Like many of you, Robert and I will be celebrating Christmas with our families and enjoying other revels over the coming week. Since we're all probably going to be otherwise engaged in various forms of merrymaking, posting at Poetic Asides will be light (if at all).

In the meantime, we wish you a joyful Christmas. And if we don't see you again in 2007, all best wishes for a wonderful 2008.

--Nancy

While I don't want to promise that I'll be doing a lot of poetry reviews and critiques and such, I think it makes sense for me to share good things when I happen upon them. The current "good thing" I just finished reading is Ted Kooser's The Poetry Home Repair Manual (Bison Books).

Without getting into metrics or poetic forms, Kooser gives poets a lot of practical instruction on how to write good poetry that will appeal to an audience. In fact, one of Kooser's stronger points is that every poem should be written written with an audience in mind, whether you're writing a poem for dog owners or people who appreciate jazz.

In this book, he also doesn't waste time giving his thoughts on what poetry is and should be: "Poetry is communication, and every word I've written here subscribes to that belief. Poetry's purpose is to reach other people and to touch their hearts. If a poem doesn't make sense to anybody but its author, nobody but its author will care a whit about it. That doesn't mean that your poems can't be cryptic, or elusive, or ambiguous if that's how you want to write, as long as you keep in mind that there's somebody on the other end of the communication."

For poets looking to get published, that's a very important quote, since publication forces the poet to write for three audiences at once. First, poets should always write to satisfy themselves on some level. Second, poets have to write for an editor or team of editors to get their approval. Third, poets have to write for the readers of the publication in question, because editors can love a poem but still not think it fits with their audience (it does happen). Many poets who struggle to get published early in their careers are only writing for that first audience: themselves (myself included).

Anyway, I can't get to all the great instruction Kooser provides in this slim volume that is a quick and delightful read, but here are some highlights:

• The best explanation of when, why and how to use metaphors and similes I've ever come across
• Advice on submitting to publications
• How to deal with line breaks
• The effects of nouns, verbs, adjectives and adverbs
• And a lot more

Earlier this year, I wrote about a post about epitaphs. At that time, I made the decision to not combine them with elegies.

An elegy is a song of sorrow or mourning--often for someone who has died. However, poets being an especially creative and contrary group have also written elegies for the ends of things, whether a life, a love affair, a great era, a football season, etc.

While there are such things as elegiac couplets and elegiac stanzas, form does not rule an elegy; content is king (or queen) when writing elegies.

*****

Here are some examples:

"Elegy in Present Tense," by Nancy Krygowski

"Elegy Written in a Country Courtyard," by Thomas Gray

*****

Here's some more on elegies:

Wikipedia entry

Academy of American Poets entry

Scanning the poetry news today, I came across "Author reveals his 'secret life' writing poetry," by Lisa Pierce from The Advocate. It's about a poetry event for John Phillip Santos' poetry collection Songs Older Than Any Known Singer (Wings Press).

In the article, Santos says, "Once I moved to New York and began making television shows (the act of writing poetry) became even more private. I was working at CBS News for the first years in New York and it just wasn't something you told your colleagues openly about."

Through the years, I've spoken with many poets who've shared this sentiment where it's okay to be a poet around other poets. But in the everyday life, these same poets are afraid to reveal they're poets around "regular folk" (who may or may not be poets themselves).

I'm often guilty of this myself. In my Clark Kent life, I'm a mild-mannered editor of Writer's Market with two sons and a love of outdoor activities (running, disc golfing, hiking, etc.). But at night, when even crime (or rhyme?) is sleeping, I break out the pen and composition notebook and craft poems with wild abandon as Superman. In the morning, I put my Clark Kent spectacles back on, part my hair in the other direction, and trade in my tights for business casual. If the "regular folk" mention poets or poetry, I usually just give an all-knowing smile without revealing my identity.

Why?!?

Why do poets feel this way? Are poets generally thought of as bad people who should not be around children or small dogs? Are poets considered outcasts who are never invited to social gatherings? I'm pretty sure the answer is no--yet, many poets (myself included, mind you) feel the need to hide their identities around the "regular folk." These are the same "regular folk" most poets lament don't read poetry. Hmmm...

Maybe we should be more open about our identities as poets. Maybe everyone should scrawl that down as a New Year resolution heading into 2008. Put it after reading and writing more poetry past the witching hour.

*****

In the meantime, read this excellent article by Nancy for Writer's Digest magazine: "The 21st Century Poet."

In it, Nancy goes over a survey conducted by the Poetry Foundation and says, "While we should be most concerned with writing poetry, not who we are as poets, I can't help but think more people would read our work if they realized we're right there waiting in the dentist's office, cheering during our kids' soccer games, getting our tires rotated, walking the dog in the park, comparing the prices of canned beans in Aisle 5 and buying a cup of coffee at the convenience store."

Right on!

SPAM prompt line: proverbial fruit cake

Just wanted you all to know that this will be the last SPAM poetry prompt (for a couple of reasons I'll explain later on). I hope you've enjoyed trying them as much as I've enjoyed creating them.

I saved this prompt line especially for the holiday season. I've been intrigued by this line ever since I first saw it last summer. How exactly is a fruitcake "proverbial"? If it referred to the "proverbial unpopular fruitcake" or the "proverbial awful fruitcake," maybe it would make more sense. Not that I could agree; I love fruitcake (when it's good--with quality fruits and nuts and preferably soaked in strong spirits).

I thought of various cakes in Ireland and the UK in which items are baked: charms, coins, etc. Could this fruitcake have little rolled up proverbs baked inside? What would these proverbs say? Imagine such a proverb, what it tells you, how it changes your outlook on your life--and maybe fruitcakes.

Or could "fruitcake" here be politically incorrect slang for a certain type of person? Are these people among your family and friends? Discuss. (I'd say my family is stocked with such fruitcakes, but they'd simply yell, "Hey, pot--meet kettle!")

If none of this excites your creative juices, write about how much you hate--or love--fruitcake. If you knew a fruitcake baker (or are one yourself), use that as your inspiration. If you can work "proverbial" into it somehow, extra points for you!

Enjoy--and have a wonderful holiday season.

--Nancy

More prompts are available here.

...writers start to panic. I love Waldo Jaquith's use of the term "The Angry Letter." As part of my job, I receive many such complaints from writers about not hearing back from a magazine after waiting patiently for a whole month. Maybe they'll be pleased to read Waldo's blog post: "We Are Altogether Too Efficient."

As I raved earlier in this blog, I love VQR's sleek online submission system. It totally threw me for a loop with how efficiently it managed my submission of five poems--automatically notifying my email account that they were received. Even now when I check on the site, my cookies alert the site that I already have five poems currently under review, which five they are, and what the status is.

Hopefully, more journals will go this route. It's easier for the writers, and according to Waldo it's easier for the editors as well.

Last summer Robert bravely confessed that he had once been duped by one of those poetry anthology operations. My confession may be even more shameful for someone who attempts to be a "serious" poet: I was a professional greeting card writer.

I don't mean I wrote and submitted greeting card verses on the side for extra cash. I was on the writing staff of Gibson Greetings for nine years and was Senior Writer by the time Gibson laid off most of its creative staff in a major downsizing in 1999. (Keep in mind that there were only two writers on staff by that time; contract writers contributed a lot of the verses, especially in humor.) I wrote on contract myself for Gibson for another year, and briefly freelanced after that.

To be honest, I considered the greeting card writer position my dream job and had applied several times over the years before I was hired. I'd been working in administrative support in the college advertising department of an educational publisher, maintaining mailing schedules for promotional pieces, proofreading brochures, typing up purchase orders and generating payments, and providing phone back-up for everyone else in the department. The idea of spending the entire day writing seemed too good to be true.

I did like it. I was good at it, too. However, by the end of the first year, I began to yearn to do something of a utilitarian nature, like filing or processing paperwork. Sitting at my desk all day long trying to come up with new ways of saying "Happy Birthday" without using the words "Happy Birthday" became deadening. And my creative juices dried up from writing on demand five days a week. (We received assignments with specifications: For example, a Christmas card for family, eight lines, rhyming, with a gratitude theme and contemporary tone; any number of people in the family, no direct statement of relationship to anyone in the family, a "3" on a warmth scale of 1-5 [meaning no use of terms like "fondly," "warmly," or love]. I usually turned in three verses for each assignment, sometimes with multiple acceptances for that assignment; since I had over 1,500 verses of all lengths and styles accepted for publication, I probably wrote about 2,500 when I was on staff at Gibson.)

I had already published a lot of poetry when I started at Gibson Greetings, and my poetry skills served me well in writing greeting cards. And, yes, writing card verses does take skill. Besides the talent for rhythm and rhyme the traditional cards required, brevity and precision were equally important, especially for the new wave of contemporary greeting cards that companies were publishing in the early 90s: short, conversational prose. It wasn't that these resembled poetry; but they did require a poet's ability to compress message and imagery into a few carefully chosen words.  

One of the most common "doesn't want" statements I see in Poet's Market listings is "Doesn't want greeting card verse." I know just what kind of poetry the editors are citing because Gibson editors saw the same kind of work submitted for greeting cards. "All my friends love my poetry," the cover letter would read, "and they say my poems would make wonderful greeting cards."

Well, no, they wouldn't. Except for verse by writers like Helen Steiner Rice, whose lines are used as "featured quotes" on the covers of traditional and religious cards, greeting cards require a "me-to-you" message, even if it's subtle and implied. So many of the poems submitted to card editors, besides being badly written, were often all about the writer's view of the world, whether it was a description of a fall scene or perspectives on aging with grace. A poem might go on and on about spring as a season of joy and rebirth but never get around to saying "Happy Easter" to the card recipient.

Greeting card editors want quality for their "publications" as well; and they get worn down by having to wade through badly written poems with clunking rhythm and ay-oo singsong rhymes. It would probably come as a shock to most magazine poetry editors that they have more in common with greeting card editors than they could ever imagine (or want to admit).

What was the biggest downside to my long tenure writing greeting card verses? The primary detriment was the blow to my creativity. The more I wrote verses (and I had to produce daily), the less poetry I wrote. I've never entirely recovered. I don't find the joy in sitting down to tackle a poem that I once did. I resist even pursuing a few lines of inspiration jotted down in a notebook. Sometimes a poet can express herself so much that she winds up not being motivated to express herself at all, regardless of the style or venue.

The second blow to my poetic ability: I find it difficult not to produce formal poetry that sounds too smoothly metrical, too carefully rhymed. These poems don't resemble the greeting card verse that poetry editors warn against so much as they seem as overly polished as card verses. They're too clean, their veneer too spotless and shiny. Even a serious sonnet winds up with a patina of what could be defined as glibness (to me, anyhow). I liked my attempts at formal poetry better when I wasn't so practiced in assembling rhymed, metered lines.

I haven't written cards for several years now, except for brief messages in handmade cards. (Funny that I rarely buy a commercial greeting card any more. Maybe it's because I go into "professional" mode as soon as I step up to the card racks, evaluating everything I read and automatically brainstorming for verses of my own that I don't even need to write.) Over time, I may be able to refine my skills in formal verse. In the meantime, I sympathize with editors who cry "No greeting card verse!" but I balk at the implication that actual greeting card verses are always without craft or technique. I know better.

--Nancy

Friday I started sending out magazine/journal verifications for the 2009 edition of Poet's Market. Monday I sent out four more sections' worth of listings, and Tuesday I finished up with the Contest & Awards verifications.

This is my eighth edition as editor of Poet's Market. After all this time, I still feel an enormous flood of gratitude when I see the approved and corrected verifications pouring back to my e-mail in box. These editors, publishers, directors of conferences and contests, presidents of organizations--they choose to list in our directory. There are many that choose not to. Sometimes it's because their publishing ventures have closed, or because they get too many submissions as a result of a Poet's Market listing, or because there's simply no benefit to them for listing in our book. Whatever their reasons, I respect them, and I salute their endeavors. However, that just makes me that much more thankful for those who do want to be part of Poet's Market.

In my cover letter for this year's verification mailings, I requested that any edits be set off in some way (all caps, brackets, strikethrough fonts, whatever) so I don't accidentally overlook some important change in information. I'm floored with how conscientious and helpful editors are being. Many are going above and beyond the basics. Some highlight changes in colored type, others provide numerated lists of edits in addition to their bracketed alterations in the listing; and still others apologize because they had to make so many edits, and then carefully explain them.

Everyone, you have my gratitude for your help in making my job easier.

In addition, I so appreciate the comments editors have been adding to their e-mails. "Thank you for your hard work." "You provide a wonderful service, thank you." "Thanks so much for including us." It sets me back in my seat when I read messages like that, and I keep these words in mind when the production cycle gets really stressful and I start wondering, "Why am I doing this?"

Of course, I don't mean to give short shrift to Poet's Market readers. Yes, I am eternally grateful to and for you. When I hear from a poet (by letter, e-mail, phone, or in person) that Poet's Market really helped them, it makes my day. In the publishing world, books (especially utilitarian ones) are so easily regarded as "products." It's easy to lose sight of the human dimension, something I work hard to avoid. I was a Poet's Market reader long before I became editor, and I haven't forgotten what it was like to study market listings, hoping this would be the magazine that would publish my work. Readers, I am you, and I always will be.

While I'm on the subject of gratitude, I have to mention my blogging partner, Robert Brewer. If you visit this blog often, you know Robert is constantly posting something of interest--news, market updates, poetry forms, and his own tales of going through the submission drill. He is one of you as well. (And he invited me to participate in Poetic Asides with him. Thanks for that, Robert!)

Hope all of you have a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday--with lots to be thankful for.

--Nancy

Apparently, I started shooting off my mouth too early about giving thanks and how I might not be posting the rest of the week. Who knows? I might be posting like mad this week as I won't have any work to keep me occupied (though that's not quite true, but I digress).

Point is, Nancy Parish forwarded this neat little story about movies based off poems (as opposed to short stories or novels). Very, very cool. And another thing for which to be thankful.

SPAM prompt line: I suspect she is far away from here by now.

We're heading into Thanksgiving week, when lots of people will be traveling. I thought of that when I saw this SPAM line, which has a wistful sense of missing someone.

Think back to a time of departure, when someone was traveling out of your life, either temporarily or for good. The someone doesn't have to be female, and it doesn't have to be at Thanksgiving or any other holiday. The point is to evoke and explore that sense of distance.

And just because I read "wistful" into "I suspect she is far away from here by now" doesn't mean you have to. Maybe she's far away from her by now--with your wallet. Or he's far away from here by now, and you're feeling the heady rush of freedom as you begin to reclaim your life. Distance is the only constant. Whether that distance is liberating, devastating, or makes your heart grow fonder is up to you.

You can work the SPAM line into your poem or not; that's your choice. Length, form, and style are open.

By the way, there won't be a Friday SPAM poetry prompt #1123 next week because of the holiday. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

--Nancy

You can find more poetry prompts here.