Patience, Persistence, and the Usefulness of "Bad" Drafts

About 5-6 months ago, I sent a poetry submission to the Poetry Society of New Hampshire for consideration in Touchstone, which is a nicely curated journal that they produce. I've sent things in before, but they have been declined (nicer word than "rejected," I think), but I try every time there is an open call for submissions. The thing that is different about PSNH's approach to submissions is that they require that the work sent in be exclusively theirs to consider--no simultaneous submissions. I can understand that from their point of view; if a piece is picked up elsewhere, then they have to start all over again. However, from the poet's side of things, it's a bit difficult. If you send some of your best stuff to a place that is going to sit on it for 5-6 months, then you can't be trying other journals. 

I got two poems accepted, which is exciting news for me. They are not my "usual" stuff (I'm not sure I have a "usual" anymore--it seems I'm in a growth period in my writing, at least some of the time). I'm glad to have both poems placed, and paradoxically, the "reserve" on the work does make it easier for me, as now I do not have to go through the arduous task of alerting other prospective homes for my poems that they are no longer available. Over dinner last night, I was talking about this conundrum with a poet-friend who said that the way she handles this situation is she never sends things out simultaneously. I don't have that leeway, really. At least I don't think so; I started out that way, but it took forever to get anything placed. And I don't have reams of poems just collecting dust. I'm still a very part-time poet.

That all said, I'm happy to have a couple of poems settling into a new home. As with so many other things, it's a bit of a "numbers game," this sending out work. I'm trying to be a lot more selective about where I send things, but since I don't yet have a chapbook or book in print, I'm still building my publishing CV. I may never get a book out there-- it's very competitive, and sometimes, I really suspect I'm not that good. Or my work is not edgy enough. Or whatever the current trend in publishing is looking for is not what I write. But I keep trying.

Years and years ago, I heard Don Sheehan, the patriarch of The Frost Place (may God keep his soul), talk about publication, and how it is not really the whole point of writing. While to some, this may seem an odd concept, I fully understand and appreciate what he was saying: when we write, it is because we have to. We are impelled forward by an inner need to work stuff out in writing, without an initial thought towards audience. And while this is true in every way that really matters, there is something alluring about putting one's work into the air and having other people accept those words, and know them to be a match for their own. 

I think the difference is this: writing honestly is messy and scary and sometimes only cathartic. That's not "art," in the way that the wider world would see it. It is necessary, and sometimes, from those initial blurts, we can mold them into something more recognizable as art. But the first impulse is from the gut. If the draft is crafted from its inception, it is more likely to be a "crowd pleaser"-- cute rhymes, pedestrian images, tired words. I know-- I've written scads of those, too, mainly because they are safe. And ultimately, they don't go anywhere. Can those drafts be shaken up to find some sort of emotional depth? Maybe. More often than not, in my experience, no. They are like vocal ease or playing scales for musicians. They are warm-up exercises. When I have not written in a while, my first few poems are essentially dreck. I used to be pretty upset that this kept happening, until I recognized that I had to work the rust out somehow, and those drafts were just on-ramps. Keep going.

I hope you have a good day,

C