Last year, after submitting to literary journals at a fairly steady rate, I stopped. Partly, I was exhausted. Submitting is relatively easy, though it can be a pain to reformat submission after submission, but mostly it's the waiting. Two days to a rejection with no explanation. Four months to hear from an editor that several readers liked it, but then decided it wasn't for them. Additional work sent to editors who praised a submission, but requested something slightly different, only to take six months to reject it with zero feedback. Sometimes, an editor or readers likes a piece enough to accept it. Sometimes they like a few.
As it turned out, I was just successful enough, so that I only had a handful of poems left, and most of them, even the ones I loved, felt a little stale. Like a marshmallow. Still good for roasting, and sort of pleasant in its chewiness, but not always the best kind. So last year I started going to the Boston Public Library in Copley Square to write, and did not submit at all: I ended the year with a sack of new poems, ready for s'mores (or some other confusing metaphor). Then I began to submit, and racked up a handful of acceptances, usually a combination of fresh and the old, chewy ones.
In just the last week I've had pieces in three fine places. Perhaps you find yourself here, because you found me in one. In any case, thanks to BOAAT Press, Pretty Owl Poetry, and Storyacious for providing homes for my poems, and to Boaat and Storyacious for the nifty illustrations! Paper Darts, who published a few of my pieces a couple years ago, still takes the cake for best accompanying artwork, but I do like when journals provide you with additional stimulation.
Here they are:
BOAAT - Unexpected Delays and Small Comfort
The food court is a desert, undergoing renovations, and the fast food burger chain has run out of Happy Meals. Instead, they are selling Tragedy Meals...
Pretty Owl Poetry - Strange Shores and Memories of Water
A man’s head was filled with water. In summery months it teemed with glittering fish-like thoughts that he’d lure with the subtle bait of meditation...
Storyacious - Lightbringers
They kept their angel chained to a post in the subdivision. Its song was so beautiful, all the birds left town in shame...
Stay tuned for more publications and random musings in October!
As it turned out, I was just successful enough, so that I only had a handful of poems left, and most of them, even the ones I loved, felt a little stale. Like a marshmallow. Still good for roasting, and sort of pleasant in its chewiness, but not always the best kind. So last year I started going to the Boston Public Library in Copley Square to write, and did not submit at all: I ended the year with a sack of new poems, ready for s'mores (or some other confusing metaphor). Then I began to submit, and racked up a handful of acceptances, usually a combination of fresh and the old, chewy ones.
In just the last week I've had pieces in three fine places. Perhaps you find yourself here, because you found me in one. In any case, thanks to BOAAT Press, Pretty Owl Poetry, and Storyacious for providing homes for my poems, and to Boaat and Storyacious for the nifty illustrations! Paper Darts, who published a few of my pieces a couple years ago, still takes the cake for best accompanying artwork, but I do like when journals provide you with additional stimulation.
Here they are:
The food court is a desert, undergoing renovations, and the fast food burger chain has run out of Happy Meals. Instead, they are selling Tragedy Meals...
Pretty Owl Poetry - Strange Shores and Memories of Water
A man’s head was filled with water. In summery months it teemed with glittering fish-like thoughts that he’d lure with the subtle bait of meditation...Storyacious - Lightbringers
They kept their angel chained to a post in the subdivision. Its song was so beautiful, all the birds left town in shame...
Stay tuned for more publications and random musings in October!
