[quote]Originally posted by Michael Juster:

<<I was a loser for so long with the book contests...>>

They're such a lottery. I know poets who spend $500 to $1,000 a year in reading fees for contests and are depressed by the process. I haven't finished my first MS, but I've been (arrogantly) targeting presses for direct approach. I should think that seven years of rejections from increasingly less prestigious presses would be no more depressing than the same result with a significantly lighter wallet.

<<I'm not sure anyone should listen to me, but the one point that comes to mind is that I decided--arrogantly--to skip the chapbook competitions, and I think that was a mistake.>>

Perhaps so, and they don't HAVE to be competitions. Thomas Lux has published several chapbooks and will again if he feels his content is right for one. He uses Adastra press. There are several to approach directly.

<<I think they're less competitive, they're better for most younger poets because few can sustain quality over a full length manuscript, and I think the benefit of having a chapbook to raise one's profile is greater than I believed.>>

Nothing wrong with working your way up from Sarasota, through Trenton and Pawtucket to the Boston Red Sox.

Alicia, can your describe what you went through to get Archaic Smile published?

Bob

"I was a loser for so long with the book contests I'm not sure anyone should listen to me..."

"...I decided--arrogantly--to skip the chapbook competitions, and I think that was a mistake. I think they're less competitive, they're better for most younger poets because few can sustain quality over a full length manuscript, and I think the benefit of having a chapbook to raise one's profile is greater than I believed."

These are the quotes from Mike's post that I somehow expunged from my above post. Sorry.

Bob

I've always suspected that Juster is a forensic accountant for the C.I.A., so he's uniquely qualified to comment on the following observations. For a long time, I raised funds for Story Line (after they published me, no quid pro quo), and I asked McDowell what he needed to break even on a book. He thought it was about 1000 copies, i.e. roughly three times what most poetry books sell. The chairman of his board, Gioia, who like me is a businessman, told me it was 2500 copies, in which case Story Line has yet to break even on my first book! I asked Wilbur some years ago what world-wide sales of The Collected have been, and he thought around 10,000 copies. So folks, we have to realize that when a publisher does a trade book of poems, he is climbing into a tepid Roman bath and slitting his wrists. That's why we have these damn contests which attract 1000 submissions with reading fees of $15 a pop. I regard them as a complete crapshoot, but they work. Many of my friends, including Our Own Mike, Rhina, and Alicia have won them. I was damn lucky to find my way into print by over-the-transom submission.

.

[This message has been edited by Tom (edited January 30, 2005).]

Tom: Some great questions. Let me answer a few of the easier ones first, and I'll answer the rest after I work a little harder.

It sounds like I am in agreement with Billy Collins on this one. I have trouble coming up with what Thom Gunn calls "the occasions of poetry". I've only written one in the past three months, and it's not very good. It's not because my third floor study with my Larkinesque high windows is littered with failed drafts--it's because I'm short on those wonderful first lines that compel you to try to make a complete poem (OK, occasionally one of those wonderful closing lines).

I am envious of friends, like Len Krisak, who go through life hearing phrases or seeing scenes, and many times a day say, "Ah, there's a poem." I'm not being critical, but for me a phrase usually bubbles up very occasionally in quiet times--walking the dog, sitting in an airport terminal, poring over a guerilla commander's expense reports (just kidding, Tim) or something like that, and I get a little chill or chuckle, and then the sense of excitement that I might have a poem. Occasionally I have success "forcing" a poem, but not very often.

I have not compounded this problem by limiting my field to "memory", and I think it is actively bad to do so (I dunno, maybe some of you are leading more interesting lives than I do). I read a lot of newspapers on top of everything else, and they are frequently sources of inspiration even though I don't like quoting them as epigraphs. For instance, some of you may remember "Los Periquitos" from a few months ago. That came out of a newspaper piece that caught my eye about a year before a line bubbled up (even though I did not clip it), and somehow I started thinking about it again a year later just as I was killing a misguided tribute poem for Rhina and mulling 9/11. It then all started coming together in my mind as a new poem.

"The Secret Language Of Women" came out of a Boston Globe article that gripped me, so I clipped it and started some research on the history without a clear idea of what I wanted to do with it.

I would not consciously distort real history, such as suggesting that Selma or Vietnam were something other than what I genuinely believe they were, but personal history is another matter. So many poets make the mistake of thinking the task of poetry is to "accurately" describe their actual experiences, and then believing fiercely that their methodology somehow validates their art because it is "true". This is a trap for amateurs.

The goal of poetry is to stimulate the reader into unexpected states of mind--joy, mirth, somber reflection, and so on. It is statistically unlikely that a faithful recording of your day is the best way to do this. So chuck that burden if you're carrying it, and accept that poetry gives you the freedom to be a much more interesting person than you are, and it is perfectly legitmate to fuse memories, borrow images from newspapers, manufacture better stories and the like even if you are using the overused first person singular pronoun.

The poem in my reading repetoire that most often causes people to come up and talk to me is the aforementioned "Cancer Prayer". It is flattering that so many people believe that I was describing a particular woman who was close to me, but it simply isn't the case. To some extent, like most of my better poems, I'm not sure where it came from, but on reflection I think it's primarily a fusion of thoughts and images of three friends and family members (one male, two female) as well one line taken from a newspaper article somewhere that I don't specifically remember at all. A "true" poem about any of the three people in my mind would have produced worse poetry or no poetry at all, but I think "Cancer Prayer" is artistically truer because it found a way to touch something important in a slightly different way than it has been touched on before, which is why people react to it.

My literary schedule is hard to describe, but I probably spend less time actually writing than most people here. I juggle two jobs, two teenagers, political activity, nonliterary professional activities and some charitable work with my literary efforts, so I don't have huge amounts of time to read and write. I read quickly, and as much as I can--probably an average of 5 hours a week mostly on weekends and on planes. I was on vacation last week, and I read a ton sitting on the beach. I write 0-10 hours a week, almost exclusively nights and weekends, and dump the reading if I'm working intensely on a poem. I also try to use all my dead time as effectively as I can, so in my head I'm wrestling with problem lines when I'm commuting, sitting in dull meetings and the like. Airports are actually great places to write because they're so dull and you're so trapped.

When I was first timidly stepping over the line and taking poetry more seriously, I found Dana Gioia's essay on the poet-businessman very encouraging because it validated my notion that I didn't have to be an academic or stuck in a garret to write. However, at some point I reflected a bit more on Dana's case studies, and said, "WHOA!!! Eliot had a breakdown and Stevens had a suffocating personal life--maybe this isn't such a good idea after all!" Nonetheless, I stumbled on.

I did take a year off for medical and other reasons a few years ago, and that was when I had the opportunity to write the long poem "The Secret Language Of Women". That was also when I started at Eratosphere. With more leisure, I would undoubtedly write differently, but I'm not yet persuaded I would write better overall. Most of the time it seems that the better poems come when I have almost no time at all, and my Muse goes on vacation when I do.

Fascinating discussion.
It's interesting that businessmen also tend to make successful poets (except me).
What are the main reasons that prompt you to publish?
Regards,
David

It's a great question. Generally, it seems to be bad form in literary circles to be anything but diffident about publishing. I think that's odd. I think you write poetry because you feel you have something interesting to say. I think if you feel you have something interesting to say, you should share it with as many people as possible. For me, saying "I write poetry but I don't care about publishing" is like a hermit getting dressed to the nines for dinner each night.
I care about getting my work out, and I have to admit that I care where it gets published because it is some rough indicator as to how good the work is. Sure, there are many anomolies and injustices in the process, but I still think a serious poet should approach publication with a seriousness of purpose.

Hi Michael, as one of the "Six or so others" present on this board prior to your arrival, I would like to take this opportunity to pay tribute to the contribution you made towards the development of Eratosphere.

Thanks to your vision this board had the cachet to attract such luminaries as Ms Sullivan, Murphy, Krisak, Espaillat, Wakefield,Stallings, who in turn between them were instrumental in attracting guests here of extraordinary calibre.

My question is almost related to this last paragraph, it is my intention to attend West Chester next year, I cannot make it this year, although I note that Ginger will attend,
anyway to the point, what is in West Chester for me? I can understand how all you established guys can meet and chew the fat, comparing publishers and the finer points of being published, but how would a poet of my calibre and inclination benefit beyond that which I receive from participating on this board.

I would immediately see the benefit in engaging in the undoubted camaraderie, and would feel that I was meeting friends, is there more to attending, should there be more to attending?

I should tell you, I love the idea of going, and don't need any more reasons than those I've outlined, but I got to justify going to my wife.

A lot depends on your answer.


Finally thanks to Tim for this opportunity to say thanks;

Jim

Jimmy, me boy--"You established guys?" What a hoot. When I showed up at the first West Chester Conference seven years ago, I knew nobody and hadn't published anywhere for seventeen years. That's the point! You schmooze and make friends and maybe clear a path for your poems. Juster was an even more pathetic deer in the headlights than was I. "Established" indeed! I'll take a call from your wife. love, Tim