If you’re interested in poetry and publishing poetry you might enjoy this rant by No Tell Motel publisher Reb Livingston (I’ve excerpted my favorite part):
OA: As an independent publisher through No Tell Books, what is your opinion of the current state of the small press? Why isn’t poetry more marketable, and what can the poet do to make themselves more marketable?
RL: In my neck of the woods, the state of small presses is very good, at least for presses receptive to the new opportunities created by “new media.” The opportunities to become a publisher have vastly increased over the past ten years. Of course, distribution and warehousing can be crushing — and good luck getting into bookstores that are using less and less floor space for books. But the majority of my press’ sales are online and in-person sales. My distribution was arranged by my printer (Lulu.com) with Ingram (who would have never dealt with my teeny press directly). I pay $100 for and ISBN and distribution per book. No warehousing costs or returns because it’s print-on-demand. Bargain.
Poets shouldn’t worry about marketability. If you wanna be marketable, write something people want to read like a novel or memoir. Seriously. Oprah is not inviting you on her show. We turn to poetry because we care about poetry. Poetry isn’t supposed to be marketable. That said, if you want people to read your poetry, first accept the numbers are going to be small and then get off your snobby, prissy ass and promote yourself, your work and (gasp) other poets and *their* work. Don’t expect somebody else to take up your book’s cause. It’s your baby, now be a good mama and nurture that needy little fucker. There’s no correct one way to do it– but generally it involves “making connections” with other poets, it doesn’t *have* to, but generally that’s how it’s going to happen –and I’m not talking about hobnobbing at expensive conferences or enrolling yourself in an MFA program. I’m talking about contributing to the poetry community, what I mentioned above. It’s like complaining about your community and school sucking, but never attending a neighborhood watch, or a PTA meeting, or baking those cupcakes for the bake sale, or buying those girl scout cookies, or voting, or even paying your taxes. Other publishers, reading series curators, reviewers — i.e., other POETS who are already doing the work, they don’t give two craps if you have an MFA, or waited tables at Bread loaf or whatever. They’ll be much more interested in you and giving your work a chance if they see you’re doing your part. Cause guess what? They ain’t cha hos! It’s karma. I’m much more likely to take your kid to school in my carpool, if you feed my cat when I’m away on vacation. It doesn’t guarantee I’ll drive your kid around.I mean he could be the kind of kid who picks his nose and flicks it.If that’s the case, there’s nothing you can do to convince me to let him in my car.
Sometimes I come across poets who explain that they are just *too busy* to contribute anything to the poetry community other than their own very important poems. Yes, they have time to write their own poems, mass submit them and follow up with editors who hold their work a week longer than the submission guidelines stated, but they have other priorities too. They have jobs, children, spouses, schoolwork, household chores, sick parents, dentist appointments –they don’t live in lollipop gardens, cruise around in pumpkin Hummers, like the all the other poets who find time to contribute. It’s my firm opinion that if you do not live in a Lollipop garden and top your vehicle with Cool Whip, you have no right to expect others to promote your poetry on your behalf.
