Thriving but Dying?
Dear Literary Journals,
I'm worried.
My friends and I — poets and writers — are sending mixed signals: We love you. We shun you.
We want to be in your pages, where the cool writers hang, laughing at inside jokes and rolling eyes at the hapless hopefuls. We pine for your validation, the stamp that says "real writer."
Our desire is deep. Each year we send you hundreds of poems and stories. Please like me, we plead. Take my words — and for free! We want you that much. And just like high school, we quickly turn to envy, the sour face of adoration. We compare ourselves to other writers, and then, frustrated with our limitations, deride those we emulate.
But here's the weird and creepy thing. Despite our desire, we don't really read you. Sure, we flip through your pages at AWP (the annual gathering of writers, this year a record 9,500 registered to attend). We'll smile and take free copies. We'll graze your website, but really, we're just looking for the submission guidelines.
We want to be in your circle, but we don't really wanna hang out, don't wanna commit past the first date. No need to lock into something permanent like a subscription.
Frankly, I don't know how you survive. With few of us reading, really reading, and even fewer paying our way, I'm not sure how you find the time, energy and financial means to produce the goods.
And I'm confused. With nearly 3,000 -- that's not a typo, that's three thousand! -- literary journals and magazines published in the U.S., it seems the industry is thriving (as evidenced here, and here). But with so few buying, you're widely unread. So, are you thriving or dying?
Whatever the case, you press on. Cranking out issue after issue, a small fire of hope burns for donations, subscribers, a way to hang on. How do you do it?
And how do we, as writers, want you but not support you? Love you but shun you? How does this circle keep turning?
Sincerely,
Drew
Tuesday, January 31, 2012 at 10:42AM
Reader Comments (9)
Love this, Drew. Absolutely made me smile and made me think!
You said a mouthful there, Drew! The entree' into Literary Writerdom is through those 3000 doors. . . and anyone can create another one. Silly little system. As we have all learned the hard way, the only thing to do is submit.
And thus, Marcanti Clarke Literary Press! There may be 3,000 doors, but when not one will open for good and worthy work, we make our own. We make our own and invite the other uninvited to join us.
It's difficult to admit how right you are. I have been good about supporting poetry presses by purchasing book and chapbook collections, but journal issues have been neglected. I do buy a lot of them, but it's usually from the used bookstore, so it doesn't benefit the publisher. I need to get better about that.
Thanks for responding Sandy, Linnea, Auburn and Shawnte. As you can see, I'm grappling with several issues regarding what Linnea aptly calls our "silly system" -- namely that we aspire to be published in journals that most people — ourselves included! -- don't read. We hold publication to be our mark of credibility but if so few are reading the journals why do we set this as our goal? Just what are we proving when we are published in journals that we covet but don't support?
If a tree falls in a forest . . . If a poem appears in a journal . . .
Perhaps it's about community. . . respecting each other's work. . . respecting our own. Gathering together through a journal, online groups/classes, local folks, wherever two or three poets are gathered together . . . that, and the act of writing, are the proper church of poetry.
Writing a poem is an existential act. Like prayer and other forms of spitting in oceans. It is essentially a hopeful act. Submitting is just that: submitting. You give all power away. "Like it/me" says the poem, and xx% of the time, they do you the courtesy of denying its value-- pronouncing it unsuitable for their venue. This is an extremely punishing way to run a. . . . literary genre hierarchy. Insofar as we wish to share our work with other people-- and many of us do have at least a small fan-base -- selfl-publishing is an increasingly popular option. It's losing its stigma. Lots of very good poets do it. It's cheapi-- under $50 to produce a book that gets listed on amazon (if you can navigate CreateSpace by yourself). Print-on-demand means you/your public pay only per book-- $3-4 per book for under 100 pp.. If you only ever want one copy, that's fine. It makes a lot of sense, and your communities of writers will be glad you did! I would love to have a book of poems by Drew! (Disclaimer: I have not self-published.) (Full disclosure: I have participated in self-publishing projects.) (Full confession: I'm not the techie).
I'm loving your post to "the editors" of all the poetry magazines! Fabulous, funny, and true. Never mind the Oregon publications - WindFall, Cloudbank and etc. It's like, if you don't already have five books published, we're not interested in publishing what you send. When I was an editor for Fireweed: Poetry of Western Oregon, 1989 - 1992, we did quarterly hand-written, individual notes to EVERY person we published or didn't. Sometimes we gave specific feedback on the poems as well. Heck, I submitted poems to a friend/editor/small group writing participant and was told, simply, "No." The gal/guy was clueless! It's hurt my friendship with this person, probably forever.
I've wondered the same, although there are several journals that I really do read. I wish I had time and budget for more. But yes, how do they all survive? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad they do, but I have wondered the same thing.
Molly,
A dedicated journal reader and contributor, you are a model poet.
Really, I mean it.