welcome to my rejection party

The poetry stakes are so low. We make art for our selves and our friends.

I just received another rejection notice. Another MFA program’s literary magazine thanked me for the opportunity to consider my work and noted that while they enjoyed my submission and appreciated my interest in the publication, unfortunately, it didn't fit their needs at this time.  It took over a year to receive this rejection since first submitting three poems back in May 2022, and in that time the poems were included in a self-published chapbook of which I’ve already sold out of copies.

I think I need to go back to an earlier version of myself. The 2016 and before version of me was brave and prolific because I didn't give a fuck and just published my stuff online as much as possible and wasn't super selective about any of it. And it didn’t matter. I still went on book tours. I still got multiple books published with indie presses. I had a lot of fun. Instead of trying and failing to get poems in highly reputed journals that probably want nothing to do with me anyway, I think I need to go back to my roots and just do what I want to do.

The author as a fearless babe in 2016.

Not even saying this as a cope: how many people actually read literary journals? And out of those people, how many are actually going to seek out other works by whatever poet because they happened to enjoy what small selection got published? Outside of getting something in the New Yorker, I don't think literary journals are the pathway to getting more readers. And maybe not even then! But wtf do I know?

The poetry stakes are so low. We make art for our selves and our friends, I feel. That's what matters.

Yesterday I read the new Vanity Fair profile on Caroline Calloway, a writer who doesn’t really seem to write anymore (her book deal was rescinded in 2017 and she’s been talking about publishing a different book since 2020 but has yet to do so) but is very good at generating controversy and is one of those online personalities who I find to be pretty fascinating. There were a few lines in the profile I really enjoyed, but I keep thinking about this one: “It used to be that all the plans she constructed, no matter how pie-in-the-sky, she made happen.” The profiler goes on to mention all of the things Calloway accomplished just by believing in herself, until she seemingly got stuck in a moment in 2017 that she has yet to climb out of.

I think I’m also stuck in a moment, also from 2017, and I’ve been trying to move on. I’ve probably made some headway, but in some ways I am still stuck, still not quite sure of myself, still trying to get over it. Writing a book about it helped a lot, but I’m still not as brave as I used to be before enduring an abusive boyfriend who did his best to destroy my self esteem.

Perhaps I need to give myself some credit. I still do things. I still run

Be About It Press

and publish work by some really talented writers. I just started a new reading series. I’m still working on my own writing. And I have a baby and a family to take care of on top of it all. I’m doing my best, or at least I am trying!

Part of the reason I started Be About It Press in 2010 was so I could publish my own work and publish the work of other similarly minded artists. I knew I wanted to do something literary and didn’t really know anything about publishing or academia or anything so I just started my own thing. I have to remind myself this when I get rejections. It’s not personal, spaces are limited and there are so many submissions to sift through, and I can publish it myself anyway.

And again, how many people are really reading random lit journals besides the people published in them and a scattering of their friends and family? I’m not hating! I only really read journals when a friend has a new piece featured, and I’m most likely only reading their piece. Might as well just publish on your own platform in your own timeframe and interact with your audience directly. I’ll probably end up posting the poems that got rejected on this Substack next week! Why not?

This is a bit of a rambly post but it’s my blog and I’ll do what I want. I initially posted this thought on Facebook and decided to flesh it out on here while my daughter takes her nap. But now I’m hungry and want to make lunch, so I’ll probably just leave it here. I hope you have a great weekend, and if you’re in Philly please come to the very first Bring A Blanket reading in Washington Square Park!