PurpleCar

I am a member of the poetry review board for Philadelphia Stories, a print and on-line fiction and poetry quarterly journal here in my area (please submit your work! See guidelines here). Last night was our review meeting for the Winter quarter. Our task is to sort through hundreds of submissions and narrow the list down to three poems that will be printed in the next issue.

Going over mass quantities of poetry in a review group allows for brutal honesty and sometimes hilarious moments. As a review board, we take our jobs and the submissions very seriously (these are authors’ sacred works of art), but when some writers have not bothered to re-read and revise their work before submitting, we have to giggle at the sometimes terrible results.

Because reading such poorly done poetry can cause a person physical pain, joking declarations help us lift our spirits. Yesterday, one reviewer kidded that she would never accept a poem for publication that had the word “kittens” in it. There’s a bit of sanity in this statement, as the cute cuddly image of kittens tends to be a bit melodramatic for professional-level poetry, but obviously there are no banned words in poetry submissions, not for Philadelphia Stories or other legit literary magazines; nonetheless it was a very funny moment.

Being the sarcastic stinker I am, I then started making a BANNED WORDS list. In big capital letters on my review list I wrote, “NO POEMS WITH:” Underneath this foreboding title I began to accumulate words. Number 1 on the list: Kittens! As the night went on, almost every reviewer (it’s a large member board) added a word to the list: 2. Roses; 3. Amnesia; 4. White trumpets (as per describing lilies); 5. Wonder; 6. Wander; 7. Breathless; and 8. Hasten. I’m sure the list will grow at the Spring meeting.

I may construct a poem using all of these words just to give the board a laugh, something like, “The kittens hastened/ breathlessly home / after wandering through roses, through /white trumpet lilies / filled with wonder / amnesia sets in as they sleep / so they will wander / again in the morning. (BLECH!) Give it a try and see if you can come up with something worse. We’ll have a “horrid, gut-choking, spine-wrenchingly bad poetry” contest on PurpleCar. Perhaps we can submit the winner to the Wergle Flomp contest.

As I said, poems are art, and they deserve your care and attention. In the back of this month’s issue of The Writer magazine, former U.S. poet laureate Donald Hall says that he revises his poems at least 50 times before they are finished, one poem going through more than 400 drafts! This seems extreme, but this man has had a long and successful career as a poet. Revise at least once or twice, and don’t ever be shy about sending out your work. Just do yourself and us lowly reviewers a favor: be sure that it is really the best art you can produce.

Looking forward to your bad submissions here and your great ones at PhiladelphiaStories.org!

Writing is an art. Time-worn cliches about suffering for art aside, as writers, our particular brand of suffering is twofold: being misunderstood and fighting against the clock. Writing isn’t seen as an art by the general public. When someone uses paint and canvas, she is easily identified as an artist. The word “serious” is tacked onto “artist” to connote a painter who sells their work or has reached a minimum level of critical notice. When we call ourselves writers, people “write us off” unless we can spout out a long list of glossy publishing credits, three best sellers and a prize-winning book of poetry. It’s as if writing isn’t permitted to be classified as a legitimate pastime. If you write, people think you must do it for money. If you haven’t earned any money (or at the very minimum, a publishing credit) you’re a hack wasting your time. Poets especially garner the disdain of the “show me the money” public.

As if bad image wasn’t enough, writers fight against time. We can never have enough. The overwhelming majority of writers have other jobs and families that deservingly demand their time. Any artist must be a personal time management/development genious by knowing where the line is between obligations to others and obligations to yourself. Second, any artist must be more disciplined than cloistered nun. When life gets in the way of writing, our judgment in these two vital areas gets clouded. Am I being a bad mother if I send my child to a babysitter so I have time to write? Forget time! How much money should I spend on this? Is it a hobby or am I looking to publish and switch careers?

Today, like everyday, I am juggling many obligations and desires at once. My social media habits of Twittering and IM are (important!) distractions enough. Pile on top the desire to get some journalism bylines and a lucky offer of an on-line article, then throw in some Saturday family time and the need to actually eat, you wind up with a measly 198 words of fiction for the day. Today I’ll catch up, but I’m still under deadline for that potential article (I’ll post a link if it happens -I’m very excited about it). I’ll have to make some decisions on how to spend my precious writing time.

We suffer for our art, just like every artist or artisan in any medium since the beginning of time. It is the human condition. It is part of what makes art profound, what makes it necessary for us to have as a species. As an artist, you have a talent for insight into human behavior that others don’t have. Use it, cultivate it, legitimize it. I give you permission right now to say “I’m a writer.” The only thing you have to do to fulfill that promise is to sit down and write. You are allowed to take time to do that. Write for your future generations. For the world. But most importantly, for yourself. Writers write. Do it today.

I’m on track for 1667 words a day. A revelation hit me this morning when I was dreading finishing the scene I started yesterday: If you dread writing it, readers will dread reading it; They won’t read past the boring section. So spice it up, write whatever crazy thing comes to your head.

I have the basic plot of the novel figured out. Subplots are missing. You are welcome to read my attempt at subplot in what I wrote today and yesterday (remember, it is UNEDITED 1st draft and stream-of-consciousness Nanowrimo writing, so don’t expect much):

Nanowrimo2007Excerpt.rtf

Enjoy.

Peace!

-PC

Today, November 1st, is the beginning of National Novel Writing Month. Grab your writing media and get to work. You must write about 1667 words each day to achieve 50K by midnight, November 30. There are plenty of forums, etc. to get you motivated, but don’t get too distracted. Just write, write, write. Which is what I’m going to start doing right now! Good luck everyone!