Dreaming in Iambic Pentameter

Look, it’s the Holidays. You know that and I know that–Heavens, I just got back from my daughter’s Homeroom Party where I was dressed as an elf. Now let’s talk about something more interesting.

I have a mixed bag of literary figures for you to consider: two dead and one alive, two English and one Portuguese, two men and one woman etc. etc. The main thing they have in common, as I see it, is writing with no other purpose primarily in mind BUT to write: no pressures of academia, no intent to conform to a given school, no drive to publish (other than that we all have, which is for others to be able to read our words.)

I’ll start with Stevie Smith. In a recent Thrift Shop haul I acquired an early edition of Homage to Mistress Bradstreet, complete with newspaper clipping obituary of John Berryman from 1972, and a copy of Stevie, the unauthorized 1985 biography by Jack Barbera and William McBrien. (Each book cost me 25c. I imagine, if you spent any time waiting in line at Barnes & Noble or Borders this holiday period, that fact makes you feel a little sick.) Born in 1902, Stevie followed an unconventional path to poetry. She became a secretary after leaving secondary school, and was introduced to the London literary scene after the critical and commercial success of her first autobiographical novel Novel on Yellow Paper. Her poetry is quirky and filled with a black humor that has survived the decades. She never married, and rumor has it she died a virgin, although she had several love affairs with men in her twenties and thirties. She illustrated her own books of poems, and considered the possibility (rather than the execution) of suicide to be a redeeming feature of an imperfect life. She is not well known in the US, although she retains a following in the UK thanks in part to her best known and much anthologized poem, also one of my own personal favorites, “Not Waving But Drowning.” So, if you’re bored with the cookie cutter poetry served up in the likes of APR, you could do worse than google Stevie. You might even find one of her poetry books (Tender Only to One and A Good Time Is Had By All) in a Thrift Shop near you.

My former teacher Stephen Dunn is lecturing at Bennington in January. Now I admire Stephen hugely, and his book of essays Walking Light is one of the reasons I am currently pursuing an MFA myself. When the letter came out with his lecture topic, therefore, it was natural for me to want to find out a little about it in advance. Who is Fernando Pessoa? I asked myself. It turns out to be a perplexing question. Fernando Pessoa was a Portuguese poet and man of letters famous not only for his poetry but also for his heteronyms. He wrote a vast body of material (fiction, essays, poetry, plays) under a number of pseudonyms, but was unique in claiming to feel the presence of each of these personalities as strongly (some would say stronger) than he did his own. Each heteronym had his own style: Alberto Caeiro was a natural poet of minimal formal education; Ricardo Reis was a classically educated modern pagan etc. etc. Again, Fernando had hardly any involvement with academic life–he worked as a professional writer and translator until his death from alcoholism in his early forties. My knowledge of his poetry is limited, although I plan to use the gift card from my good friend KB to purchase the newest selected translation, but his essay collection Always Astonished is a must read. He was a unique genius: he knew that the Russian Revolution would not produce a communist utopia before it occurred, and he recognized Po-Biz seventy years before the name was coined. He has plenty to say on the subject of poetic endeavor, but I’ll confine myself to some much needed words of encouragement:

Whoever at his death leaves behind one beautiful line of verse leaves the skies and the earth richer and the reason for there being stars and people more emotionally mysterious.

Finally in this list I offer you a contemporary writer and thinker, Paul Hurt. I don’t know too much about Mr. Hurt, except that he is, like the other two, a total original unassociated with academia. I came across him because he has written a meticulously thought out essay on Jared Carter’s poetry. Then I browsed around his site, assuming he was a poet, and realized that he is much more than that.

So, there you have it. If you don’t want to watch the rerun of It’s a Wonderful Life this year (although I admit it is a great film) or, forgive the sacrilege, if the Eagles Cowboys (?) game at 5 pm on Christmas Day leaves you cold, follow any of the links in this non-holiday themed blog entry and seek inspiration from genius.

Right, time to put the elf suit back on. The Gymnastics Holiday party is dead ahead.

A few days ago I received an email inviting me, in my capacity as Editor of The Barefoot Muse, to participate in a discussion group called Literary Online. Naturally I jumped at the chance and I am so happy I did. This group is on fire with ideas for promoting online literature and creating an online publishing community!

Those of you who read these pages regularly will be aware that I have been known to shake my head at the ‘buddy system’ that can operate in PoBiz and print publishing. I have always also understood that it is highly unlikely either the poems I nominated for the Pushcart Prize, or my own poems nominated by e-zines, actually have a chance of winning, due in part to the less prestigious reputation of Internet literature.

This group seeks to change all that. Here’s the Mission Statement, albeit not yet finalized:

To raise awareness and improve the public image of online literary publishing. Toward this end, we will work to provide resources to internet publishers, writers, and readers. We will further provide and advocate for awards and other venues recognizing excellence in online literary publishing and writing.

Any e-zine editor or interested party can join the discussion group at this stage (and it would be a good idea to have some contributors who were readers of Internet literature rather than writers/editors.) Just click on the button below to become part of this important venture.

Click to join literaryonline

Today Rachel, Donna and I headed to Media, PA to attend the Mad Poets’ Review Book Release Party. It was a blast, and I wish we could have stayed longer, as the Mad Poets were settling into the nearby bar, Sligo, for what looked like a long, boozy post-party party.

But what I want to address in this post is actually how wrong we authors can be about our own work. Now, I had never read the poem in this issue publically before, and was nervous about doing so. I shall put it up on my website and edit in a link after I’ve written this post, and I think it will be clear why. Basically it includes cariactures of several poetry reading types I have observed in the more than several years I have been attending readings. I was concerned that poets in the audience (and the audience consisted almost entirely of the contributors to the issue) would identify with one of the types and feel offended. I think it’s fair to say poets are often easily offended, so that isn’t too much of a stretch.

But honestly? There was loads of laughter, none of it uneasy in the slightest, and plenty of applause. Someone even whooped. I don’t write too many funny poems, so I’m not that accustomed to laughter anyway.

I’ve read poems I thought were great at readings before, and had them bomb completely. But that’s the first time I’ve really worried about a poem’s reception AND the first time I’ve heard someone actually whoop afterwards…

As the end of the year is traditionally a time for review (and as part of some other ruminations I have been having on the nature of PoBiz,) I thought it might be of interest to my readers to see just how bloody hard I’ve worked for the results I’ve achieved in 2006.

First of all, how many poems have I written? Well, I can’t give a precise answer to this, but because of the MFA I can tell you how many I have written that I have deemed worthy to send to my professors. The answer is 73. Of those 73 poems, 11 are now what I have euphemistically called “on hold” (junk), 9 have been published/accepted for publication, 19 are out at various journals/contests, 15 are still under review at Bennington, and the rest are in some sort of limbo between two of those states.

Now, I have had 35 poems accepted for publication this year (not counting the 6 which have appeared solely in my chapbook, Swimming.) However, 13 of those poems were outstanding submissions from 8 venues I had submitted to last year, so in fact only 22 poems were both submitted and accepted this year. How many poems did I submit in 2006?

Folks, I submitted 164 poems in all, to 34 venues (some repeat subs).

97 were rejected. 10 venues rejected everything I sent.

The 22 poems were accepted by 11 venues. 3 venues are currently holding a total of 6 poems for second review.

I am considering one venue defunct, and that leaves 9 venues still to respond.

I have also, alas, suspicions that neither all the acceptances nor all the rejections were made entirely on merit (although many, of course, were.) This is PoBiz after all, and I am not connected, nor do I have any very well-connected friends, (although I do wield a certain minor influence in the highly niche world of predominantly online formal poetry.)

So the question is: is this what I eschew reality TV for every evening, slaving away over my keyboard to research journals, select and revise poems, print poems and envelopes etc.? Is all this worth potentially damaging my health for? (The answer to that last is of course, No!)

One problem is, I believe, that PoBiz is too much like an exclusive club to which the tickets are expensive (an MFA runs into the tens of thousands of dollars) and where if someone buys you a drink they expect clear payment in kind.

I shall finish the MFA, but my friends, consider this notice that I don’t expect anyone to buy me a drink, and I won’t be buying any back.

The alternative is for me to proceed, as I have done, with my own ‘zine, and in my editorial contribution to the QND publication, Up & Under, to publish only excellent poems, and to choose them entirely on merit. I intend to be more selective in my own submissions process next year and shall submit only to those journals who I perceive operate along similar principles. Please note: we online journals, while we tend to be less cliquish than print journals, especially those run out of academia, must be careful of our own acceptance procedures and editorial policies. What would be wonderful would be if we could create a community of online journals which is purer than the potentially corrupt world of print.

Well, I shall be doing my part, anyway. And maybe next year I’ll get to watch a few episodes of American Idol, as well.

This afternoon I checked my Spam folder and discovered an email that had languished there since Friday from the good folks at Toasted Cheese.

They’ve only gone and nominated my short story Desert Creatures for a Pushcart! I’m almost embarassed to remind you that this is my third nomination for this year, and my first ever in fiction. I’d like to imagine that my chances of winning one are thus multiplied by three, but I don’t realistically think it’s the case.

Still, I’d like to thank once more all three of the editors who have nominated me. As my regular readers know, this Fall has been less than spectacular for me in several ways, and these small displays of admiration for my work go a long way toward redressing the balance.

Here’s the press release for the new issue:

News & Views From The Barefoot Muse