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