ON SUBMITTING, ON REVISING
Well, the first submissions took flight through the postal service this morning, and having met a small goal, I can justify a status update.
Submission is a bittersweet cocktail consisting of a gamble, a puzzle, some egocentricity, and a little bit of fate, this whole concept of selecting poetry to send for mass (or minute) appeal and publication.
I never said I thought it would be easy.
Select up to three poems.
Submit a manuscript of between 40 and 80 pages.
Select ten poems, then get rid of three of them and select only seven. The poem in the middle of the pile must be folded in half. Twice.
Gather two copies each of one hundred and seven poems. Stand outside on a semi-windy day. Toss them up with wild abandon. Catch eleven to five poems with your left hand and mail them to a stranger who randomly may be moved, angered, brought to tears or orgasm, or who may just as likely yawn and use said poetry as if it were a cloth dosed in chloroform to smother individuals judged undeserving. Don’t forget your entry fee of anywhere between ten and twenty-five (ouch) dollars and a few drops of your blood (duly noted).
But first you’ve got to get through revisions.
Revising: Taking your intelligent, witty, your delectable little children, placing them in a pot over high heat, then transferring the melted bits and pieces into an envelope through a strainer to prevent any remaining cliches or The Borderline Ordinary from being circulated under your name. Under no circumstances include terms such as “heartbreak” or “fingers” or, God help you, “love,” as there are far more creative ways to be expressive. Bonus points if a poem requires no fewer than thirty-one reads to be slightly understood. Never rhyme. Never ever.
Many of the poems here no longer exist in their posted form. Just think. You knew them back when.
Somewhere in all this there’s a poem.
Good luck with all your submissions. I find it hard to “Never rhyme. Never ever”, which is probably why my stuff hardly ever gets picked up. That’s okay, though, because just knowing I’ve got a handful of readers out there of your caliber, makes me happy. P.S. — I find it much easier to revise poems I haven’t seen in a while, especially if they still “talk to me”. Again, good luck.
ht
March 2, 2009 at 12:44 pm
We tend to think “submitting” poems is simply sending writing into be judged by some freak who might or might not “get” us. However, we submit to so much more. We torture ourselves and our words, haunted by precision and conciseness, real pretention and lapsed pretention. We submit to being erased. When you send those words out, you can’t ever get them back.
medicatedlady
March 2, 2009 at 3:00 pm
And the worst thing is to be ignored.
I love the image of the poems flying through the air – Perhaps the ones with the most revisions will have “weight” enough not to be blown to poemdom come (or is poemdom go?)
It’s the same for us visual masochists. The entry fees we beg, borrow and steal go for prizes for others, even if we are rejected. The larger the pool, the greater the chances of drowning unseen.
Very best wishes and luck to you in your brave quest.
Patrice
March 2, 2009 at 5:19 pm
That is funny. The process is such torture that I have completely given up submitting my work. Anyone who wants to can read it anyway. And besides that word ’submit’ makes it very difficult for me. Good luck, hopefully they will see what a fantastic poet you are and you will be crowned in laurels and showered with accolades.
Paul
March 2, 2009 at 6:12 pm
Best of luck, Bryan. You’re probably (even?) better than they’ll make you out to be anyway.
queerlefty
March 3, 2009 at 8:53 am
I shall shamelessly now promote my own post on a related submission reflection.
http://medicatedlady.wordpress.com/2008/10/12/the-inevitable-young-grasshopper/
medicatedlady
March 3, 2009 at 9:06 am
“Bonus points if a poem requires no fewer than thirty-one reads to be slightly understood.”
I knew it.
I admire you for forging through the thicket, Bryan. Still high hopes and wishes for you.
Marcy
March 3, 2009 at 12:57 pm
this is great. you should submit it. no kidding!
art predator
March 3, 2009 at 2:48 pm
Hey, I almost missed your brief appearance! I better subscribe to you so I don’t. I feel your pain, Bryan. On the upside, there’s nothing like getting accepted into a journal that makes you proud.
ScribeGirl
March 3, 2009 at 2:58 pm
It doesnt matter what anyone thinks or does or feels, only you, as your skin gets thicker or it gets ripped off completely leaving every nerve exposed. Thats writing, or as The Jam sings, Thats entertainment.
Welcome to the ranks of the broken, bitter and relentless.
Bindo
bindo
March 3, 2009 at 4:28 pm
Great comments and sentiments, wishing you the best of luck, and yes, this post was ridiculously amusing! In the end, I’m with Bindo, but, remember it’s the exposed nerve that actually feels something!!!
Even if they love it, don’t lose your edge.
Cindy Hanson
March 7, 2009 at 8:38 am
haha half ironic satire, half good advice. Going through this bizarre process myself… Good luck.
peterandthehare
March 10, 2009 at 5:44 am
duotrope.com is a divine invention – I hate mailing things – costs money and paper (though I should start so I can submit more stuff to mags that refuse electronic submissions).
iheartfailure
March 21, 2009 at 3:46 pm