#79 - Ash Bowen

How often had you sent out The Even Years of Marriage before it was chosen for the 2012 Orphic Prize from Dream Horse Press?

I'm not sure. I've suffered two laptop implosions since 2012, so my records from that time are gone. I completed my MFA in the summer of 2008, and I know that I sent out that version of the manuscript a few times, but that was a very different manuscript that bears little-to-no resemblance to the book you see today. I got serious about revising the manuscript in 2012, and I sent out the revised version in late summer and autumn to three or four contests and three presses. The manuscript was a semi-finalist in one contest and a near-miss at one of the presses. I won the Orphic Prize at the end of December. 

Tell me about the title. Had it always been The Even Years of Marriage? Did it go through any other changes? 

The manuscript went through a bunch of different titles. Originally, it was called gravityANTIgravity, but that was when the book contained some poems that  I ultimately yanked. Corey Marks at the University of North Texas really worked with me and taught me how to view the manuscript as a book and not just a collection of poems. He suggested that I comb the manuscript for phrases that jumped out as potential titles. I poured over the poems in a coffee shop in Denton, Texas, and that phrase seemed to work as a frame for the book.  

It seems like there’s a possible misconception among some poets who are trying to get their first book published: that they must win a contest. Were you concerned about winning a contest at any point? What advice would you give to poets sending their book out now regarding contests versus open reading periods?

At first, I just wanted my book to come out; I didn't care how. But then winning a contest became important because I'd been told a contest win was helpful on the job market. Since I was preparing to go on the market around that time, the contest route seemed the way to go. But these days, I'd be inclined to tell poets to be less concerned about contests and more focused on finding a quality press. Do a lot of research and find out which presses are publishing books that they'd feel honored to have their work sit beside.

What was the process like assembling the book? How many different versions did it go through as you were sending it out?

I won't lie: assembling the book was very difficult. For months my partner would come home to a living room covered with manuscript pages I'd lain out on the floor. She'd find me on my knees, reading the poems aloud to find the poems that resonated against each other. After I'd shuffled and reshuffled the pages about 10,000 times, I enlisted the help of poets Sandy Longhorn and Anthony Robinson, both of whom made useful suggestions about the order and structure.

When I'd been an MFA student at the University of Arkansas, I'd studied under Geoffrey Brock. One day we'd gotten into a discussion about the impulse to arrange books of poems in a way that gave them a narrative arc. I can't speak for Brock now, but at the time, we were both heavily against this.

When I went to the University of North Texas to complete my doctorate, Corey Marks let me see that the way I'd been ordering my poems was hurting my chances of getting the book into print. He convinced me to approach the book's structure in a much different way, and I honestly believe that without his direction, the manuscript would still be sitting on my computer. His input was invaluable to me. He taught me a lot.

How involved were you with the design of the book—interior design, font, cover, etc.? How much work did you do as far as editing the poems from the day you knew the book would be published to its final proofing stage?

I wasn't involved in that aspect of the book—thankfully. I don't really have the patience for that kind of work.  As for editing, J.P. Dancing Bear sent the galleys to me, and those went back and forth a few times. I shuffled the order of a few poems but nothing major. We did drop one poem, as I recall, and replaced it with another. But other than that, we mostly looked at spacing and such. I don't think I touched the poems at all.

Did you suggest or have any input regarding the image that was used on the cover?

Dream Horse Press makes beautiful books, which was one of the reasons I submitted my manuscript to them. When it came time to pick art work, Bear had a strong vision for the book.  He has a lot more experience designing books, so I deferred to him. I've had loads of people tell me how much they love the cover.

Earlier you asked what advice I'd give to other poets, and I'd advise them to try to negotiate some control over the cover art. This might be something a poet might not even think about in the excitement of a press saying it wants to put your work out, but this is something that will certainly come up later. I personally know someone who ruined her relationship with a great press because of disagreements over the cover art for her book.

What about the publication of the actual poems in journals and magazines prior to the book being published? Was there ever a concern for you to have the majority of the poems published before you were sending out your manuscript?

I once read an interview with Cleopatra Mathis where she said she didn't really send poems out much anymore because she knew the poems would eventually come out in a book.  I suppose that I just don't have that kind of confidence.  I wouldn't even consider sending out a manuscript until the poems had been field tested through journal publication (though one of my favorite poems in my book was never able to find a home). Having an acknowledgments page that shows publication in good venues doesn't seem like it would hurt a manuscript when an editor looks at it.

What do you remember about the day when you saw your published book for the first time?

Not much, to be honest.  But I'm not really one to sanctify such moments. Plus, by the time the book arrived, it'd been close to a year since I'd won the contest. I was already deep into a second manuscript, so the book in many ways was like a relic, almost like it was someone else's book.  But don't get me wrong:  I was doing cartwheels on the day that I learned that I had won the book contest. I opened a 20-year-old bottle of scotch that I'd been saving for the occasion. 

If you struck up a conversation next to someone seated on an airplane, and after a few minutes you eventually told them that you were an author who had a book of poetry published, how would you answer their next question: “What’s the book about?”

Honestly, that would never happen.  Aside from my wife and my kids, my family doesn't even know that I have a book, so mentioning to a stranger on a plane that I have a book is hard for me to imagine. But I think I would describe the book as one of loss and regret. There are some moments of levity, but I resisted catharsis. I don't think there is catharsis in real life, which suddenly strikes me as something The Misfit might say in “A Good Man is Hard to Find.”

What have you been doing to promote The Even Years of Marriage, and what have those experiences been like for you?

All of my Facebook friends are tired of hearing about the book. I suppose I'm doing the usual things people with first books do. I'm getting book reviews lined up. I've scheduled readings. But I'm looking for new ways to pimp the book. I had some ideas that involved multimedia, but I'm still fleshing out those ideas. So not much, I suppose. Or not as much as some. I did just start a Tumblr page, ashbowenpoems, to help promote my work. 

The experience has been very positive. I was invited to read as part of the Kraken Reading Series, a fantastic series run by the great Kyle McCord and equally great Trista Edwards. Though I had a terrible cold, I had a great time at that reading. I've also been invited to read at a college back home and I'm reading at the Arkansas Literary Festival. 

What advice do you wish someone had given you before your first book came out?

Probably not to expect too much; that the book isn't really going to change your life all that much.

Are there any new writing projects in the works?

I'm pretty close to having a second manuscript completed. The new poems are different than the poems in The Even Years of Marriage. Two poems in The Baltimore Review are representative of what I'm doing now.  I had a burst of creative energy last April when a friend of mine and I agreed to do the poem-a-day challenge. We swapped poems every day to keep each other honest, and I ended up with 30 solid drafts at the end of the month. Many of those drafts fell together into finished poems pretty quickly, so I was fortunate. I've been writing steadily ever since, but the drafts have taken longer to get to a usable state. One new poem went through 70+ drafts. 

Do you believe that poetry can create change in the world?

Absolutely, or at least your own part of the world. I remember reading Norman Dubie's poem, “The Pennacesse Leper Colony for Women, Cape Cod: 1922,” for the intro creative writing class I took as a sophomore.  A feeling came over me that I've never forgotten.  I tried to express the impact  the poem had on me to my professor, but I couldn't translate the feeling into words. The world changed that day, for me anyway.

*******************************************************************

Ash Bowen lives with his partner and step-children in Alabama where he teaches literature and creative writing at the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa. His work has appeared in New England Review, Blackbird, Best New Poets, Quarterly West, Kenyon Review Online, and elsewhere in print and online.  

******************************************************************* 

#78 - TJ Jarrett

How often had you sent out Ain’t No Grave before it was chosen for publication by New Issues Poetry and Prose in 2012?

I’m happier not knowing how many places I sent my manuscript when I carpet-bombed the universe. It’s generally depressing. Let’s settle with ‘I sent it out lots’ and be done with it.

Tell me about the title. Had it always been Ain’t No Grave? Did it go through any other changes?

In the book’s first incarnation, I called it The Moon Looks Down and Laughs after the Billie Holiday song, but as I was working through it, I thought that the title wasn’t really reflecting the direction of the book. A friend of mine is a musician here in Nashville and invited me to see a show. I protested, but when I got there, I saw Mike Farris & the Roseland Revue sing ‘Ain’t No Grave’—a cover of Sister Rosetta Tharpe. I heard the first few bars, remembered the song and I knew right then that it was the title. Sort of like falling in love.

It seems like there’s a possible misconception among some poets who are trying to get their first book published: that they must win a contest. Were you concerned about winning a contest at any point? What advice would you give to poets sending their book out now regarding contests versus open reading periods?

First: Charlie Sheen has ruined the word ‘winning’ for years to come. Fo’ sho.

I hear it’s completely possible to get a book published without being in a contest. But on the nature of ‘winning’: It feels so good to say that you ‘won’ something that it’s completely understandable that we fall into the trap that a contest is worth winning.  We stop thinking about what kind of press and what kind of books they produce and have the all-consuming quest for ‘a’ book rather than focusing on either writing our best book or finding a press who best matches our needs and will produce their best book as well. So there’s that. There’s also the fact that there are several open reading periods that will also pick up a first manuscript and these shouldn’t be discounted.

But I’ve been lucky: I was runner up (see: not winning) for the New Issues Prize in 2012 and won one of the Crab Orchard Open Poetry Prize slots in 2013. Winning is not the point. Getting the work out at a press you admire and is a good fit for you is. I’ve heard tell of manuscripts that have a push/pull with editors. I’ve not had that at all and have had the most enlightening and constructive interactions with my publishers. If you want, you can call that winning.

I did a lot of complaining while I was writing the book—that it wasn’t picked up fast enough (which means instantaneously in my limbic brain) and that it wasn’t being written fast enough (which is crazy because it came together in about 18 months)—but if I had any real regrets, it’s that when I finally turned it over to my editor, it seemed too fast. I wanted more time.  I always do.

What was the process like assembling the book? How many different versions did it go through as you were sending it out?

Oh, I must have written and rewritten into it at least 3 or 4 times. Not to mention little things here and there that make the book hold together. There were edits into poems that directly spoke to other poems because it could fit into that specific place. That’s the most fun part of the whole damned thing. I wrote both of my books in a bar, so I would just go in there, get all that ambient sound around me and get to work. I still can’t really write a poem without that sound.

NB. I’m trying to write without a bar because I’d like to keep my liver. Even though sometimes I wouldn’t even drink at the bar, I’d still want to be able to write without smelling of smoke and bad decisions. Let’s see how long that lasts. I always seem to crawl back to the bar when I want to get ‘real’ work done.

How involved were you with the design of the book—interior design, font, cover, etc.? Did you suggest or have any input regarding the image that was used on the cover?

New Issues has a design department, so I gave general thoughts on what I wanted and they gave me two covers and I picked one. I said that I wanted the moon in the trees and I got that. Maybe I’m low maintenance about it, but I think they did an incredible job with the cover and within their style guides. Also, Marni Ludwig (the winner of the contest and a production cycle before me) won the war with getting a serif font, so I ended up getting all that I wanted.

What about the publication of the actual poems in journals and magazines prior to the book being published? Was there ever a concern for you to have the majority of the poems published before you were sending out your manuscript?

In the sense that I think that having publications get you closer to writing better poems toward a book, I think publication is a means to get you on your way. I also think that’s the best way toward building public anticipation for a book. I never really thought of publication of poems per se as the measure of a good book. I’m fairly suspicious about using the fact that a poem is published as the only yardstick for whether it belongs to a manuscript.

How much work did you do as far as editing the poems from the day you knew the book would be published to its final proofing stage?

William Olsen told me when we first met about the book that first books are often over edited. He was fairly adamant that I leave the order almost exactly as it was. I did some small tuning of line and a few word choice changes I’d had in my notes, but besides that, I let it roll as I sent it to them initially. Besides copy edits, I wasn’t all that hands on with the text after it was picked up. My second book was the exact opposite. The text that won is considerably different than the text that I sent in for publication. I’d just done an overhaul of the book when they called me. I shipped the book up to Jon Tribble and he was quite gracious about the changes in direction of the book. I think Zion (my second book) is a better book for those changes.

What do you remember about the day when you saw your published book for the first time?

I’d like to say that I had this overwhelming sense of accomplishment, but I just sat at my kitchen table and cried. Because I’m a poet like that and too sensitive to be alive.

   

How has your life been different since your book came out?

I wish I could say it was completely different. I think my book sold me to my (admittedly awesome) new roommate. But really, I still buy my own groceries. I do my own laundry. I mop my own floors. Sometimes I take time off work to do a reading and I get a free meal. But then I’m back to my really dull, murder mystery BBC-a-thon that is my life.

If you struck up a conversation next to someone seated on an airplane, and after a few minutes you eventually told them that you were an author who had a book of poetry published, how would you answer their next question: “What’s the book about?”

I rarely bring it up, because every sonofabitch has a book in them and they all want to talk about it. I’m quite cagey about it, like when I used to go to bars and claim I was an airline stewardess because it was easier than admitting that I’m a software engineer. But when cornered, the synopsis is usually: This is a book about the nadir of race relations between 1880 and 1930 and what a southern black family does to resist and embrace the weight of history. But you know, in verse. The synopsis is true, and maybe the book is about a lot more than that, like death, malice between men, and the burden of the living and memory. But most (if not all) books are about that on some level, no?

What have you been doing to promote Ain’t No Grave, and what have those experiences been like for you?

I am travelling to places where I’ve been invited and doing readings and selling books. I want to do more, but I can’t because well, I have a corporate job and they have needs too. But I do like the fact that my boss and coworkers are always intrigued about the places I go and what I ate and we can chit chat about it. I’ve worked at places where I have to be a Fight Club character about my writing. In contrast, my current life is quite nice.

What advice do you wish someone had given you before your first book came out?

Dear pre-book Tanya:

Don’t sweat the small stuff. Run your own race, your own best time. Spend time with your words and enjoy them. This is your only first book. Don’t be an asshole; listening to the theme song to 8 Mile won’t make it go any faster. You’re not going to want it to go any faster in the long run. Writing a book isn’t about proving anything to anyone. Say what you need to say—no more, no less. There are so many things that are more important than this. Spend more time with your friends. Love them. The words will always be there. Get more sleep. Take care of yourself. Rest. Rest. Rest. Live fully, drink a little less, laugh a little more. Work is work and your overdeveloped sense of responsibility needs to understand limits.

What influence has the book’s publication had on your subsequent writing? Are there any new projects in the works?

I think I get a little bolder with each book I write. I don’t write from the ‘I wonder if I can write a book’ but from the ‘What is the most important thing for me to say’ place. That’s liberating.

Do you believe that poetry can create change in the world?

Poetry rocks MY world. I think there are people to be reached and hearts to be touched and moved by words. 

*******************************************************************
TJ Jarrett is a writer and software developer in Nashville, Tennessee. Her recent work has been published or is forthcoming in African American Review, Boston Review, Beloit Poetry Journal, Boxcar Poetry Review, Callaloo, DIAGRAM, Ninth Letter, Linebreak, Rattle, Southern Poetry Anthology, Third Coast, West Branch and others. She has earned scholarships  from Colrain Manuscript Conference, Sewanee Writer’s Conference and Vermont Studio Center; a fellowship from the Summer Literary Seminars 2012; a runner up for the 2012 Marsh Hawk Poetry Prize and 2012 New Issues Poetry Prize; and her collection The Moon Looks Down and Laughs was selected as a finalist for the 2010 Tampa Review Prize for Poetry.  Her debut collection Ain’t No Grave was published with New Issues Press in the fall of 2013.  Her second collection Zion  (winner of the Crab Orchard Open Competition 2013)  will be published by Southern Illinois University Press in the fall of 2014. Find more at http://www.tjjarrett.com
*******************************************************************