One Night Stanzas

An earlier version of this post appeared at One Night Stanzas in September 2008

If you’ve read What’s The Deal With Poetry Readings?, then you know that I encourage people to read their poetry aloud at every possible opportunity (audience or no audience)! But I also appreciate that getting up in front of a load of strangers and reading your poetic creations can be pretty nerve-wracking, so I have a few words of advice to anyone who’s thinking about embarking on their first ever reading…

1. Say yes.
If you spot a poster advertising a local open mic, or if someone approaches you to read at their event, grab the opportunity with both hands! As I’ve already explained in What’s The Deal With Poetry Readings?, you should aim to begin reading your poetry as soon as you feel even semi-confident, because it’s such a helpful and empowering exercise. Of course, if the idea petrifies you, the urge to say “I can’t, I’m busy that night,” or “I think I’ll just go along and watch” will be very strong… but you have to fight your fears! Make yourself say yes! Commit yourself, and don’t back out. You’ll be glad you kept your nerve afterwards.

2. Be prepared.
Please don’t get onto the stage with your notebook and then just turn to a random page. While this can work for more established readers, it’s not a good idea for a first-time gig! Find a handful of poems you love. Practice on your own, then in front of your parents/siblings/partner/someone you trust, then in front of a bigger group of family or friends. Get really familiar with the stuff you want to read — this will make mistakes and blushes much less likely!

3. Put yourself first.
Negotiate with the event organiser, if you can, about where you go in the line-up. I would actually advise you to try for an early spot — first, even, if you can bear it. OK, so opening the show might be your worst nightmare, but think: you get the audience at its best, before they’ve had time to get tired, bored or drunk, and before they’ve started thinking about going out for a cigarette or nipping to the loo. You have their full attention, and they have no expectations of you — plus, if you go first, everyone will think you’re incredibly brave and be in awe!

4. Enjoy yourself.
You’ll be surprised: reading your work to an audience is actually a really, really fun experience. Acknowledge that! Don’t get up on stage with a frown and spend the whole time panicking about the slight quiver in your voice. If your knees are knocking or you’re blushing furiously, crack a joke about first-time nerves and just carry on. Getting a reaction from the audience is incredibly rewarding, so make sure you perform for them — don’t just hide behind the mic or stare at your feet the whole time. Make eye contact — I normally pick out my friends in the audience and glance up at them from time to time, or focus on the bar staff or the guys at the sound desk (they’re normally far too busy to see you looking at them!). And smile! Flash the audience a big smile whenever they react to you, and you’ll be guaranteed a huge round of applause at the end.

5. Love your audience.
No matter what your irrational brain thinks, your audience is not the enemy. They are not there to laugh, throw rotten tomatoes or judge you harshly — people who go to poetry readings are generally people who really like poetry! Your audience will know how hard it is to a) write a poem and b) get up and read it to strangers, so chances are they will admire you for what you‘re doing. You really should love and appreciate your audience. In some cases, they’ve paid money to see you (money which may well come back to you at the end of the night!) and they’ll often come up to you after the reading to offer advice and encouragement. Don’t be afraid to chat to your audience members; their reactions can be really helpful, and I guarantee that no one will come up and say “you were rubbish, give up,” or anything along those lines. They may say things like “I couldn’t hear you very well,” or “that one poem was a bit long,” but don’t be disheartened by these comments! They can be really useful, and they’re almost always accompanied by something like “but it didn’t matter, because you were awesome!”

6. Look forward.
Everyone is nervous before their first ever reading — but I have good news for you! No other reading you do in the future will be anywhere near as nerve-wracking as the first. Many people told me this as I was preparing for my first reading — that every reading thereafter is a piece of cake — and in my freaked-out state of mind I thought, “yeah right!” However, when I got onto the stage at my second ever reading, all the problems that had plagued me at my first reading — blushing, quivering voice, being unable to make eye-contact with my audience — disappeared. I was playing to a much bigger crowd second time around, but none of it fazed me — I loved every second. So look forward! The thought of your first reading may keep you awake at night, but it’s a big milestone, and once you pass it, it’s plain sailing.

Any seasoned readers want to offer any other pointers? Tell me about your first ever poetry-reading experience. How did it go?

Check out the other articles in the Dear Poetry Newbies… series!

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You can also visit Read This Press for more poetry (and typewriter paraphernalia!). Alternatively, check out Edinburgh Vintage, our sister site. If you want to get in touch you can follow OneNightStanzas on Twitter, or email claire[at]onenightstanzas.com. I reply as swiftly as I can!

(Photo credit)

A previous version of this post appeared at One Night Stanzas in September 2008.

There are a lot of people out there who will tell you that in order to become a successful writer, you will definitely need some kind of creative-writing-specific qualification. However, there are also a lot of people out there who will tell you that you should avoid creative writing qualifications like the plague. Personally, I decided to go down the qualification route: I have a MSc in Creative Writing and I’m soon to complete a Creative Writing PhD. In light of this, I thought I’d stick my oar in on the subject.
I’m not going to say a definite yes or no either way — you may or may not want or need a creative writing qualification. You may not know right now. You may have people telling you what you should or shouldn’t do on all sides. At the end of the day, the ‘to study or not to study?’ question is yours to answer… but I can offer some pros and cons, dos and don’ts to help you.

Creative writing courses: Pros

- Courses provide opportunities for quality workshopping and mentoring.

- Seminars and tutorials are often run by experienced writers (or former writers).

- You learn about writing, editing, drafting and publishing processes… on some courses you can also learn about how writing is marketed, distributed and sold.

- Opportunities for publication may well be open to you.

- You’re surrounded by other writers like yourself who understand your ambition and won’t try to discourage you.

- You get honest, useful feedback on your work, and help to implement changes.

- More and more courses are springing up all the time, and more and more people are taking them - this means more choice when it comes to where and when you study, how you study and with whom.

- Being part of a course-group often provides opportunities to attend writing-related events, and to meet people in the writing business.

Creative writing courses: Cons

- Creative writing is a very specialised field and you may find yourself with limited career options when your course has finished.

- Creative writing is sometimes looked down upon, or not always well-respected - by businesses and even by some academics.

- There is a common belief that creative writing cannot actually be “taught” and so courses are a waste of time.

- Courses of all kinds can be very costly, particularly if you enroll at a prestigious institution.

- Some courses are run and taught by individuals who do not have sufficient knowledge or experience of the field.

- Workshops can often be less constructive in a long-term course situation, because cliques and animosities can develop between classmates.

- Some writers (even some editors) reserve a certain kind of snobbery for those with creative writing qualifications.

- Because more and more people are studying creative writing, qualifications of this kind are becoming less unique and as a result, less respected.

Dos and don’ts.

DO find a highly-rated course at a good institution. Yes, it’s expensive to go to a good Uni or college, but you generally do get what you pay for. Make sure the qualification you get is going to be legitimate and useful.

DON’T take online creative writing “Masters” or “Degree”, particularly if you have to pay for them. They are generally worthless on paper. (Some online short courses are good, but generally aren’t accredited — so you don’t end up with an actual qualification at the end.)

Probably DON’T take creative writing as your first University degree. By doing so you may back yourself into a corner when it comes to career options. Take a more open-ended degree and specialise in creative writing later, or take a creative writing module or postgraduate course.

DON’T feel that you have to rush into taking a course. If you finish high school or graduate from your degree and you want to do other things first, do by all means. If you want to produce some more writing first, do. No hurry.

DO make sure you can afford your chosen course. If you can’t, look around at other courses - but DON’T just enrol “because it’s cheap”. There may be a reason for that. At the same time, DON’T assume a course is really good because it’s expensive. Do your research.

DO make sure that, if you’re required to have “writing experience,” you have some. You may well be in a class with people who have a fair few publications and projects under their belt. If you’ve only ever written three poems, look for a course designed for beginners.

DO vet the course-organisers and tutors before you apply. Do they sound like they have the right experience/type of writing/research interests to teach you?

DO vet the course, too. Does it go in the direction you want? Does it look unprofessional, or too academic? Trust your instincts, get on a course that will benefit you personally.

DO search around for funding, from student loans, grants, bursaries and scholarships. DON’T run up your course bill on a credit card or via a personal loan unless you’re sure you can manage it.

DON’T take the word of people who say you must or must not study creative writing. Listen to their advice, but DON’T feel obliged to act on it.

DON’T start a course if you already think you might find it too hard, or you might drop out. It can be really costly.

DO vet “free” courses very, very carefully.

DON’T assume that taking a course will make you a writing superstar… but also DON’T assume that, just because it won’t, it’s worthless.

I’d love to hear what you think about the benefits and disadvantages of creative writing courses. Have you done one? Give me your feedback!

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You can also visit Read This Press for more poetry (and typewriter paraphernalia!). Alternatively, check out Edinburgh Vintage, our sister site. If you want to get in touch you can follow OneNightStanzas on Twitter, or email claire[at]onenightstanzas.com. I reply as swiftly as I can!

(Photo credit)

A previous version of this post appeared at One Night Stanzas in September 2008.

If you write poems, or if you’re interested in poetry, chances are you’re aware of the phenomenon of live poetry readings at some level. However, many young poets – even if they’ve been writing for ages – are fairly clueless about these events (because getting up and reading your own words to a room full of strangers can seem like total insanity!). If you’ve never performed at a poetry reading, and if you’re unsure about what they entail, take a look at this list and get yourself involved! The sooner you start reading your poetry to audiences, the better: fact. Why? Because live readings = four major advantages!

One: Live readings build better poems.
Reading your poetry to an audience can be extremely helpful when it comes to developing your personal poetic voice. Sometimes, what works on the page does not necessarily work when read aloud, so a reading can help you polish up a piece that you previously felt was finished… always a good thing! Reading aloud – and observing the reactions of your audience – also helps you to ‘inhabit’ a poem more fully; you’ll be better able to judge whether the poem’s tone or mood ‘works,’ for example, or whether your audience are convinced by a particular character you portray or a story you tell. Audience members will often seek you out afterwards to tell you what they loved about your stuff, too – make sure you listen to this feedback, because it can be extremely helpful! And even if you can’t use your audience to judge a poem’s ‘performance’ quality, you’ll often see and hear the best and worst bits of your poems much more clearly when you have to take them from page to performance. Reading aloud builds better poems and so I’d always encourage you to do it – audience or no audience!

Two: Readings help you conquer the world.
Reading your poetry in public – particularly the first time – can be very nerve-wracking. It doesn’t matter if you’re a daredevil extreme sports junkie or a budding thespian in your spare time; you’ll probably still find the idea of presenting your personal poetic creations to a potentially critical audience fairly terrifying. BUT! Don’t let the nerves stop you from going ahead with it, because once you’ve felt and conquered that fear, you can probably find the confidence to do anything! If you can step up onto a stage and read your stuff to an audience, then chances are a school presentation or daunting job interview should be a walk in the park! Reading your work builds your confidence massively, and gains you serious respect! The first time is always a scary prospect, but there are ways around this fear.

Three: You get your name in lights!
OK, so maybe not in lights, necessarily, but you get your name “out there.” In poetry, unfortunately, a big part of being successful is knowing and being known by the right people, so getting involved at readings can be the best way to make an impression. Even at small open mic gigs, there’s a chance you might run into a local magazine editor or poetry blogger, who might well give you a positive write-up or even ask you for a submission of work. Readings are fantastic for networking so make an effort to chat to people… and who knows? You could meet a future agent, editor, writing partner or publisher!

Four: Readings provide the three essential Cs.
Constructive criticism, contacts, and craic, of course! As I mentioned in point one, after you’ve got up and given your all, chances are you’ll get people coming to tell you what they thought. Don’t worry! You’ll rarely hear anything negative – even if you don’t feel like you did very well, you can guarantee that there’ll still be people who’ll want to tell you “that was great.” And why would they lie? This positive feedback is great for building your confidence, and improving not only your future performances but also the poems themselves. If you’re feeling extra brave, you can even ask people for details. Which poem did they like in particular? Which one was weakest? Was there anything they’d have done differently? Listen carefully to the answers you get, even if you don’t act on them.
The ‘contacts’ part doesn’t just apply to the editors and agents I mentioned in point three, either. Obviously, the people you’re most likely to meet at poetry readings are other poets! These are people who are into the same stuff as you, doing the same thing as you (and, you never know, possibly just as nervous as you, too!)… get talking to them, listen to their work, get their feedback. That’s where the ‘craic’ part comes in!

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You can also visit Read This Press for more poetry (and typewriter paraphernalia!). Alternatively, check out Edinburgh Vintage, our sister site. If you want to get in touch you can follow OneNightStanzas on Twitter, or email claire[at]onenightstanzas.com. I reply as swiftly as I can!

(Photo credit)

An earlier version of this post appeared at One Night Stanzas in September 2008.

When I was a just-starting-out poet, I used to avoid telling anyone what my hobby was. Why? Well, because whenever I told anyone, all I ever seemed to get was negativity and disbelief. (”You write poetry?! Why?!”) Later, I realised that people react this way because over the years, they have come to believe in a whole load of poetic untruths… strange myths that have built up around the craft of creative writing, and poetry in particular. You’ve probably encountered some of the poetry myths below, so read on to see how you can beat them.

1: All poetry is boring.
You hear this all the time, and OK, it’s partly right - yes, some poetry is boring. I mean, I’m of the view that even the most notoriously “dull” poets (even my less-than-favourite, Mr Keats) were and are still capable of producing brilliant work, but that’s beside the point. The point is that most poems - and I mean at least 85% of all published poems - are far from boring. Some poetry is interesting because it addresses an issue, some because it uses language, form, rhythm etc in original and fascinating ways. Some poetry is interesting because it’s funny, some because it’s experimental. Some poetry is interesting because it’s just plain bad (check out William McGonagall’s greatest work, for example - it’s gained a reputation for being a really good bad poem… if that makes sense). But no one will ever know how interesting poetry really is unless they get out there and read it. So here’s a challenge: go forth and read poems, until you find one - any one - that you think is really interesting, for whatever reason. Buy the book, copy the poem out, or print it. Next time someone says to you “why do you like poetry? It’s boring!”, show them your ‘interesting’ poem, and explain why you think it’s awesome. Hopefully, it’ll open their eyes a bit!

2: Poetry is difficult.
When people say this, what they generally mean is that they’ve found a lot of the poetry they’ve encountered hard to understand. This may well relate back to their English class experiences, where pupils are generally taught to break down and analyse a poem, rather than just enjoy it. When people don’t know any better, they assume all poetry has hidden layers which need to be ‘de-coded,’ and that poems are designed to be a challenge. I like to point the ‘poetry is difficult’ crowd in the direction of Philip Larkin’s “This Be The Verse” (warning: strong language!), because it’s one of the most plain-speaking poems I’ve ever come across… I mean, what’s difficult to understand about that?! You might also want to keep a straightforward, what-you-see-is-what-you-get poem to hand, so you can easily bust this myth when you hear it!

3: Poetry is full of “deep meanings” and stuff.
This one is really popular, and can be tricky to bust. Because poems are so strongly associated with this process of studying and analysing, people don’t realise that, when they’re written, they’re supposed to be like any other piece of art - something for the reader to enjoy, essentially. There are a lot of poets around today who deliberately write poems that require no ‘analysis’ whatsoever - ‘accessible’ poems, where you can take just about everything at face-value. (The most high-profile writer and promoter of ‘accessible’ verse is probably Billy Collins, who writes poems about smoking cigarettes, forgetting things and listening to “Three Blind Mice”, among other things!) But you don’t necessarily need to hunt out a simplistic, accessible poem in order to bust this myth - any poem can be interesting and enjoyable, whether you know its deeper meanings or not. T S Eliot’s epic The Waste Land is stuffed with weird references and metaphors. If you don’t know what some of them are, that certainly doesn’t make you stupid… but it also doesn’t make the poem a total dead loss either. It is fine to read poems simply in order to enjoy the weird and wonderful sounds, words and phrases they make (”The corpse you planted last year in your garden, / has it begun to sprout?” or “at the violet hour” or “what the thunder said”, for example), even if you have no idea about the meaning. A poem is supposed to be enjoyed, so don’t sweat it!

4: Poems aren’t relevant these days.
I’ll admit that when people say this, I generally want to stamp my feet and yell ‘no no no no no!’ at them. This is a blinding untruth - there are heaps of poems which are so relevant to today. In fact, there are poems which even transcend time and space (no, really) - they’ll still be relevant in a million years time!
Firstly, there are loads of poets out there who write about our world and its happenings as they are right now - even as they happen. There are hundreds of poems about major recent events, and loads of poets inventing new styles for the 21st century (how about poetry based on Google searches?!). There are also poems out there which have been around for decades or even centuries, and which can still speak for all of us when we need them to. The film Four Weddings and a Funeral used a poem by WH Auden (written in 1938) to express grief at a modern-day funeral, for example (simultaneously making it one of the most popular funeral poems around), and that’s only one example of thousands and thousands of poems that can still communicate with a 21st century audience, regardless of when they were written. And thanks to the internet and other resources, poetry is more accessible, experimental and relevant than ever before… fact!

5: Writing poetry is a waste of time, because you can’t make a career out of it.
Er… what? Yes you can make a career out of it… people do. OK, not millions of people, but still, it’s not impossible. And not many people make a career out of, say, playing hockey, or knitting, or skydiving… but some people do. And we still play hockey, knit, skydive, and do a million other things, even though we know we may not make a career out of any of them. Would you tell a bunch of guys playing football at the park that they should stop doing it because they’ll never make a career out of it? No - so why is poetry different? Why is poetry only worthwhile if it generates income?!
I can’t answer this question - but I can tell you that it is 100% OK to write poetry, regardless of your reasons. Maybe you need a theraputic outlet for your feelings; maybe, like many people, you just can’t not write. Maybe it’s just a hobby you have… or maybe you do eventually want to try and make a career out of writing. As long as you set realistic goals for yourself and don’t allow other people to pressure or distract you, writing poetry is as natural an activity as playing sport or driving a car or being a compulsive shopaholic. It is never a waste of time. Ever.

6: Writing poetry is “emo.”
Personally, I don’t tend to dignify this kind of thing with a response. It comes in two forms from two different types of people. One: those who reckon that anyone (of any age) who writes poetry must also be histrionic and hyper-sensitive, and two: those who think that any young person who writes poetry is a nitwit, because “youth poetry” is for some reason associated with sobbing goths writing in their journals. Both of these standpoints are equally ignorant and ill-informed.
Basically, saying all poetry is “emo” (whether you mean “emotional” or “to do with emo pop-culture”) is a massive generalisation… and it’s a meaningless one, too. It’s like saying writing poetry is “gay” (even more ignorant!) or, I don’t know… “tall.” Does everyone who falls into a certain category write poetry? Nope. Does everyone who writes poetry fall into the same category? Er, nope. Is applying daft made-up categories to poetry something only done by idiots? You decide.

7: All poems are about love or death.
Or nature. Or war. Or space travel. Or animals. Or ghosts. Or crazy made-up creatures in their own fantastical world. Busted? I think so!

8: Poetry is for old people.
I’ve had cheeky students say this to me a time or two, and, although it’s not quite what they meant, they are sort of right. Sadly, there are people out there in the poetry community who don’t see younger poets as ‘real’ poets… TS Eliot once said that you can’t be a serious writer until you are at least 25, and lot of people believed him.
Viewing age as a deciding factor in how good someone’s poems are is prejudice, plain and simple… it is NOT something you should pay attention to. Poetry is an artform that’s open to everyone - regardless of age, gender, sexuality, nationality or anything else. You do NOT need to be on the planet a quarter of a century before you can write a poem (or understand one). Anyone can write poetry and anyone can read it, and I’m convinced that there’s a poem out there to suit everyone… not just old people!

9: All poetry has to rhyme.
I think this myth is less common than it used to be, but you do still encounter people who genuinely believe that if it don’t rhyme, it aint poetry. People who say this are similar to those who say things like “poetry is just prose with line breaks” (though a bit less annoying), and, as with the “poetry is difficult” myth, the best way to bust this one is just to produce some examples. Find a poem you love that does not rhyme. Tell the myth-confused person in question why it’s a great piece of literature. If you have to, find a dictionary definition of ‘poetry‘ for them to go with it!

10: No one reads poetry anymore.
OK, I saved the best til last. People LOVE to do this whole “poetry is dead” speech. Martin Amis even went so far as to say that poetry had died, been buried and had its obituary written. It’s probably the most common myth you’ll encounter on your poetic travels - it’s all over the press, and spun out by just about every miserable, procrastinating writer under the sun at some point. But guess what… it’s not true!
Heaps of people still read poetry. People still buy it, listen to it, go and see it live. And I mean thousands of people. Problem is, a lot of them are all the same kind of people…
Poetry has not died, but it has become a bit enclosed. The people who still take an interest in it tend to be poets, editors or publishers themselves, or people involved with academia - students, tutors and other scholars. Your average bricklayer or bank manager or nurse doesn’t tend to read poetry too often… and why? Because of the other nine myths, of course! People really do believe them!
But it is possible to get more people reading poetry. One: read poetry yourself. Buy poetry books, go to poetry readings. It helps the poets, the publishers, and your own writing, so what’s to lose? Two: keep writing. The more poetry there is, the more choice there is; the more evidence to contradict the myths that poetry is difficult, limited, boring, etc. And three: introduce people you know to poetry. Got a friend who’s fed up at work? Find a short, funny poem and text it to them with a quick ’saw this and thought of you.’ Email your partner a daft love poem. Make up a print-out of a load of your favourite poems as a present for someone you know. Write a poem to scribble in your granny’s birthday card. Hold a poetry reading in your living room and get all your friends to bring a poem each - be it one they wrote, or just one they like. Test people - ask them if they think these myths are true, and be prepared to bust any they say ‘yes’ to. You have the power to poem-ify people’s lives… just squash the myths!

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You can also visit Read This Press for more poetry (and typewriter paraphernalia!). Alternatively, check out Edinburgh Vintage, our sister site. If you want to get in touch you can follow OneNightStanzas on Twitter, or email claire[at]onenightstanzas.com. I reply as swiftly as I can!

(Photo credit)

An earlier version of this post appeared at One Night Stanzas in September 2008.

Writer’s Block is every poet’s worst nightmare. It takes advantage of the times you’re too busy or happy or miserable to think about sitting down to write, and then it digs its claws in. Sometimes, it only lasts a week or so before it gets bored and wanders off to find another victim – other times it sticks around for months, preventing you from putting pen to paper in any kind of meaningful way.
As you can probably tell, I like to visualise Writer’s Block as a small, annoying, fanged, furry creature. Why? Because that way, I feel more like I can beat it, squash it, call in my imaginary pest-control. I can get rid of it any time I want – and so can you. In fact, if you want to, you can write a poem – and a good poem – RIGHT NOW.

Read poetry.
I say this all the time – in fact, everyone says this all the time – and it may sound like a cliché, but it is the most important thing you can possibly do as a poet. Reading other people’s poetry teaches you to write better stuff, but it also gets you fired up and gives you inspiration when you need it. When I want to write but can’t find the ideas, I read other people’s poems until I find a line that makes me think “I could expand on that,” or even “I could’ve worded that better.” When I want to write but nothing sounds any good, I turn to poems I really enjoy and admire, to ‘remind’ me how it’s done. Using other people’s poetry as a jumping-off point for an original work is not plagiarism, and poets do it all the time. Can’t find a poem that inspires you? Get to a library, bookshop or thrift store and look around until something leaps off a page at you (it will, eventually, honest). You can even try looking online – check out this page for some great online poetry sites.

Read poetry you don’t like.
I got this one from a former creative writing tutor, and funnily enough, it works. Everyone has a poet they really, really hate – often one whose work they’ve been forced to analyse in school. Who’s yours? Maybe you have a few? And probably the last thing you want to do when you’re feeling creatively challenged is look at the poetry of someone whose very name gets you foaming at the mouth with loathing. Well, try it. Drag out Wordsworth’s Daffodils or Keats’ Grecian Urn or whatever your least-favourite poem happens to be, and read it over once again. This time, ask yourself: why do I hate this poem? Is it because it’s actually a bad poem, or is there another reason? Do I hate it because I don’t fully understand it? Because I associate it with something negative? Or is it just not to my taste? Think about what puts this particular poet on your personal blacklist… and then do the opposite. Try to find good bits in the poem – is there a particular line that stands out from the rest? Does the basic idea of the poem appeal to you? Has the poet used any unusual words or created an interesting metaphor? Analyse the poem fairly – and from a personal point of view (none of this textbook-style, “what are the hidden meanings?” stuff). Once you’ve worked out why you can’t stand this poet – or once you’ve realised that actually, maybe they’re not a total imbecile – you can start to think about your own work. Write the antithesis of a Wordsworth poem, or try putting yourself in Keats’ shoes and writing in his style. Reading your most hated author really can inspire you, honest. Try it!

Read absolutely ANYTHING.
Noticing a pattern here? That’s because reading = writing: fact. The more you read, the better you write, and although obviously poetry is the best thing to get you into a poetry-writing frame of mind, just about anything that involves the written word can inspire you. I once wrote a poem inspired by a Louise Welsh novel, and another inspired by a newspaper cutting about a grassfire. Hundreds of people have written poems inspired by letters they’ve read, sent, received. I know one poet who wrote an ode to her telephone directory when she realised it was out of date, and started reading through it. Reading other people’s words can be really inspiring – no matter what they are. Try grabbing whatever written thing is nearest to you – be it a novel, a how-to book, a pamphlet or an instruction manual. Read it over, pick a line you like, and imagine it is the title of a poem. Write that poem.

Freewrite.
This is something I do with my students when they’re feeling at a loss for words. If you ask me, all words are good words, and just about anything can be a poem or story if you’re willing to shape it into one. Basically, you start with a blank sheet and a pencil, you count to three, and then you start writing. You write anything, and you keep writing without stopping until the page is full. No stopping to think, no trying to turn the writing into any kind of coherent shape – just write. One pupil of mine, a twelve-year-old boy who found creative writing “really hard,” started free-writing about what he’d been up to at the weekend (camping in the woods with his mates, apparently), and ended up with the first few paragraphs of a great adventure story. Another, Lisa – fourteen and very shy – was mad with her sister and free-wrote a letter to God asking why He’d decided to make the two sisters so different. It became a weird and wonderful poem for her school portfolio. Many students (me too) find it hard to stop at just one page. Freewriting is writing, after all, and when you’ve been struck by the pesky Writer’s Block, it feels brilliant to be putting pen to paper.
NB: Freewriting is NOT about trying to make ‘a poem’ or ‘a story’ or even a ‘good’ piece of writing. It could turn out to be garbage, and you have to let it, and not be annoyed with yourself if it does. But chances are, it won’t – I bet you find that something emerges.

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You can also visit Read This Press for more poetry (and typewriter paraphernalia!). Alternatively, check out Edinburgh Vintage, our sister site. If you want to get in touch you can follow OneNightStanzas on Twitter, or email claire[at]onenightstanzas.com. I reply as swiftly as I can!

(Photo credit)

An earlier version of this post appeared at One Night Stanzas in September 2008.

1: Thou shalt not lie.
I know I keep banging on about “being yourself,” but it’s important! So when it comes to sending off your work, not lying means not pretending that you haven’t sent your work elsewhere if you have, not making up imaginary writing credits or other frillies to spice up your bio, and not using other people’s material without crediting them or asking their permission. OK?

2: Thou shalt not be rude.
Do you want these people to publish you or not?! Always be polite and respect magazine staff and eds.

3: Thou shalt not be lazy about your cover letter..
Any kind of correspondence that informs your editor that you “hav sum poems 4u guys 2 read” (or the like) is going to seriously damage your chances! And no cover letter is basically just rude.

4: Thou shalt not be negative.
Assuming that your poems will be rejected is not the way to go, and saying as much in your cover-letter (e.g. “I’m guessing you guys will just reject these”) is even worse! Don’t put the R-word in the editor’s mind… and better still, keep it out of yours, too.

5: Thou shalt not be boastful.
Whether it’s in your cover-letter, your bio or your writers’ group meeting… it doesn’t matter how many publications you have to your name. Nobody likes a show-off!

6: Thou shalt not enter into any nasty or aggressively competitive stuff with other poets.
Sadly, the poetry world contains a fair few people who like to see others fail. Please, please don’t be one of them.

7: Thou shalt not question the editor.
Unless they’re unnecessarily rude to you (unlikely, I hope) or you need clarification about something, do not try and question the editor’s decision. Pleading, arguing and mud-slinging are unlikely to change their mind… trust me, I’ve tried!

8: Thou shalt not listen to bad advice.
e.g. “you’re too young to be published” or “I never read the submission guidelines” or “why are you bothering with this? You’ll never get accepted!” People who say such things are best ignored!

9: Thou shalt not ignore feedback from magazine editors.
It’s a rare commodity - use it wisely!

10: Thou shalt not give up.
Don’t let rejection / submission fatigue / writer’s block / negative criticism get you down. Keep writing, editing, improving, submitting. You can do it!

Disagree? Think I’ve missed a commandment? Got your own ideas? Let me know!

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You can also visit Read This Press for more poetry (and typewriter paraphernalia!). Alternatively, check out Edinburgh Vintage, our sister site. If you want to get in touch you can follow OneNightStanzas on Twitter, or email claire[at]onenightstanzas.com. I reply as swiftly as I can!

(Photo credit)

An earlier version of this post appeared at One Night Stanzas in September 2008. Please note, Read This Magazine is no longer an active publication.

One of the most important components of any submission is the cover letter - whether you’re sending a quickly-rattled-off haiku to a low-fi magazine, submitting your best four works to a respected literary journal or posting off a hard-wrought manuscript to a potential publisher. A decent cover letter can make the difference between acceptance and rejection, and because it’s generally the first thing the editor, agent or contest judge sees, it can even make or break the chances of your poems being read at all. The cover letter is a blank canvas upon which you can paint a picture of yourself for your new editor, collaborator, agent or publisher — it’s your chance to show them a little of the personality behind the poems, to tell them you’re different from the million other wannabe poets whose emails they’ve received this week. In short, the cover letter is a powerful tool, and yet a huge number of poets fail to use it to its full potential — in fact, many people just don’t bother with cover letters at all.
Now, you may well be one of the lucky few who has realised the potential of the letter and got your method of composition down to a fine art. But if you’re not, you’re probably wondering exactly how you can make more of this useful writerly tool. Well, as always, ONS is here to help, with a few pointers to get you well on the way to writing the cover letter that could change your life! (Well… maybe.)

1: Be yourself.
This is the #1 rule when it comes to doing just about anything. Poetry is a personal thing — it comes from a sincere place, and so should the covering letter that accompanies it. So don’t show off and big yourself up in your letter if you’re actually a shy and retiring wallflower, for example — if your reader is worth their salt, they’ll be able to sense something fishy. If you’re submitting for the first time ever and you’re unsure about things, say so! Editors are all human beings too (as far as I know!) and chances are, they probably felt the same as you once upon a time. OK, so saying “I’m not sure if this is right or not!” might sound feckless — and some stony recipients may take the opportunity to roll their eyes at your expense — but it’s much better than trying to pretend you’re totally au fait with everything when you’re not.

2: Be polite.
This may seem like a total no-brainer, and it really ought to go without saying, but you’d be shocked by the number of downright rude cover letters that used to land in the Read This Magazine mailbox every month. Comments that could be perceived as rude range from the self-deprecating (”I expect you’ll probably decide that your magazine’s too good for my stuff”) to the plain offensive (”if you reject my poems then f**k you” — a line which, we found, crops up with alarming regularity).
A lot of these comments are probably intended to be tongue-in-cheek, but when all you have to go on is an email, it can be hard to read “f**k you” as anything other than offensive. Basically, there’s nothing more effective than rudeness to make an editor think ‘reject!’, and for this reason, it’s best to keep any wisecracks to a minimum.

3: Don’t criticise your recipient.
Basically, whilst you are by no means required to agree with every rule in a particular magazine’s submission guidelines, or to accept everything a particular publisher stands for, if you want to have your work accepted, it’s probably best to keep your misgivings to yourself. Saying “the way you do X is kind of lame” will not do you any favours. OK, so a good editor shouldn’t let it sway their decision, but it may well sour their mood… right when they’re about to read your poems! For example, when Read This started up, we got a submission from a guy whose cover letter included the line “by the way guys, your website looks kind of amateurish and the colours hurt to look at.” He was probably trying to be helpful, but it made us all a bit upset and annoyed — we’d just spent a load of time and money getting online. When it came to looking at the guy’s work, we were just unable to get warmed up to discussing it. Being impartial is tricky when your first impression of someone is that they’re potentially hostile to what you’re doing!

4: Avoid grandiose statements.
OK, this is my particular pet hate, and Read This used to get it all the time. It ties in with what I said in point one about being dishonest and showing off - there’s nothing worse than a cover letter that’s full of ego! Some perfect examples: “my work has featured in over 200 literary publications worldwide” (sorry, but my immediate response is ’so why haven’t I heard of you?’) and “I have around 700 poems to my name” (being prolific isn’t necessarily good, and certainly doesn’t make an editor more likely to publish you). Sound like any of your cover letters?
It’s easy to fall into the trap of bigging yourself up, because of course you want to make as good an impression as possible. But rather than the sweeping grandiose statements (which can make you look like an egomaniac, or even a bit of a fibber), try being more specific. If you’ve been published in a load of magazines, name three or four of the more ‘respected’ ones. If you don’t know which are the ‘respected’ ones, just name the most recent - that way, instead of thinking “so why haven’t I heard of you?” the editor is more likely to think “I know that magazine - this person must be good!” And rather than stating exactly how many poems you’ve ever written (700 may be a huge achievement for you, but to a stranger it’s just a number), again, try to be more specific. Let the editor know why you write such a lot. Say “I write as often as possible so I can keep growing as a poet,” or “I’ve written a lot of poems about cultural identity, because I feel strongly about it.” Both these statements will make the person at the other end of your submission letter/email much more interested in you, and they also avoid the arrogance factor.

5: Your poems are written with care - your cover letter should be, too!
So that means checking for spelling errors and typos, and writing in full words and sentences. Not all magazines expect you to do the hyper-formal, with-kind-regards-yours-sincerely stuff, but I’d say that 99.9% of magazine staff would be put off by “here r sum poems 4u guys.” It might turn out to be unmerited, but a badly-worded or lazily-spelled cover letter could lead to some doubt about your abilities as a poet!

6: Sign your name.
This is another no-brainer, but Read This constantly received submissions from John and Jane Does who provided NO clues about their identity! I mean, this isn’t a major issue, but it does make for rather awkward replying (”Dear anonymous poet”?). We also had submissions from people who have only supplied “screen names” (see my post on pen names), and even one person who, crazily, wrote a perfectly good cover letter but signed it “who wants to know?” WHAT?!
Basically, just give the editor something to go on. As the pen name article explains, you don’t have to use your real name - just provide something half-sensible that your recipient can use to refer to you… and always make sure you provide a working email address or correct mailing address for replies.

Ever received a cover letter, or proof-read one for a friend, that you think deserves a mention? Was it unbelievably impressive or heinously bad? Do you have any cover letter crimes that you want to own up to?

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You can also visit Read This Press for more poetry (and typewriter paraphernalia!). Alternatively, check out Edinburgh Vintage, our sister site. If you want to get in touch you can follow OneNightStanzas on Twitter, or email claire[at]onenightstanzas.com. I reply as swiftly as I can!

(Photo credit)

Photo by Didrooglie.

An earlier version of this post appeared at One Night Stanzas in September 2008.

What are the eight words no writer ever wants to hear? “We are not using your work this time” of course! Most of us see that sentence and silently translate it to “you’ve been rejected, therefore you suck,” and for some people, that’s enough to throw their writing off track for days, weeks, months or even years.
However, if you want to be a writer, you need to accept that rejection is as much a part of the writing game as inky fingers and writer’s cramp (or, these days, repetitive strain injury). But if you’re still finding the rejection pill hard to swallow, then read on…

Everyone gets rejected.
The first thing you need to realise is that you are absolutely NOT alone in your rejection misery. I don’t think there’s a single writer alive who hasn’t felt the sting of rejection in one form or another - even the most famous, successful and established writer will be able to tell you the tale of their worst rejection experience (or experiences)! Basically, rejection comes with the poetic territory… so don’t allow that nasty, negative voice in your head to do the whole “what’s wrong with you? Everyone else gets accepted” routine. Don’t believe me? Join a writing group, workshop or forum and just mention the R-word… I guarantee that everyone will have a story to tell.

It’s not personal… or it shouldn’t be.
Why is it that your confidence takes a massive nosedive when you hear your work has been rejected? Probably because you make it personal - and don’t get me wrong, that’s not unusual, but it’s also not a good way of dealing with it. It’s important that you realise it isn’t personal - chances are, the rejection has nothing to do with who you are as an individual. The editor hasn’t turned you down because they have a personal vendetta against you, or because they hate young / old / gay / straight / male / female writers like you, or because they could tell from reading your stuff that you sometimes surreptitiously listen to Cliff Richard. And if they DID turn you down for personal reasons, then they’re just a bad editor - no two ways about it - and you’re better off not being associated with their publication. So there!!

It does NOT mean your writing sucks.
There are heaps of factors that can influence an editor’s decision. First and foremost, they have to find pieces that will physically fit into their publication - it might be that your poem exceeded their maximum length, or the formatting was just too tricky for them to work with. And your work also has to “fit” in a more abstract sense… so just because one magazine perhaps doesn’t think your work belongs on their particular pages, that doesn’t mean every zine in the world will turn you down. Reading submission guidelines is really important, because knowing what kind of place you’re submitting to and making sure you follow their rules to the letter can eliminate these possible-rejection factors. You also need to bear in mind that any successful magazine has a rigorous selection process, because only a small percentage of submissions can be accepted. Sometimes, editors are even forced to reject work that they actually really love.

All editors are different…
…and this is important for two reasons. One: there are some editors out there who will reject you for something as minor as a typo, or an uncredited reference to another writer. Others are more forgiving when it comes to the little details, but draw the line at things like an absent cover-letter when they specifically requested one. And there are some editors who’ll forgive you just about anything as long as your poems are good enough - problem is, you just don’t know what kind of editor is on the other end of your submission!
And two: at the end of the day, the editor you’re sending your work to is just another reader - and you can’t expect every single reader to love you, can you? Admittedly, a bigger, more democratic editorial team makes for a better magazine, and so most publications have a kind of “panel” system by which they decide who to accept. Lone editors often have to base their choices on personal taste, which seems unfair, but it’s the way the cookie crumbles. And just because one person - or even a four-person team - didn’t love your work, that doesn’t mean there won’t he heaps of people out there who do!

Rejection is no fun for anyone.
Believe it or not, most editors hate the whole rejection thing as much as you do. Sure, you meet the odd sadistic weirdo who loves to put eager young poets down (I’ve met with one of these so far), but generally - unless someone’s been really annoying, ie, ignored submission guidelines or been rude - sending the rejection letters is considered one of the least fun parts of the job. I used to HATE sending out the Read This rejections, because I know all too well that awful sinking feeling you get when your personal turn-down reaches your mailbox. So take comfort in the fact that, somewhere, there may well be a magazine editor squirming with guilt as they imagine you reading your rejection letter!

Or… you could just do this*:

*Don’t do this.

Your worst rejection? Care to share?

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You can also visit Read This Press for more poetry (and typewriter paraphernalia!). Alternatively, check out Edinburgh Vintage, our sister site. If you want to get in touch you can follow OneNightStanzas on Twitter, or email claire[at]onenightstanzas.com. I reply as swiftly as I can!