Posts Tagged ‘publication’

Featured Poem, ‘Song,’ by Stephen Nelson (also, a review!)

Tuesday, January 29th, 2013

Banjo

Song

1.

Pu oot yer banjo, boy, n strum
at yon fu moon

till ye nip the prood violet’s
wheezy reek

fae teeth n nose n mooth.

2.

Pu oot yer banjo, boy, n pluck
the fucker

till ma hert strings snap n whip
the raw rank erse ae the wirld

wi memory like the putrid seas ae Jupiter.

3.

Pu oot yer banjo, boy -

lazy bam in yer lazy bed wi yer
sweetened songs n yer honey dream rhymes.

Ah wull dance, dammit! - n let the rollin waves
spill oan the frozen shore,
till midnight wirds
ir whisperin tendrils ae shivering
ecstasy nae mair.

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If you’ve been reading this blog for any decent amount of time, you’ll know I love the work of Stephen Nelson. One of the best and most prolific concrete/vispo poets working in Scotland today, Stephen’s been published in a wide variety of places, including the wonderful anthology The Last Vispo, which I’d highly recommend to anyone (especially if you’re not sure what all this vispo fuss is about, but you think you’d like to try it). Most recently, he’s brought out a collection with the wonderful Knives Forks and Spoons Press, who are soon to close their doors — sad times, indeed. But they’ve really gone out with a bang by publishing Lunar Poems for New Religions, a collection which, prior to publication, was shortlisted for the prestigious Crashaw Prize… and I can see why.

Lunar Poems for New Religions is a book inspired by the moon, in every sense. Its second section, Crescent, mimics the rhythm of the lunar cycle, beginning with a very simple concrete piece:

mo( )on

Thereafter, the poems wax and wane. Some are sparse, concrete pieces that use the white space of the page to great effect; interspersed among them are short, prose-style poems that seem lush and full alongside their neighbours. Stephen has arranged — I almost want to say timed — all of this to perfection, though, as it never feels jarring. Rather, it is smooth and organic. And the poems are filled with confident, powerful lines. In ‘Ask Tracey’, for example, I was struck by, “Whenever I touched you who felt the shock but us.”

The first section of the book, The Moon from my Windowless Heart, is a totally different beast. ‘Song’, the poem above, is the first to appear in the section, and it is followed by ‘LOOK UP!’, one long, two-part poem that in places is almost theatrical monologue. This section is in Scots, which I found surprising and wonderful. ‘LOOK UP!’ reminded me very much of poems from the Beat Generation — lines like:

Next mornin up tae tantric storms aboot ma heid,
dark mind clouds explodin brain sparks ae lightnin,
cartoon hero cut fae technicolour dream cloth,
rinsed oot & hung in the sky like a sinkin moon.

The whole collection pulses with a weird and brilliant energy, combining Stephen’s expert knowledge of the page’s potential as shape, as canvas, with strong, rhythmic phrasing and pin-sharp imagery. It’s only January, but I’ll be shocked if I find a more original, enjoyable collection to top it this year. I’m calling my Top Poetry Read of 2013, folks! And you can buy it right here!

(You can — and you really, really should — also visit Stephen’s great blog, afterlights, to see more of his work.)

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Want to see YOUR poem featured on ONS? Read this post first: submission guidelines are at the bottom. Good luck!

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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!

Dear Poetry Newbies: how do you know when you’re ready to send out your work?

Monday, January 28th, 2013

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

A while ago I received an email from an uncertain emerging poet, asking if I could help him figure out whether or not he was ready to start sending his poems out to magazines. As I looked at his stuff, I realised that — although I could see his work definitely had potential — I had no way of knowing either way. Unfortunately, no one else can tell you when it’s time: YOU have to be truly ready before you send your poems out to be seen by readers and editors.
I do realise that this leaves a lot of people frustrated - how do you know when you’re ready? Well, here are some tips. Try these, and then see how you feel about your poetry. Hopefully, it’ll help you reach a decision.

Shelve your work.
A ONS reader happened to mention once that this is something he always does before sending work out for publication, and I think if you’re uncertain about the quality of your stuff, it’s a really good idea. Say you’ve written five new poems that you think would work really well for a magazine, but you’re not really sure if they’re good enough. Print them out or type them up, and hide them away somewhere safe. Stick a reminder in your diary for a date, say, a month or two down the line, and don’t read those poems again until that date. It seems like a long time, but it’s necessary to leave them for that long to make yourself “forget” them. Read them over again, and you’ll see them with totally fresh eyes. You’ll be able to see typos and mistakes more clearly, and you’ll also have a better feeling for lines that work and lines that don’t. Read the poems aloud, and see how they sound. Sit down and edit anything that feels a bit clunky - and don’t be afraid to edit as much as you need to until you’re happy. Also - though it might feel like you’ve wasted a whole load of time - don’t be afraid to chuck the poems in the bin and start all over again if your fresh eyes tell you they’re not all that good. And if you make a rewrite, or any changes that you’re not sure about, repeat the hiding-away process. Yes, it all means that it takes a while for your poems to reach publication stage, but it also means you’re submitting stronger poems which are less likely to be rejected.

Read other people’s work.
This is my standard answer to any poetry-related question: if in doubt, read. In this case, seek out literary journals, creative writing publications and online zines. Don’t just look at the big obvious ones - nose around for little niche websites, small-scale hand-stapled chapbooks and blogs that accept daily poetry submissions from unknowns. Read as many poetry publications as you can get your hands on, and support the ones that publish stuff you like. Check out poems by hugely successful poets, and poets you’ve never heard of before in your life, and don’t be afraid to emulate any of them in your own writing. Pay attention to the kinds of things magazines tend to publish - often you’ll see that patterns emerge. This magazine likes alt-lit-type poems with heaps of pop-culture references, while that one likes traditional poetic form and meter, etc. Read submission guidelines, too - take note of the things editors don’t like to see, and ask yourself: do your poems do any of these things? Paying attention to what magazines like and don’t like, what published poets do and don’t do, can really help you edit your work into a publishable shape. Make a list of any publication you come across that you think might like your work. Once you think you’re ready, start sending your work out to them… and keep reading, always. Keep adding to your list.

Go cliché-spotting!
Something that puts off pretty much all editors is the old cliché. Clichés are so abundant in our everyday speech, so everywhere, that we often slip them into our writing without noticing… I do it, famous poets do it, we all do it. Have a look. Have you put “beady eyes” or “pitch black” or “back of my mind”, or anything else that makes you think ‘I hear that all the time’? Whip it out and put something more imaginative in there… and remember, editors are looking for originality, so don’t be afraid to be a bit wacky.
It’s not just common phrases that constitute clichés, either - you need to be on the lookout for more subtle things. Using terms like “bleeding heart” etc can make your work sound rather ‘emo’ (even if it’s not supposed to be); and to an editor, that can be shorthand for ‘immature.’ If they come across something that makes them think ‘cliché!’, it can make the difference between the ‘yes’ pile and the ‘no’ pile.

Join a workshop.
Workshopping can work wonders on your poems — so often, total strangers see things that you’d never see, no matter how much shelving, reading and editing you do! You get to find out how your work looks to an impartial reader without having to go through the whole submissions process, and having a couple of people in a workshop say “I don’t think this is ready to be sent out” is way less stinging than getting a rejection letter from an editor. Workshops are also a brilliant way of meeting other writers and like-minded people, and you can often do some networking, too. My very first magazine publication came from chatting to someone in a workshop group, for example.
Be careful though: workshop members won’t critique your work in the same way that your friends and family will. Because they don’t know all your foibles, they’ll just give their honest assessment of your work, regardless of your personal feelings. OK, people are seldom rude, but they can be very direct, and if you’re new to the workshopping progress, it might come as a shock. Remember, your workshop group are doing you a favour by saying “this part doesn’t work for me” - they’re giving you feedback which you can use to improve your work. If you do go along to a workshop, don’t let it knock your confidence - be polite, take feedback on board, and offer critique of other people’s work in return. Workshopping is a really beneficial exercise and it can also be loads of fun too… try it!

Seek advice from a pro.
If you’ve got a poem you’re really proud of and you think you want to send it off to a magazine, try asking for the opinion of someone in the know. Perhaps you have a writer-friend who’s had their work published already? Maybe one of your teachers or tutors seems to know their stuff? It might be a bit embarrassing, but try asking them - the worst they can say is “I don’t know”, or “sorry, I’m too busy.” Chances are, they’ll be happy to give your poem a quick read and to give you some feedback… which you should always try to take on board, even if you don’t actually act on it.
You can also send your poetry off for professional critique, but beware! There are a lot of scam artists out there offering critiquing services on creative writing, so be careful who you go to. You almost always have to pay for this kind of thing so first and foremost, make sure you can afford it… and before you send anything, read all the small print (if there is any) and make sure you’re not committing yourself to paying more than you bargained for. If you decide to go ahead with it and pay for critique, make sure you check out the person or company who’s providing the service. If you’re even slightly unsure about it, walk away. The Poetry Society offers a costly but reputable feedback service, for example. Alternatively, you can seek feedback via free sites like deviantART, but beware: the kind of feedback you receive on these sites can sometimes be more harmful than helpful. The best option is undoubtedly to seek advice from someone you trust and respect, if you can… so don’t be shy — ask!

Hopefully these tips will help you to seize the moment when you finally feel ready to publish. The last thing I’d say is: if you’ve tried all these things and you think you’re ready, the don’t be scared; just go for it. Be ready for the rejections, because they’re inevitable, and when you get them, keep going. It doesn’t matter as long as you keep reading, writing, editing and improving. If you do that, you’ll get there eventually! Good luck!

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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!

Dear Poetry Newbies: quit procrastinating!

Monday, January 14th, 2013

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

Procrastination. You know, that thing where re-cataloguing your record collection or washing all the skirting-boards in your house suddenly seems really important? Here’s how to beat it.

1: Start.
When you have a task or tasks that you’re avoiding, for whatever reason, it’s often just the thought of getting started that’s daunting. It may be hard to do, but just sit down, shove everything else out of your mind, and start. Even if you can only write a title, or the first sentence, it’s something… you’ve given yourself something to work from. Get something done; knowing you’ve started can make all the difference, because that task is no longer “to do”, it’s “in progress” instead.

2: Make a timetable.
When I had my PhD thesis to write, I found I couldn’t empty my head of all the other stuff that I “should” be doing — laundry that I’d previously been happy to leave spilling over the top of the washing-basket, sorting out my bank-statements, writing to people I hadn’t been in touch with for years, etc. Of course, none of these things were essential, but my brain wouldn’t let me focus on my essay-writing until I’d removed these distractions. In the end, I made myself a timetable. I wrote up a mental list of all the “other stuff” I needed to do, and then spent a full morning completing these tasks. At 1pm sharp, forced myself to start writing. And eventually, I’d get into it… or maybe I just ran out of “other stuff.”

3: Unplug the internet.
Just about anyone you ask will tell you that the internet is one of the worst distractions there is. It doesn’t just eat into your writing time… all too often it disguises itself as a writing “aid”, so you feel justified in surfing when you should be working. If you’re reading writing blogs or other people’s poems, then surely that’s just research, right? That’s just helping? But you know, deep down, that it’s just not true.
Stop it! Pull the plug! Disconnect your internet… or move to another room, the garden, or anywhere out of range! If you don’t need the internet to do what you’re doing (and chances are, you really don’t), then there’s no reason for it to be accessible. For some people this feels like severing an arm, but try it, and see what a difference it can make!

4: Bitesize it.
As a tutor, I constantly get pupils complaining that they can’t concentrate for long enough to get their revision done properly, and I always send them in the direction of Bitesize. You can browse it by a subject - say, English Lit - and it will break your subject down into its modules: in this case, Reading, Close Reading, Speaking, Writing etc. The students find that it makes their essay-writing and revision sessions so much easier, because they are given managable amounts of work to do at once.
When you find yourself procrastinating, you have to do the same thing. Think about your task. Do you need to write an essay, put together a poem, do some editing? Think about how you could split the task into several smaller tasks. Could you edit a stanza at a time? Write your essay paragraph by paragraph? Doing something slowly is better than doing nothing at all.

5: Don’t go it alone.
You might think that having other people around would be even more distracting, but in fact, working in someone else’s presence can really focus you. Get together, have a cup of tea, talk things over, and then get to work. If someone else is keeping an eye on you, you’re less likely to leap up and say “I think I might just wash the car / clean out the kitchen cupboards / bake a cake” or whatever… and if the other person is working away diligently, you’ll feel the need to keep up. If you can’t concentrate with someone else sitting next to you, or if you can’t find anyone who’s willing to come and work too, just get your partner to look in on you every so often to see if you’re still working, or get a friend to text you for a word-count at the top of each hour. It might feel a bit like being in detention, but it’ll keep you going!

6: Take breaks.
I nag and nag and nag my students constantly about this. Your brain only works at its best for 45 minutes at a time… after that, your concentration starts to flag and the task you’re working on gets less and less of your attention. For that reason, you should only ever work for one full hour maximum before you take a break… and your break should be a proper break, where you set aside at least ten minutes to do something other than the task at hand. Not taking breaks can encourage procrastination, because if you work and work until you’re sick and tired of working, eventually you’re going to get to a point where you walk away from your task and don’t go back to it.

7: Go against your habits.
You may not like working in the evening (or in the morning, afternoon, whenever), but that’s tough luck if your deadline is looming. Your favourite library or internet cafe may be closed, your favourite writing pen might have run out. Deal with it! Don’t let these things become excuses not to complete your task! Procrastination is pressure enough without you placing further limitations on yourself. Even if you do have to work in the evening / in your living room / with a different pen, you’ll be glad you soldiered through once the task is finished!

8: Give yourself an incentive.
For some people, just the idea of getting a project finished is incentive enough. However, telling yourself that “eventually I will have a finished poem” or “some day I will get paid for this commission” or “perhaps this poem will get into a magazine once I edit it” might not be enough to get you worked up to the task. If so, you need some incentive, so think of a way to reward yourself once you’re done. Resolve to treat yourself to a takeaway, a long soak in the bath, a new book or whatever you think will make it all feel a bit more worthwhile. Sit down to work with your reward in mind, and you may well find that you suddenly feel more like putting your nose to the grindstone. No cheating though - don’t let yourself dial for a pizza or step into a bookshop before you’re done. Get the task finished… and then you can mix the relief of finishing with the sweet taste of a celebratory tub of Ben and Jerry’s!

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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)

Dear Poetry Newbies: 10 Poetry Myths You’ll Probably Have Heard

Monday, January 7th, 2013

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)

Guest post: why I don’t give in to submission by Mark Antony Owen

Tuesday, December 18th, 2012

The other day on Twitter I was chatting with Mark about a poem he’s written recently, and he happened to mention that it’s his policy never to send his poems out for publication in magazines. As this is a bit of a break from the usual poetrythink, I was intrigued to find out why… and thought you might be, too. So I invited Mark to write a guest post! Enjoy…

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The thinking goes like this: if you write, you write to be read. And as a poet, I certainly want to be read. So why don’t I submit my work to respected journals and sites? Or rather, having had five poems accepted for publication and only one rejection, why did I stop submitting? My thinking goes like this …

Poetry journals, in print or online, can be a great way for readers to discover new writing, new poets. At their best, they’re a platform for excellence – a filtration system that keeps the ‘bad’ writing from the ‘good’.

But journals can also skew one’s view of a poet or their work – as I discovered by accident.

Having read some print and online journals, I found several poets whose work I admired and whose collections I went on to buy. What was shown of their work was, I found, representative of their style and subject matter. Bottom line? One happy reader/customer. But there were also poets whose output I initially rejected as a result of seeing their work, in isolation, in journals. Poets whose collections I later dipped into in bookshops, only to find I actually quite liked other of their poems.

Frankly, I felt a little bit misled.

Now of course, it would be terribly unfair to journal editors to castigate them for having their own literary preferences and choosing to publish only those works which they deem to have merit. And anyone who reads a particular journal for long enough will surely get to know an editor’s tastes and can then decide whether or not these match their own. But the fact remains that journals can only showcase a poet’s work as a ‘slice’ – at first, anyway. And that slice may not cut it for everyone.

So we come to my reason for not submitting. Is it fear of rejection? Is it fear of the agonising wait for a response that might be a rejection? Is it artistic arrogance? It’s none of these. It’s simply that I don’t believe my own poems stand up well individually. By which, I don’t mean each poem isn’t readable or even rewarding in its own way. I mean that I conceive my poems as details in a larger canvas. Yes, you can appreciate them close up. But I prefer them to be seen within the context of a collection. I just think they work better that way; and it’s completely unreasonable of me to expect them to be seen this way if they’re being published in ones and twos across various journals.

Let me be clear – I’m not knocking (or rejecting) journals. I’m simply saying they’re not for me or my work. At least, not now I’ve found my style and have a broad creative vision for my writing. You might think: ‘If you don’t submit, how will you be read?’ Good question – and one to which I don’t have a good answer. All I know is that I’m not about to give in.

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Mark Antony Owen is a poet who writes exclusively in syllabic metre. His poetry draws on that world where the English countryside bleeds into ordinary suburban living – a world he refers to as ‘subrural’.

Mark builds around details of subrural life to create economical poems; each obeying one of nine self-developed forms or variations on these – his subjects often painted a little darker than they really are.

From autumn 2013, Mark will self-publish ‘Subruria’: a multi-volume collection he describes as part sketchbook, part journal, part memoir.

You can find out more at Mark’s website or follow him on Twitter.

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Want to write a guest post for One Night Stanzas? Email me a short, informal pitch to claire [at] onenightstanzas.com and we’ll talk!
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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)

Dear Poetry Newbies: 10 Commandments! What to AVOID when sending your poetry to magazines.

Monday, December 10th, 2012

Rules

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)

Procrastination Station #117

Friday, December 7th, 2012

Procrastination Station’s been taking a break these past couple of weeks, so here’s a bumper edition of what I’ve been loving online lately!

Embarrassing admission: I never knew E Nesbit was a woman. I also love this poem of hers.

Speaking of poems by women, there’ve been some fantastic ones at the Poetry Foundation recently! Thanks Chris for alerting me to this one by Leigh Stein, and to Freesia for sending me in the direction of Peanut Butter by Eileen Myles. This one by Bernadette Mayer is pretty cool, too!

Are you a Flannery O’Connor fan? If you’re also patient enough to let this F O’C soundboard load, it will MAKE YOUR DAY.

The idea that there is only one right way of doing English – and everyone else is doing it wrong – is inherently flawed. And by “flawed” I mean illogical, elitist and even oppressive. Judgements about what counts as “right”, “good” and “correct” in writing and grammar always – ALWAYS – align with characteristics of the dialects spoken by privileged, mostly wealthy, mostly white people. We make these judgements based on learned biases, as well as a certain emotional attachment to our own way of doing things. But when people study dialects in an objective, scientific way (which is what cunning linguists actually do), they find that low-prestige dialects, such as African-American Vernacular English or Cockney English, have fully-formed grammar rules of their own that make just as much sense as any others. They are perfectly valid and functional forms of communication used by millions of people. The only difference is that they don’t have people running around telling everyone else to do it their way.

This piece on literary privilege is great (and I’m totally a still-recovering grammar Nazi).

This ‘how good is your pronounciation?’ test has been doing the rounds of the internetz forever, but the other day I tried actually reading the whole poem aloud. “Loth” caught me out!

One of my poems from The Mermaid and the Sailors was graciously published by Writers for Libraries. It’s a great project and you should definitely check it out.

The lovely Mandy is featuring my weird and wonderful sister and her wacky advent creations at her blog right now!

If you live in Scotland you should absolutely take this survey, and be part of the Equality Network’s consultation on how to make our fine country better for LGBT*QI folks.

Melissa McEwan is one of my all-time favourite bloggers, and this is a great interview with her.

Oh, I’m sorry, thin people, for exercising in your gleaming anti-fatness temple, but I’ll wear these baggy clothes and stay away from the popular machines so I don’t inconvenience the real exercisers.

Lindy West is awesome. I loved this article of hers on fat people going to the gym. And in related news, the equally awesome Lesley Kinzel writes about how truly terrible shapewear is.

I now want to write EVERYTHING in this font! (Thanks Mandy!)

20 Things Overachievers Like struck a bit too much of a chord with me… (except for the unpaid internship part, because I can’t afford that. Oh, and the working out.)

…and speaking of lists, The 21 Most Awkward Situations In History is really rather amusing.

Things I love: tea, typewriters, and cardigans.

Have you guys seen Barack Obama Being Adorable With Adorable Children? Prepare to smile.

& speaking of which… TERRAPIN RESCUE!

OK, I’ll be honest: I’ve watched this video about ten times. This woman FASCINATES me. Not just because she’s super super hot, has amazing tattoos and basically the cutest laugh-face ever, but also because of what she’s doing with her modelling and her philosophies thereof. I DEFY YOU NOT TO FALL IN LOVE WITH HER JUST A LITTLE BIT.

A little bit of idealism to brighten your day — and I love the narrator’s voice!

This week I went to see the GiftED sculptures on the last leg of their Scotland tour. Find out more in this lovely short film about ‘em!

Paper Sculptures GIFTED Tour 2012 from Blue Iris Films on Vimeo.

When the wonderful Watsky came to Edinburgh for the Watskyx2 gig I hosted, the Scottish Book Trust asked him to read a poem for them. It’s finally online!

I love the Big Bang Theory and want to be Amy Farrah-Fowler’s best friend. Therefore it stands to reason that I love this flashmob the cast and crew did recently!

& finally — have you watched Kilroy Loops yet? TRIPPY AND HILARIOUS.

Have a great weekend!

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You can also visit Read This Press for 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!

Dear Poetry Newbies: writing rules revisited

Monday, December 3rd, 2012


^Because I just love these.

So, lately I’ve taken to digging up some old articles I wrote in the early days of One Night Stanzas and re-posting them here for your reading pleasure (mostly because I have a ton of new readers now who might not have the patience to trawl the archives. Also because — forgive the arrogance — I’ve found myself pleasantly surprised by the quality of some of the stuff I’ve got stowed back there, and reckon it deserves another look). (I’m calling this initiative “Dear Poetry Newbies” — click for all the series so far!) The other day, I went right back to the start and found this post from September 2008. In it, I wrote what my writing rules were… and was pretty shocked at myself, I must say! Some of them I still totally agree with, but others? Let’s just say I’ve learned a lot in four years!

3: No centre-justification, weird indents or funny formatting.
Centre-justification’s fine if it’s what you do, if you like it and reckon there’s a reason for it; I just don’t do it - no idea why. I have been known to use indents, but really not very often. Basically, I think I don’t use funny formatting for two reasons… one, because sometimes other people use it and ruin lovely poems by filling them with white spaces and making them impossible to read (this makes me sad). And two: because I’m too lazy - working out where an indent might ‘work’ is just too much effort, frankly!

OK… I am ashamed. I can’t quite believe I used to be One Of Those People. I’m fairly sure that much of what I meant by “funny formatting” might be better termed “concrete poetry,” a genre of which I am now a massive fan. Reading more widely — and also living with a concrete poet for two years — has taught me that actually, the white space of the page is there to be used. It isn’t just a passive background on which to hang a poem — if you want it to, the negative space around your words can be just as vital to their meaning as the words themselves. I think this “rule” was actually fatigue in disguise — running a tiny magazine, I was sick to death of reading poems where the space was used in all manner of weird ways, just not for any reason or to any particular effect. But note to self: your magazine’s slush pile does not the entire poetry world represent. Cheer up, emo kid!

4: Always ‘finish’ a poem in one sitting.
Obviously I don’t mean finish it - I edit and redraft afterwards. But I like to get the skeleton of a poem down all in one go… I’ve tried writing in ‘bits’ before, and the poems always sound disjointed. I probably should learn how to drop a poem and go back to it, it would save me a lot of anguish!

Nothing shameful about this rule, I’ve just stopped abiding by it. It used to be the only way I could work, but now — happily, I think — I’m getting much more chilled about allowing a piece of writing to shape itself at its own pace. I think that’s been one of the most important things I’ve learned in putting together the creative part of my PhD actually — poems are like people. They all have different personalities, wants, needs, and I should to respect those things.

7: No writing in dialects other than my own.
I wrote a short story not so long ago that was in Scots. I live in Scotland and have done for almost all of my life - I think of myself as Scottish, but I’ve never actually picked up the accent. The story was apparently convincing enough to win quite a big prize, but when I thought I’d have to read it aloud at the prize-giving, I realised that writing in Scots had been a big mistake! Fortunately, I got out of reading it, but I have now learned, and will never write another piece using someone else’s accent!

I’ve come a long way in four years in terms of my attitude towards my own national identity. At the point where I wrote this “rule”, I desperately wanted to call myself a Scot, but felt like a fraud — people were still telling me I was English, I sounded English, I was born in England, shut up you’re English. I felt like I had a big red ‘E’ pinned to me, and I didn’t want it, it didn’t fit me. I hated my stupid turncoat accent. I was in a place where, if people asked me where I was from, I’d say “it’s complicated, don’t ask.”
Now, when people ask me where I’m from I say, Edinburgh (true). When people tell me I sound English, I say I lived down there as a small child and picked up the accent (true). When they point out I was born in England, I tell them that my great-grandmother was Amy Armstrong of theLiddesdale Armstrongs, directly related to Johnie and to Kinmont Willie. I tell them the Scottish/English border was, almost literally, drawn with my ancestors’ blood and entrails. And if that doesn’t work, I say f*ck you, I’m Scottish.
I’m still not sure I’d be 100% happy reading a short story in Teri to a roomful of people, but I feel a long way away from the frightened little poet who wrote this “rule” four years ago. Finding where you belong is no small thing, and re-reading this was a really amazing sign of how far I’ve come in that regard.

10: Do not participate in petty competition or snobbery.
I know a lot poetry-involved people, and I read a lot of the opinions of poetry-involved people, and sadly, some poetry-involved people aren’t very nice. There are a lot of individuals out there who like to bitch about other writers, put down certain types of poets (often young, inexperienced ones, which is horribly unfair), deliberately try to wreck other people’s chances of success and tout their own opinions of what’s “good” and “bad” as the last word in what poetry ought to be. My final - and biggest - rule is this: ignore these people. In fact, don’t just ignore them - boycott them. Don’t read their blogs, don’t buy their books, don’t listen to their rubbish. Don’t let them put you down, and don’t retaliate to them. Often they’re people whose own successes have disappointed them, so just move on and up, and concentrate on your own writing. Don’t fall into the trap of being like this yourself. Don’t speak or write ill of others — help them instead. Turn the poetry community back into a community!

I think I’ve become more chilled and accepting about this stuff — cronyism, snottiness towards newcomers, etc — and I’m now in a literary circle that I’ve carefully cultivated and consciously edited so I don’t have to deal with this sort of shit anymore. I still know of a lot of people in the poetry community who like to curate other people’s responses to poetry, who demand that others explain their opinions and choices to them, who dismiss certain ideas/styles/genres/types of people, who engage in obvious nepotism. I know of them, but I make it my business to not know them. I’ve learned that there’s no such thing as being A Big Cheese In The Poetry Community. People who think they are this, or who aspire to be this, are just kind of funny. I still agree with what I said in this “rule,” but I might re-write it now to put the emphasis less on raging against these people and more on just ignoring them (and maybe giggling at them behind your hands) and getting on with more important business: namely, putting words onto a page. And I mean the page of your personal notebook, not the page of some prestigious journal. It’s the writing that’s the most important thing, not what happens to it after. That stuff’s all just window-dressing.

What are YOUR unwritten poetry rules?

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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)

Featured poem, ‘Fun With Therapy’ by Heather Bell

Tuesday, November 27th, 2012

self-ish

Fun With Therapy

The problem with poets is we like
to sound more interesting than we
are. The poet goes to therapy and says
she has been skinning herself

alive. How interesting! How probable and
dark! The poet writes long letters

to the therapist in which she says

her skills are in high demand, such as

tilting men, finger to head, toppling
them over. Poets like to take it too
far,

disease themselves. No one is ever truly

that lonely, the therapist tells
her. The poet

writes a list of possibilities: tomb
herself into

the house like a pharaoh, disappear. The
moon

is a supermarket, she says. The cat
refuses to come
home. How beautiful and weird! How
humble of

her to acknowledge she has gone off the
deep end,

so early in the game. Here she sees a
sky of clouds in the blot. There she
sees knuckles and a wad of flesh. The
therapist evaluates

the situation like it is a police report:
woman’s face is a tight shiny surface of
worry. Woman’s hands keep moving over
this disappointment. Woman

says she hasn’t told the truth for years
and we have to believe her.

Heather Bell’s work has been published in Rattle, Grasslimb, Barnwood, Poets/Artists, Third Wednesday and many others. She was nominated for the 2009, 2010 and 2011 Pushcart Prize from Rattle and also won the New Letters 2009 Poetry Prize. Heather has also published four books. Any more details can be found here: http://hrbell.wordpress.com

Want to see YOUR poem featured on ONS? Read this post first: submission guidelines are at the bottom. Good luck!

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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)

Procrastination Station #116

Friday, November 9th, 2012


How much do you love this photo? Made me smile.

Check out this visual poem by Stephen Nelson. A good reminder to keep an eye out for weird and wonderful things when we’re out and about!

Hey! I’m reading at Shore Poets this month! Come along…?

Speaking of wonderful things: Regina Green self-published a lovely collection of poems here!

Calling all DIY book-binding enthusiasts! This is the coolest idea!

FOR SOME REASON THERE’S A POSTER OF MATT DAMON IN MY CASKET

WHY I DO NOT KNOW SRSLY THERE’S ALSO SOME INCENSE

IT’S LIKE A SHRINE IN HERE BUT NOT TO ME EXACTLY

The Lovesong of J Alfred Capslock wins all the internets.

I love everything about this photo.

Want to record the things you’re grateful for, the way I do with my TiLT posts? You can download your own Gratitude Journal, FREE, here!

Secret tunnels! Ornate giltwork! Plush armchairs! Real trees growing on the shop floor! Check out the world’s most beautiful bookstores… and be prepared to drool!

Tracey S Rosenberg — who by the way has a book launch happening next week! — is hosting her own National Rejection Letter Month in place of NaNoWriMo.

Caustic Cover Critic investigates yet more rip-off book covers. (although, is also rude about Margaret Atwood. Boo!)

It has been incredible to watch people come together in the wake of this storm, to see neighbors support one another, to have complete strangers ask me in line for the ATM if I am okay, if my family is okay, if my house is okay. A lot of people here are not okay. A lot of people have lost so much, and a lot of people still do not have power or water or homes, and another storm is coming.

The Rejectionist’s short but moving response to Hurricane Sandy is really great.

OMG, this might well be the coolest DIY ever!

I have done almost all of these things. Guess the rest are about to catch up with me! (via)

LOVING this synopsis of The Wizard of Oz.

I’d really like to buy these posters for the college I work at.

My wonderful and talented friend Sally was the official photographer for the Edinburgh International Festival this year. Her photographs of the fest can be viewed at her exhibition, FRAMED, on now at The Hub, Edinburgh. Please do go along!

WIN: Tammy Baldwin (WI) is also one of them, defeating popular Republican Tommy Thompson in the Wisconsin Senate race, making her both Wisconsin’s first female senator and the first openly gay member of the US Senate. Said Baldwin: “I am well aware that I will have the honour to be Wisconsin’s first woman US senator, and I am well aware that I will be the first openly gay member of the United States Senate, but I didn’t run to make history. I ran to make a difference. But in choosing me to tackle those problems the people of Wisconsin have made history.”

Liss has made a great list of the various things that were won on Tuesday night apart from just the Presidency. Makes for some happy reading.

This DIY advent calendar is such a good idea! Especially for us vegans, who can’t easily find chocolate ones in stores!

Gum-voting is a super cool, if slightly gross, idea.

[A]s sex workers we also face deep-seated stigmas which mean that if we don’t disclose to you our stories of tragedy and the demeaning experiences we have faced we run the risk of not being believed by you.

This is what we call “tragedy porn”: A desire in the feminist movement to hear tragic stories of hardship from sex workers, and when we don’t tell them, we face the accusation that we are covering up the “truth” about sex work.

This is brilliant. I wanted to applaud at the end. (You need to scroll down.)

OH THE SCHADENFREUDE! White People Mourning Romney is JUST TOO GOOD!

Having taken a bunch of really quite unfair shit from Etsy buyers lately, I kinda needed this post about running your own business while depressed. (via)

I would like this car, please.


Lovely Boyfriend just got an iPad, which is far too high-tech for me! Might try to persuade him to mod it up with one of these! (Thanks Graeme!)


This is absolutely freaking brilliant. It’s hard to critique education without making teachers feel like crap, so well done Mr Godin!


YAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!

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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)