publish a book of poetry

I was trying to figure this site out…I like the idea of tracking submissions online. But I couldn’t figure out how to enter more than one poem at a time for a submission. hmm…

I think some of my poems have a similar theme and might work as a chapbook. If they’re published in a chapbook, does the copyright usually revert to me afterwards, so I can put some of the poems in a larger collection later? I’ve only seen one chapbook contest where they actually spell out that the copyright reverts to the author after publication. Does anybody know?

G. dug out my MFA manuscript from over 15 years ago. I hadn’t hung on to my copy—I was so disgusted with the program and thus the whole endeavor by the time I finished grad school. Luckily, G. hangs on to things.

There are just a few poems in there that I would include in a book-length ms now…and it’s good to have them. Even some of my past published stuff won’t make it in. The new stuff is better: less narcissistic, more accessible, with more to say.

I didn’t even mean to get into it, but yesterday I wound up doing a lot of revising, putting a submission together, and sending it out to a couple of places. Poetry revisions are so much easier than fiction ones…it’s just ridiculous.

hullo. my 1st entry over here, i came through the lovely MissOtter.

i sit here tonight editing my collection of “possibles” for my MFA program’s thesis/manuscript. i’m in my last semester of my low-residency grad prog., and this is my 2nd chapbook length collection i’ve ever compiled. the first was for my college thesis, i called it “the skunk at the garden party.” i am thinking of “assasination brunch(eon)” for this one. teapartyer much?

sorry. a bit lit over here. trying to say, well, my awful (to-me) advisor in undergrad in a never-again repeated rare-moment of complimentary commentary once said very softly under her breath, “well, you’ll have to publish a book of poetry in your lifetime…” in an “of course” tone. and then immediately returned to making me squirm. as if you-must-and-should-will?-be-published was a given, as if i should it any way know that is how she felt about my…ouevre? well.

it’s funny. being published in journals doesn’t appeal as much as it should as a necessary evil of being a certain caliber of poet in this world (i’m sorry is it taboo to talk this bluntly online about this stuff? i do in my real life w/ cohort—writers both very and not-at-all published sorts, desolee)

i think the completion, the thingitude, the solidity of an objet/book appeals as a work of art the most. which is why i don’t feel angsty/troubled about the one day actual published thing (and it being far off/out of my horizon-of-conception of the moment) when i gift and make and sell zines i sew/illustrate of poems. the booklust is sated by that, somehow. so i know it’s not the official nature (fait accompli) of a big publishing company that appeals, i suppose it’s the physical distribution that entices me. and that’s so much easier when you’re not the distributor, maybe?

as jack terricloth of world/inferno friendship society says (i hope i’m not mashing it up here), “success is the ability to go to failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.”

and then some.

Yes, I too would appreciate your advice on how to publish a book of my poetry rather quickly (patience.. I do not have a lot of) and on a budget that to most would not even think be realistic.
I have created a greeting card collection. www.rysloveletters.com
To this day I still am unsure of how I exactly made that happen. I just started one day and did not let up. I was broke, heart broken and fearful. If you have any positive advice I would greatly appreciate it.

It’s called “After Katrina” and it’s on pathetic.org.

http://www.pathetic.org/library/6667

Darkness Falls Upon the Watering hole

The street so dark and dreary the rain falling down nice and steady, when the last I look for one last time the place where my previous life’s memories lay in the rubble and destruction of where my past life has been spent.

The final slam of the wrecking ball takes out this once beautiful place I called home. No longer I will see the flickering neon sign of Pabst Blue Ribbon served here. Many summers nights I spent by the old jukebox putting out those great old tunes of yesteryear.

The smells of Camels and Lucky Strike still lingering in the air as if letting out one last breath of life of this great palace from yesteryear. The Stools all packed away so neatly in the garbage container to be taken away to some land fill far away, I’ll always remember my favorite corner stool where I nursed many a hang overs, from over indulgences of that sweet nectar of Coke and Jack I’d use to nurse myself back to sanity from the madness of the long work weeks past.

The bulldozer just wrecked my favorite booth where I sat in the smoked filled darkness jamming away to good ole rock n roll from the King to the Stones. My old time friends from a long time ago all gone now just like this special watering hole to be locked away in the memories of my mind where they can’t be destroyed.

I hear the last of the crunch and there goes the passageway that led me away each weekend to a fantasy place back in time, like my very own time machine, From the moment you walked it was 1965 back again. My buddy jimmy the bartender would welcome you in and made sure to make all your troubles melt away. The regular players all sitting around as if hosts greeting you in, making you feel like one of the gang.

I can’t take this pain and agony any more but before I walk away I pick up the last reminder of this wonderful sacred place I grew up to call my second home. My favorite old beer tap handle my dear old Pabst Blue Ribbon I’m taking you home causes this is one thing I will never allow to destroy. I will keep it safe and secure locked up in my memories safely in my mind. Where no wrecking ball can destroy the billboard says Quickie Mart coming on this site Spring 2010 I wonder how many fond memories will be made by the future generations standing around the slushy machine, while jamming to elevator music filling the air.

Time to go now so long old friend as the final splinters are scooped away, from this once beautiful friendly social watering hole where my generation once played and grew

It’s out of my hands now… at last! Assuming there are no glitches with the cover production (fingers crossed), the finished books should ship at the end of January. Prepublication orders are already being accepted online. This is exciting. A great way to start the New Year.

Seriously, I should shut up about poetry and start writing – organize all my notes and gather it all up into one ass-kicking, electrifying, and well-illustrated book of what-everyone-can-feel-and-relate-to your 9-5-job this-life-is-so-weird-yet-i’m-havin’-fun-with-it poetics

I’ve almost finished this goal. Writing the poems was the first and hardest part. Organizing them came second, which required omitting many that just weren’t quite good enough. Creating a layout was third and somewhat tedious. Designing the cover came fourth. That was rather fun. Now comes the tricky part… preparing it for actual printing and publication.

As a registered publisher, I already have a block of International Standard Book Numbers (ISBNs) assigned, but I did not have the software for generating the corresponding retail barcodes. Fortunately, I was able to locate a web site that converts any ISBN-10 to an EAN-13 barcode for free. I only wish I had done this sooner. The barcode itself is pretty big and needs to be integrated into the back cover. Need to tweak the design as a result. Almost done. Should be in print next month – a nice way to start the new year.