How often had you sent out Beasts of the Hill before it was chosen for the 2011 FIELD Poetry Prize?
I began sending out a
version years before it was published—it was a finalist for a contest as early
as 2004. But the manuscript has changed drastically since them, and I think it
was fortunate that earlier version wasn’t picked up by anyone—I’m much happier
with what it became. In its final form, Beasts
of the Hill circulated for about two years before it was chosen for the
FIELD Prize.
Tell me about the title. Had it always been Beasts of the Hill? Did it go through
any other changes?
The earlier version was
called Dogs of Indiana, which was
also the title of one of the poems. I abandoned it when I cut that poem from the
manuscript. Beasts of the Hill comes
from a poem I love, Theodore Roethke’s “In a Dark Time”: “I live between the
heron and the wren / Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.”
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?
When I started thinking
about publishing a book, it seemed like contests were virtually the only to get
a first book published. Even now, a lot of publishers still won’t look at first
books. But I sent to open reading periods when it was an option. My rule was,
will I be proud to see my name on a book from that press. If the answer was
yes, I sent to them, regardless of the editorial system.
What was the process like assembling the book? How
many different versions did it go through as you were sending it out?
This book began as my MFA
thesis, but only about three poems from the thesis remain. Over the years I
took out poems I thought were weak, or ones that didn’t fit thematically or
stylistically with the rest of the book. Sometimes I think I would have been
better off burning the thesis—I see now it was apprentice work—and starting
over. But I’m happy with the result. It just took a long time.
How involved were you with the design of the
book—interior design, font, cover, etc.?
My father-in-law is a
painter and the image on the cover is his. I showed it to Oberlin and they
liked it. Their book designer designed the final cover and did all the interior
design, which was tricky because of the weird formatting of some of the poems
(four square blocks of prose arranged in a larger square, like a crossroads, or
a four-pane window).
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 think it helps to have
a solid-looking acknowledgements page—it let’s first readers know
the poems have been
appreciated by magazine editors, but no one’s going to publish a book based on
the tastes of other editors. I’ve seen excellent books published with very
short acknowledgements pages. Since this book took a while to find a home,
quite a few of the poems were published in magazines before it came out. I
don’t know if had any influences on the editors at Oberlin or not.
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?
Actually very little. My
editors had some suggestions, which I took, and there were some minor things I
changed, but I’d already been over the manuscript with a fine-tooth comb by
that point, so most of it stayed pretty much the same.
What do you remember about the day when you saw
your published book for the first time?
Joy. I ripped open that
box of books and just stared for a while. Also relief that it actually
happened.
How has your life been different since your book
came out?
I’m better able to take
genuine pleasure from other people’s successes, which is good. Resenting other
people’s achievements isn’t healthy, and in a small group like the poetry
community, it’s deadly. Oscar Wilde summed up this attitude when he said, “It’s
not enough that I succeed; my friends must also fail.” For a while there I felt
like I was the last writer I knew without a published book and that was a
frustrating feeling.
I also have an easier
time imagining people actually reading the poems I’m writing now, which makes
it harder to write in a way, but also gives me a greater sense of urgency.
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’d peek at whatever they
were reading, then say the book was about a) the zombie apocalypse, b) a band
of child warriors forced to fight for their freedom, or c) the American Civil
War, depending on the book they were holding.
Or I’d say it was about
love and death, and let my seatmate turn gracefully back to fiddling with his
or her electronic device.
What have you been doing to promote Beasts of the Hill, and what have those
experiences been like for you?
I’m not much of a social
media person, which I know is how you’re supposed to promote your work these
days. Instead I did a lot of readings the year after the book came out. I met
lots of cool people, caught up with old friends, and generally had a blast. It
was amazing and encouraging to see enthusiastic audiences for poetry in so many
far-flung places.
What advice do you wish someone had given you
before your first book came out?
I’ve heard (and given)
all the advice, and all of it is true and none of it means anything. If writing
matters to you, write. Don’t worry too much about the rest. Of course it
probably would take a lifetime of Buddhist training to not worry about the
rest, but try. For a lengthier explanation of my thoughts on this, see here.
What influence has the book’s publication had on
your subsequent writing? Are there any new projects in the works?
I’m just finishing up
another poetry manuscript, and I have a nonfiction project in the works. I’m
not sure having the book published has affected my writing much, but working on
it all those years certainly has.
Do you believe that poetry can create change in
the world?
Yes and no.
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Mark Neely’s first book, Beasts of the Hill, won the FIELD Poetry
Prize. He is also the author of a chapbook, Four
of a Kind, from Concrete Wolf Press. His poems have appeared in Gulf Coast, Indiana Review, Barrow Street,
Boulevard, and elsewhere. You can find out more about him at www.markneely.com
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