Excellent post. Decades ago (and I mean 1980) I gave up a very particular expectation of myself that was embedded with restriction and rules that always—ALWAYS—failed. When I let that go, I found freedom in SO many significant areas of life. For me, the gentle and yet serious expectation that I do my best to work at my creativity each day is what is helpful. I have no idea how many submissions I do a year, but in the time it would take me to count, I could probably send out at least one more batch of poems. I like the expectation and yet freedom of my serious but flexible attitude; it works well for me.
Regarding time for submissions: (fast forward 3 decades) the rules of writing and submitting (which I'd never learned in my then fancy B.A. in creative writing) in an area I was not yet skilled (writing for children) and the desire for and goal of publication controlled my work and learning for over a decade. Around 2012, when publishers began the "no response is our response" response, it was too much to take. I'd taught myself to be resilient with rejections; I had many, many "close calls" for publication (and had had a few stories in magazines); but the lack of response was new and seriously emotionally hurtful. I quit submitting and focused on writing. I was able to put the longing for publication on a back burner, and my writing, ability to self-edit, and choices of content flourished. Even a few years later, when a particular judge for a contest made me take my novel in verse out of hiding, and I began submitting again, that whole aspect stayed out of my creative life. And there it has stayed, still. I'm the queen of submitting—I do it (now as children's poet and author, and poet for adults) virtually every day in the afternoons or evenings. But I write in the morning, whether it's a poem, a draft, or even scribbles for ideas of a new poem or picture book/board book text.
I need and want joy in the creative process—that means, for me, focusing on creating something and revising it until it delights me, creates the emotion I want to share. Then I think about submitting it—in the afternoon.
I am not a member of the 100 rejections club. But I do get 100s of “rejections” a year. I try to match my submissions to journals’ aesthetics but I also realize it’s both a numbers game and a crap shoot as to who pulls my work from the slush pile. (A 20 something is less likely to resonate w a poem about geezer love!)
But I do like getting my work out there in widely read outlets. It broadens the community of poets i’m in conversation with - and, yes, I do like poetry community/conversation with poets I admire. It has been juice for my writing.
I never latch on to 100 submissions, or poem-a day-in April. Writing is a joyous pursuit, getting words right, one by one. Find the presses where you fit. I feel a tingle of joy with a pen in my hand and a blank sheet of paper.
Wow. Thank you. This is an extended extensive balm.
I write because it’s a way of seeing. And focusing, or refocusing. The frenzy to publish has to sit at some distance from that, lest it define -- everything!
Learning the craft is learning to see.
I am always reading, looking at journals, looking at where I might fit. But the publishing but- I find it needs its own space, separate in time and intention. I’ve learned to set a goal of three hours once a month (define the day or I’ll avoid it!) to gather poems into “packets” and line up journals or presses I like with currently open submissions. I try to have at least 3 packets (groups of 3-5 poems) and send each packet out to 2-3 journals. Monthly, that keeps balls in the air at all times, and keeps my focus off the po-biz of publishing for the rest of the month. Whew.
Excellent post. Decades ago (and I mean 1980) I gave up a very particular expectation of myself that was embedded with restriction and rules that always—ALWAYS—failed. When I let that go, I found freedom in SO many significant areas of life. For me, the gentle and yet serious expectation that I do my best to work at my creativity each day is what is helpful. I have no idea how many submissions I do a year, but in the time it would take me to count, I could probably send out at least one more batch of poems. I like the expectation and yet freedom of my serious but flexible attitude; it works well for me.
Regarding time for submissions: (fast forward 3 decades) the rules of writing and submitting (which I'd never learned in my then fancy B.A. in creative writing) in an area I was not yet skilled (writing for children) and the desire for and goal of publication controlled my work and learning for over a decade. Around 2012, when publishers began the "no response is our response" response, it was too much to take. I'd taught myself to be resilient with rejections; I had many, many "close calls" for publication (and had had a few stories in magazines); but the lack of response was new and seriously emotionally hurtful. I quit submitting and focused on writing. I was able to put the longing for publication on a back burner, and my writing, ability to self-edit, and choices of content flourished. Even a few years later, when a particular judge for a contest made me take my novel in verse out of hiding, and I began submitting again, that whole aspect stayed out of my creative life. And there it has stayed, still. I'm the queen of submitting—I do it (now as children's poet and author, and poet for adults) virtually every day in the afternoons or evenings. But I write in the morning, whether it's a poem, a draft, or even scribbles for ideas of a new poem or picture book/board book text.
I need and want joy in the creative process—that means, for me, focusing on creating something and revising it until it delights me, creates the emotion I want to share. Then I think about submitting it—in the afternoon.
Wow, thank you so much for this thorough and thoughtful response!
I am not a member of the 100 rejections club. But I do get 100s of “rejections” a year. I try to match my submissions to journals’ aesthetics but I also realize it’s both a numbers game and a crap shoot as to who pulls my work from the slush pile. (A 20 something is less likely to resonate w a poem about geezer love!)
But I do like getting my work out there in widely read outlets. It broadens the community of poets i’m in conversation with - and, yes, I do like poetry community/conversation with poets I admire. It has been juice for my writing.
I never latch on to 100 submissions, or poem-a day-in April. Writing is a joyous pursuit, getting words right, one by one. Find the presses where you fit. I feel a tingle of joy with a pen in my hand and a blank sheet of paper.
Wow. Thank you. This is an extended extensive balm.
I write because it’s a way of seeing. And focusing, or refocusing. The frenzy to publish has to sit at some distance from that, lest it define -- everything!
Learning the craft is learning to see.
I am always reading, looking at journals, looking at where I might fit. But the publishing but- I find it needs its own space, separate in time and intention. I’ve learned to set a goal of three hours once a month (define the day or I’ll avoid it!) to gather poems into “packets” and line up journals or presses I like with currently open submissions. I try to have at least 3 packets (groups of 3-5 poems) and send each packet out to 2-3 journals. Monthly, that keeps balls in the air at all times, and keeps my focus off the po-biz of publishing for the rest of the month. Whew.