I took some time off of writing, and submitting, and publishing. Not that I really meant to, but moving, and searching for a job, and then getting the job, and home improvement projects, and well, life gets busy. And before I knew it months, or if I am being honest, years passed where I barely did anything more than write ideas in my notebook and publish music reviews.
So now, I find myself years after getting my first poem from my collection published, without a published manuscript. Researching and querying is exhausting. The presses that I love and know about are too large for a first time author and the indie presses seem to start and fold quicker than I can find out about them. And to top it all off I write poetry, which narrows all those options from the start, let alone free verse poetry about punk rock kids that really embraces the white space of a page.
Some times I am just defeated from the beginning. I dream of what it might be like to have a literary agent. Come on, why can’t poets get literary agents. (I know, I know. There is no market.)
Let’s convince the world that poetry is cool. That it is not stuffy. That there is so much more than they shoved down our throats in high school. Overthrow Shakespeare. Raise up Bukowski. Ginsberg. Addonizio.
All we need is some whiskey and a good marketing campaign.
Anyway, I am back.
I am submitting.
I am running this blog as if there are readers.