, starting with Josh Ekroy – watch this space.
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!
Having just emerged from a book-writing marathon I’m now fighting a cold and the urge to feel pathetically sorry for myself! Not helped by the submissions doldrums – what on earth will it take for things to start moving? I have so many poems ‘out there’ and it must be easily 6 months since the last rejection. Is anyone else in this slump? It’s hard to summon up the motivation to send anything else out, EVER! Oh well maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. “Worse things happen at sea” as my mum used to say.
At least I have a number of exciting other projects in the pipeline, such as Telltale Press, which is finally preparing to poke its head above the parapet. I’ve discussed it over and over with poet and publisher friends, plus people who know about arts funding, (not to mention my solicitor and accountant!) trying to nail down the ethos of the whole thing, how it will work in practice, and I think it’s kind of there. The time has come to try it out! So we have 3 autumn launch events coming up, basically to launch Peter’s pamphlet and also to introduce Telltale. (If you’re interested, I’ve tweaked the ‘about’ page to better reflect the direction it’s going in).
Plus two other lovely events to look forward to – the Poetry Prom at Snape Maltings with Ian McMillan and John Hegley, and on September 6th it’s the Free Verse Poetry Book Fair at Conway Hall in London. I was a ‘helper’ there last year and this year I’m looking forward to taking in a few more of the readings, of which there are plenty. If you’re going too, let me know and let’s at least say hello.
OK so it doesn’t sound like a big deal, but the email from the Poetry Library says they get sent between 200 and 300 unsolicited publications every month, and my Telltale pamphlet The Great Vowel Shift has made the cut. It feels like vote of confidence. And yes, since I don’t have the might of a known poetry publisher name behind it, I’m chuffed to bits.
They’re more cautious about Telltale Press generally (because it publishes on a cost-sharing basis) and aren’t yet willing to list it as a new independent publisher, but are still happy for me to submit our pamphlets on a case-by-case basis. I do believe that the slight ‘taint’ still attached to new (or rather alternative, as it’s not new at all) ways of publishing will change as different models become more widespread.
For now, I’m satisfied that our editorial standards are high and I’m not even trying to make a profit. Perhaps it’s naive of me but I believe in poets pooling their (non-poetry related) talents and resources for a stronger presence. Telltale’s official launch will be in the autumn. Do watch this space (or better still, watch the Telltale blog) for news.
Janet Sutherland and Jeremy Page launching their new books in Lewes.
Somehow I managed to arrive too late for a seat at the Elephant & Castle yesterday evening (despite having a commute of approximately 30 seconds) but really enjoyed the atmosphere in the packed function room. Poets galore were joined by friends and neighbours for the joint launch of Bone Monkey by Janet Sutherland published by Shearsman and Closing Time by Jeremy Page, published by Pindrop Press.
The poets were introduced briefly by Maria Jastrzębska (Janet) and Jo Hemmant (Jeremy). I’m fortunate enough to be in a workshopping group with both Maria and Janet and am always so grateful both for their feedback on my own work but also for the opportunity to hear and see what they’re working on. Consequently, a few of the poems in Bone Monkey are familiar to me – I also heard Janet read from the book at the Needlewriters earlier in April, and I almost always appreciate a poem more for having heard it read more than once. Jeremy is the publisher of the Frogmore Press / Frogmore Papers, going now for 31 years, and he’s been kind enough to publish a couple of my poems in the magazine and the anthology Poems from the Old Hill. I’ve met Jo, who runs Pindrop Press, a few times, including when we read together at Tunbridge Wells library, an event organised by Abegail Morley, who was also there last night.
Candles, canapes, poetry and friends … great stuff. But alas, I had to make my apologies and leave before the end. I think I’m so fried with work at the moment. I haven’t had a chance yet to even open Closing Time, but I’m hoping to do so over the weekend when I may get some breathing/poetry space.
It’s been a thin year so far as regards writing, getting stuff out and accepted by magazines. I do have one excuse, which is that work has taken up a lot more of my time than usual these last 6 months. Not that I’m complaining, as my work and poetry interests continue to converge, slowly but surely. I now have ambitious plans for bringing all my activities under one virtual roof, combining blogs/websites/social outposts etc to create a united front. About time! Give me until the end of the year, though.
A quick what’s-been and will-be happening:
Last night I was at the Needlemakers in Lewes for the launch of Judith Kazantzis‘s new collection Sister Invention. It was a nice intimate affair with free-flowing prosecco. It’s a mighty book – hundreds of poems with (at first glance) a vast geographical and thematic span. I’m looking forward to delving into it.
Tomorrow – the New Writing South Publishing Industry Day at Brighton Library. I’m giving a short talk about ‘building a successful online writer presence’, after which we’re headed off to step-daughter’s 30th birthday party.
Next week, Janet Sutherland and Jeremy Page are holding a joint launch event for their respective new collections, Bone Monkey and Closing Time, and again just a few moments from my front door. How lucky am I?
I’ve had a few days off from writing about blogging, but it all kicks off again next week: book number two to begin, plus hundreds of image permissions to obtain… wish me luck.
June is looking interesting in terms of poetry events – I’ve been invited to read at the Lamb Festival in north London on June 2nd, then also that week we have a lovely event planned in memory of Jo Grigg, friend, poet and Brighton Stanza rep who died so suddenly year. Later in the month, Brighton Stanza are joining Palmers Green for a Stanza Bonanza at the Poetry Cafe. Always great fun, the only nail-biting bit being whether those of us living in the sticks manage to make the last train home.
