#48 - Jeremy Halinen

How often had you sent out What Other Choice before it was chosen as the winner of the 2010 Exquisite Disarray First Book Poetry Contest?

I didn’t keep perfect records, but from what I can tell from those I did keep, I sent out earlier versions of the manuscript at least 17 times, primarily to other first book contests, nine times in 2008, seven times in 2009, and one time in 2010. One of those earlier, less-polished versions of what eventually became What Other Choice, a manuscript entitled “Hardly Planet Yet,” was a finalist for one of the earlier contests I entered: the inaugural (2009) White Crane / James White Poetry Prize (a biennial poetry prize established by the White Crane Institute in collaboration with Phil Willkie to honor gay male poetry), judged by Mark Doty. That finalist status gave me the encouragement to continue sending out revised versions of the manuscript until it was eventually picked up.

During the years I sent out my full-length manuscript, I also sent out various chapbook manuscripts, comprised mainly of poems that ended up in the full-length manuscript. In 2007, I entered 11 chapbook contests and placed second in the Frank O’Hara Award, judged by Jim Elledge; my manuscript was also a semifinalist for the Gertrude Press Poetry Chapbook Contest that year. The next year I entered just one chapbook contest and didn’t place, but in 2009 I entered a few contests and my manuscript was a semifinalist for the Robin Becker Chapbook Prize (Seven Kitchens Press). In 2010, my manuscript was a runner-up for the same prize, judged that year by Eloise Klein Healy, and was offered publication, which I unfortunately had to decline as by that time my full-length collection, which contained most of the poems in the chapbook manuscript, had already been accepted and was scheduled to appear before the chapbook would.

A strange thing happened in early 2010 that I haven’t shared publicly before. A small-press publisher (who shall remain nameless and whose books I very much admire) asked to take a look at my manuscript; not too long after sending it to that publisher, I also submitted it to the Exquisite Disarray First Book Poetry Contest (and notified the other publisher that I was doing so but that I would withdraw the manuscript from the contest immediately if the other publisher wanted it). Shortly thereafter, I received an acceptance email from that other publisher. I immediately emailed Exquisite Disarray to withdraw the manuscript from consideration for the contest, but apparently they never received the email. To my great surprise several months later, I received an email from Exquisite Disarray notifying me that judge Kathleen Flenniken (author of Famous, winner of the Prairie Schooner Book Prize) had selected What Other Choice as winner of the contest. I was stunned and didn’t know what to do. First, I emailed Exquisite Disarray and told them what happened, that I had withdrawn the manuscript and that I was planning to stick with my current publisher. Then I had second thoughts: Exquisite Disarray was offering me more control over the production of the book and a larger print run. As they are a local press (based in Tacoma, which is not far from Seattle, where I live) I felt I would perhaps get more local publicity and have an easier time getting readings, etc. Furthermore, they were going to print the book on recycled paper and were going to use a local printer, both things that were quite appealing to me. That said, they were a new press, unlike the other publisher, and didn’t have a distributor. It was one of the more difficult decisions of my life; I consulted with a few close friends and former professors and with the other publisher, who graciously offered to release the manuscript, and finally decided to go with Exquisite Disarray.

Tell me about the title. Had it always been What Other Choice? Did it go through any other changes?

The first title for the earliest version of the manuscript was “Position,” which is also the title of one its poems; I decided I didn’t want that poem to be the focal point of the book, so I changed the manuscript title to “Hardly Planet Yet,” which is plucked from a line of another poem in the manuscript, a love poem called “Buggering You Under an Apple Tree.” I liked the way “Hardly Planet Yet” sounded, and I also liked that its meaning was a bit baffling without the context of the poem it came from. Ultimately, although I considered another title or two (including “Some Queer Poison,” which I felt was a bit more attention-grabbing and flashy), I decided on What Other Choice (which was plucked from a line of “Or,” another poem in the book) as I felt it was perhaps the most flexible, layered, and thematically relevant title I came up with and because it fit so ideally with the cover art I chose.

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?

A book is a manifestation of a possibility or a set of possibilities. For such a possibility or such possibilities to be made manifest, one doesn’t need to win a contest, one needs to write.

I certainly don’t think poets need to win a first-book contest or any other contest, for that matter, but I think it’s often easier (although not necessarily less expensive) to send out to contests in the U.S. (I don’t know whether the contest model is used widely in other countries, particularly in countries where English is not the first language, and hope that it is not) than to send to open reading periods, in that the contests are often more widely advertised and thus easier to find. I happened to find myself in the rare position of actually having a choice between going with a contest publisher or another publisher, as I said earlier. It was a really difficult choice; so many variables to consider and so many unknowns. I won’t say that winning a contest wasn’t something I considered while making that choice, but it wasn’t the only consideration by any means. (Frankly, I wish the contest model wasn’t the primary means for promoting and funding first books in the U.S., but for now economic concerns seem to require that. I should mention that the Exquisite Disarray First Book Poetry Contest did not have an entry fee, unlike many other first-book contests.)

Everyone takes a different path to publication; what’s most important is that the work be strong; if it is, odds are it will eventually find a publisher, although it may take many years. My advice to poets sending out their first manuscript is: send it to both contests and to open reading periods. If you can afford to submit to several at a time, do so. And try to be patient; although I admit the wait isn’t easy, it’s worth it: it will allow you to continue to revise and strengthen the manuscript. I’m very glad that it took as long as it did for my book to be published; had an earlier version been published, I would be a bit embarrassed by it, I think.

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

It went through many versions; I saved a new version every time I made changes, whether minor or major, and I have more than 100 versions saved on my computer. The process was a mixture of pain and pleasure. I very much enjoy revising individual poems, but deciding which poems belonged together in the book and in what order was difficult. Luckily, I had some readers of various versions of the manuscript give helpful suggestions about that. Nathan Whiting (one of my favorite poets and author of, among many other books of poems, the fabulous This Slave Dreads Her Work as if She Were a Lamb Commanded to Be a Musician) was kind enough to put the poems in a completely new order for me, which was extremely helpful and served as a guide as I continued to revise the manuscript and move poems around.

Many friends, some who are poets and some who aren’t, provided very helpful feedback on individual poems and on the manuscript as a whole, and I’m ever so grateful.

I continued to revise poems in the book (and to ask for and receive feedback on those revisions from a few very generous friends—including Elizabeth Colen, Greg Laynor, Dana Guthrie Martin, and Katherine Stribling—and my ever-patient sister, Anne) until the night before the final version was sent to the printer; I was so afraid I was going to overlook something. I read the book over and over during the month before it was published, and made many changes, some fairly major (including cutting a poem or two, adding an epigraph, and changing some poem titles), during that time.

Let me show you an example of what I did to one poem, titled “Position,” the day before the final version of the book was sent to the printer (it was risky, I think to make such radical changes so late in the game, but I’m glad I did). Here’s the version of the poem prior to the final version that appears in the book:

"Position"

Perhaps I was dreaming airplanes

and in my dream I lived in an age before airplanes,

an age in which birds ruled the air with wing and with song,

so that, in my dream, I was daydreaming nonexistent things

and was therefore surprised when I woke in an unfamiliar field,

my anus bleeding into dry grass, an airplane passing above me

like the ride last night from the bar to this far, unfamiliar field

and what happened here, in this space covered now by an airplane’s

small shadow, that can neither be remembered nor forgotten.

And here’s the final version that appears in the book:

"Position"

Perhaps I’d been dreaming airplanes in an age before airplanes

in which birds ruled the air with wing and song

and was therefore surprised when I woke in an unfamiliar field,

my anus bleeding into dry grass, an airplane passing above

like the ride from the bar to that ordinary field

and what happened there—in that space shadowed briefly

by the airplane—that can neither be remembered nor forgotten.

How involved were you with the design of the book—interior design, font, cover, etc.?

I was quite involved with the design of the book, in an advisory role; luckily for me, Exquisite Disarray let me have my talented sister, Anne, do all the design, so I worked closely with her on it, which isn’t to say that I did much of the work on it myself; she designed it all; she gave me choices and her professional opinion, and I gave her my approval and feedback. I trust her judgment over mine when it comes to design/layout (we’ve worked together on design projects for several years, as she’s designed each issue to date of Knockout Literary Magazine, which I’ve coedited with Brett Ortler since 2007). I’m thrilled with the work she did. I can’t imagine a more fitting or beautiful cover or interior design.

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

I found the image. The moment I saw it I knew it had to be the cover image (I don’t think I would have settled for anything else), and happily for me, Bill Kupinse, the president of Exquisite Disarray, agreed with me that it was the perfect fit for the 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 certainly wanted to have a majority of the poems published before the book was published, but not necessarily before I started sending out earlier versions of the manuscript back in 2008. I started sending a number of the book’s poems out in 2006, before I even conceived that they would be part of a manuscript. Once I received the offer from the publisher who originally offered to publish What Other Choice, I immediately started sending out the poems that hadn’t appeared in periodicals to as many magazines as I could find that had an issue coming out before the book’s planned publication date, partly because I thought it would be good and free publicity for the forthcoming book. Unfortunately, it turned out that there wasn’t time for more than a few of them to be picked up in time for that, so I needlessly spent a lot of energy and paper and time on that. Several of those poems did end up being accepted by some good magazines that I’d been trying to place work at for some time, only for it to turn out that they weren’t going to publish their next issue before Exquisite Disarray was going to publish my book, so I had to withdraw those poems from those magazines.

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 don’t think a day went by from the time I signed the contract with Exquisite Disarray until the day the final version was sent to the printer that I didn’t do some editing of the poems. I was extremely critical of the poems. Among other things, I sharpened the syntax, heightened the diction, changed line breaks, and worked a great deal on the rhythm and music of the lines.

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

I first saw a copy of my published book at the Richard Hugo House here in Seattle at a release reading of a new poetry anthology. I remember having a hard time restraining myself from flipping through my book during the reading. It was fun to hold it. I was amazed when I finally looked through it all at how well it had turned out, especially considering that it was printed only about two months after I heard that it had won the contest. An enormous amount of effort on my part, on my sister’s part, and on Exquisite Disarray’s part went into getting it to print so quickly, and I was relieved to see that it paid off.

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

I do more poetry readings and interviews, and occasionally editors of literary magazines solicit poems from me now. Oh, and I get to read reviews of my book (including this recent one), which has really been fun.

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?”

Well, I generally read on airplanes and avoid speaking to anyone other than the flight attendants, so I probably wouldn’t, but in the off chance I did, I’d probably say it was about questions of fate and free will, love, sex, identity, power, violence, and death, but not necessarily in that order, and I’d probably only be scratching the surface. I don’t think books of poetry can be easily (or at least fully or honestly) categorized. It’s hard enough to try to categorize a single poem, let alone a whole passel of them. There are too many aspects to poems; poems branch out in so many ways and cover so much territory with so few words that it’s really breathtaking. A successful poem can sometimes take the reader or listener out of time, to a level of nearly pure consciousness, transcendence over the ego. But that’s not exactly what you asked. I think you meant more whether a book of poems can be summarized, not categorized. The thing about poetry is that it really can’t be summarized; so much is lost in attempts at doing so: the delivery and texture of the language itself, the layering of suggestion and possibility, the collapsibility of time, repetition and variation, etc. I don’t think one can say what a poem means, either; one can perhaps sense it, but when one tries to define it, it slips away. Can anyone say what a river means, or what wind means, or what sexual intercourse means? Neither can one say what a poem means. A poem, like a river, like wind, is a force, however, to be reckoned with.

What have you been doing to promote What Other Choice, and what have those experiences been like for you?

Well, it’s a lot of work to promote a book, especially a first book of poems. I’ve done a number of readings and interviews, including an extended two-part filmed interview with Elliot Trotter that can be seen here. I’ve used my Facebook status more times than I care to recall. I’ve done lots of research about reviewers and sent out review copies. I’ve submitted the book (and Exquisite Disarray did as well) to a number of book awards. There are more things I should do, certainly, like setting up an author’s website, but of course there is a limit to what one can do. It can all be a bit daunting and exhausting at times, but sometimes it’s a lot of fun. Doing readings and doing interviews, such as this one, are the most fun types of book promotion, I think. One thing I’d like to do is have a preview of my book filmed and put on YouTube or Vimeo, something I’ve noticed more poets are doing with their books now, including Steven Reigns, whose book Inheritance has a haunting preview film.

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

I can’t think of anything; if someone missed something important, I still haven’t figured out what.

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

The book’s publication freed me to focus on other work and gave me a confidence boost. I am currently working on several new books that are in different stages of completion. One is a book-length erasure poem. Another is a book of short linked poems. Still another is a book of poems based on the title character of poet CAConrad’s fantastic The Book of Frank. Yet another is a book of prose poems. And the last is rather amorphous at present. Wish me luck!

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

I don’t think the world needs to change. I think that people need to change. And I do believe that poetry can change people, those who listen to it and read it and those who write it and perform it.

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Jeremy Halinen co-edits Knockout Literary Magazine. What Other Choice, his first full-length collection of poems, won the 2010 Exquisite Disarray First Book Poetry Contest and is available at alibris.com. His poems have also appeared in Best Gay Poetry 2008, Crab Creek Review, the Los Angeles Review, Poet Lore, Sentence, and elsewhere. He resides in Seattle.

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#47 - Justin Evans

How often had you sent out Town for the Trees before it was chosen for publication in 2011 by Foothills Publishing?

I must have sent it out about twenty times, but only three or four of those submissions were contests. I find it difficult to send out my work to places with which I have no connection. For that reason, I would spend a considerable amount of time researching presses, and there were quite a few which were shut down or who had suspended reading periods until further notice I wanted to have read my manuscript.

Those twenty times represent about three years of my manuscript's life because one press in particular that showed interest actually took me off the market for an entire year because I was so hopeful to submit it the next year. The editor chose not to publish poetry the next year, and when I re-submitted, she had selected a poet with whom she had worked with in the past. It was very disheartening, but not nearly as crushing as when the book had been accepted (to the point of a contract being signed) only to have it dropped. The editor and I were hopeful about the book in the future, but I ended up backing out of the agreement, in part because I was not interested in an on-line only publishing option.

It was about four months after the book was dropped I decided to send it along to Michael Czarnecki at Foothills because he had published two of my previous chapbooks. He loved it and almost immediately got back to me and said he wanted to put the book out. A few people had asked me why I didn't just send him the book in the first place. The truth is I didn't want to send it to him because I didn't want him to think I was trying to capitalize on our previous work.

Tell me about the title. Had it always been Town for the Trees? Did it go through any other changes?

No. I had actually made a change. It used to be called Springville, after the very real town most of the poems are set. Town for the Trees came to me as an appropriate play on the idea of 'forest for the trees' at some point and I never varied from that choice. Choosing titles for me is a lot of fun. I will invariably go through several ideas, and a manuscript may have three or four different working titles, but by the time I get serious about sending it out, I have decided on a title, and I don't change my mind often after that point.

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?

I have only won one contest in all of my writing and publishing experience, and that was for my first chapbook. I entered contests for the experience of entering contests, and I will probably continue to enter them as I see ones I am interested in entering. For the most part, however, I do not see myself as the contest type. In fact I just wrote about this on my blog. I really don't see my poetry, specifically my manuscripts, as the type which fits in line with contests. What I wrote about in Town for the Trees was fine one or two poems at a time, but as a manuscript it just never seemed to fit my perceptions of what a contest winning manuscript looks/reads like.

What I would like to see happen is poets entering contests at presses with which they can see themselves creating a real working relationship. I think poets should find other ways to support the small press than rationalizing their contest reading fee as support. Poets should support presses without the ulterior motive of submitting to them. We all should buy more books just to buy and read them. More presses would survive that way. I think poets should seek out presses more actively and take the time to learn about them. Because of Facebook, I rarely go a week without looking at some new press and exploring their mission. Do I submit to every press I come across? No. I query, I ask myself questions, and I weigh my options. But having heard of presses I can suggest them to poets I know, and I hope other poets might do the same for me.

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

The poems in this manuscript were quite easy to order. I had narrative arc in mind, and it was simply a matter of finding the most entertaining/best way to express that arc with the poems which I had for the book. I am a big believer in over writing, and I had a lot of poems initially, and when I had what I thought was a pretty good start, I sent my book off to a friend of a friend whose work I admired. He got back to me with more cuts to make, and I made most of those and ended up with something which was pretty close to the final manuscript. I wanted to do a few specific things and I set about doing them. On such thing was the placement of two haibun poems and a few advent poems at specific points in the manuscript. One choice made early on was to not have sections. I had tried several variations of the book with sections, and every time the book felt wholly unnatural. By the time I was sending the book out regularly, it was pretty much set.

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?

I was involved a lot more than I was really comfortable with as a rule. I know it's my book of poems, but the last thing I want anyone to come away with is the idea that I am the alpha and omega of my poetry universe. I'm not. However, Michael Czarnecki publishes quite a few books each year and it is a very small operation. This means he really doesn't have the time to do a lot of cover art, so he asks for photographs and cover design suggestions. I sent a couple of pictures I had taken and he mocked up a few covers. My wife and I immediately chose the cover choice he made for my proof copy. I will say the cover photo is of the Springville City Cemetery. The interior presentation and font was all Michael. I have known his work for years and trusted his eye, so there weren't any complaints there. As for any future books, I hope to have as little involvement as possible because I don't believe it's correct for me to be involved with that part of the process. It's where I am supposed to trust my editor.

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?

Most of the poems had been accepted for publication and had been published years ago. Of course, it's important to remember that many of the poems are a decade old or even older. Any poems not published from the manuscript were not published as a conscious decision. I have never thought that it was key to have a majority of the poems published because most of them were already published as a part of their natural life. In the end it is the poem that matters, and the manuscript as a whole when it comes to book publication. Is the poem well written? Is the poem essential to the manuscript? I think publication is important on some level, but I know when I have written a poem essential to a manuscript which will never be sent out for publication on its own. I think it is important for a poet to know the difference but also understand editors often look to publication to gauge how well the poems have been received.

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?

None. The poems had already been so far down that road, by the time the book was coming out there simply were no changes to make. I was pretty fortunate in that category. The only thing I needed to do was proof for my own typos and mistakes.

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

I had been waiting for a few days since I got word from Foothills that my books were on their way. I had to go pick them up because where I live there is no home delivery. I was out and about doing errands, so I had to drive around with my box of books for about twenty minutes or so before I could come home and open the box. When I opened the box, I found my books were wrapped in butcher paper in smaller bundles. It was like Christmas. I tore into them and took a picture or two with my wife's camera. They were so pristine. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Foothills, their books are hand-stitched and really are works of art in and of themselves. It was a rush to say the least. I still have a few wrapped bundles of my book up in my closet.

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

I can breathe easier. I mean that. I can stand up and be a little more relaxed than I used to be. Of course I still have to work to get the word out about my poetry, I still teach high school to pay the bills, and I still have my poetry rejected on a regular basis, but I must say I really do feel more at ease with myself as a poet. What's more, when I see my book, I feel better about the path I have had to travel in order to get where I am.

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 would begin by saying my book is part landscape meditation and part elegy for the places we no longer have. I would follow that up by saying it is an acknowledgement that we carry the places we have known for our entire lives and that is worthy of reflection. I would talk about how important Springville is, and was to my formation as a poet and a person, and how important "place" is for me.

What have you been doing to promote Town for the Trees, and what have those experiences been like for you?

I have been giving away a lot of copies in the hope people will review it and get the word out. I have started the process of setting up readings wherever and whenever I can. I have been doing scads of interviews and offering trades of my book for other people's books. I live 120 miles away from a Wal-Mart, and as pleasant as that reality is on many levels, it also means I don't have an in-person writer community/network to help promote my book. If anyone out there is interested in one or more of the options I have mentioned, please get hold of me.

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

Well, first off, I have read just about every first book interview in this series, and I have really enjoyed learning all of the little tidbits of advice everyone gives. The biggest piece of advice I needed was to start much earlier on book promotion. I should have been building my network much earlier, sending e-mails and sample poems much sooner. Asking for help from day one. People get tired of hearing from you, but you know what? It works.

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

I'm more methodical. The process of ordering a manuscript, looking through proofs, and going back and forth with what should be included has made me more conscious of the process of writing poems with a manuscript specifically in mind. I'm also more confident in the choices I make as I work towards the completion of newer projects. I have a second manuscript completed which is radically different from Town for the Trees, and I have started a third book length manuscript about the history of my home town.

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

Yes, but it's like what Gandhi offered: Be the change in the world you want to see. The change that poetry offers is in the individual, not in some measurable shift with the outside world. Don't just tell people about poetry. If you want poetry to make a difference, then write a poem which changes yourself, and help others to do the same.

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Justin Evans is the author of Town for the Trees (Foothills Publishing, 2011), and three earlier chapbooks of poetry. He is also the author of a chapbook of political humor, which took the form of letters written to Karl Rove in late 2004 and early 2005, titled, Dear Mr. Rove: 32 Letters to Karl Rove (Imbecile Press, 2008). Justin was born and raised in Utah at the base of the Wasatch Rockies. After graduating from high school in 1987 and finding nothing better to do in the following year, he joined the United States Army in 1988, where he served in various domestic and foreign locations. After leaving the military in 1992 Justin completed his undergraduate studies in History and English Education at Southern Utah University. After, he and his family relocated to rural Nevada where he began teaching in a Junior/Senior high school. In 2004, Justin completed a Master's Degree in Literacy Studies at University of Nevada, Reno. He is married to Becky Lee Evans, and together they have three sons. Find more information at his blog: http://justinevanspoetry.blogspot.com/

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#46 - Kyle McCord

How often had you sent out Galley of the Beloved in Torment before it was chosen as the winner of the 2008 Orphic Prize for Poetry from Dream Horse Press?

I sent some version of the book out for about two years. The second year, I decided I would just fully invest in my own work, so I sent the manuscript to a huge array of places. I felt (and still feel) like my work balances between a few traditions in a way that makes it tricky to publish. So, even though it was expensive, I think a wide range of contests was the best choice.

Tell me about the title. Had it always been Galley of the Beloved in Torment? Did it go through any other changes?

I came up with the title poem first. I actually wrote the poem as part of an emulation of a Lisa Jarnot piece, though, as often happens, the poem boiled out to be completely different from anything in Ring of Fire.

I suppose the truest test of a title is how you feel about it after the book comes out and is in the world for a bit, and I’m still very happy with the title. The book went through a phase where it was called A Nesting Doll, but the title didn’t offer much shape to the manuscript. As I began to imagine these poems as undeliverable monologues written by a lost beloved to another, it gave the book an identity.

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?

Winning contests is great. But (the inevitable but) I would say it’s much more important to have a press that’s a good vehicle for you and your work. If a press runs a free open reading period like Graywolf or Black Ocean and you think your book is a good fit, ship it over! Some contests can propel a writer into some level of prominence, but being on a press you love from the get-go, especially if they option future work, can be at least as good a deal.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful to Dream Horse, no question. The extra prestige and money has been wonderful. I do guarantee that plenty of folks who do not win contests will have books that are still incredibly visible and well-distributed. Winning a contest is a nice plus, but it’s much more of an icing-on-the-cake situation than people make it out to be.

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

There is a part of me that still doesn’t feel like a manuscript is complete until I’ve laid out each page on the floor to form a crazy grid that I can walk around. It’s some part of me that still believes there is always one mystical, perfect arrangement just waiting to be called into being.

The book went through two major permutations—the A Nesting Doll stage and its final form. The sections were relatively clear to me from the beginning, but I did have this moment of epiphany when I realized that the then second section needed to be first.

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?

I didn’t have a ton of input on the interior of the book, but I doubt that’s uncommon with first books. I’m a Garamond fan (though lately I’ve begun to admire Perpetua), and my publisher had a font in mind that looked similar to Garamond.

The cover was a different story though. J.P. Dancing Bear, the editor at Dream Horse, selected thirteen paintings from an Australian surrealist collective and sent them to me to pick what I thought was best. After hounding friends for opinions, I narrowed it down to two wildly different designs: the current design and a painting that looked like a Hieronymus Bosch piece. I eventually concluded that the second, though wonderful, was a little too instructive in terms of what the book was going to be about.

If I had any advice for folks who are publishing a first book, I would say that it’s imperative to have some say in a book’s cover. I read a huge range of first books, and a beautiful, or conversely, not so stellar cover can really color a reading. Be sure to check out the design work of a publisher when you’re considering submission. If you really don’t dig a publisher’s previous designs, it’s pretty unlikely that you’re going to be happy with the look and feel of your book. It’s a worthwhile consideration!

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 really got my start as an intern at the Beloit Poetry Journal, so I’ve always seen journal publication as an imperative part of interacting in the poetry community. I had been placing poems for about a year before I got serious about sending out the book. I found homes for about a third of the poems.

I don’t know that I would send out a book until I’d at least seen how the individual poems had done in the realm of journal submission. It gives a person insight into what sort of audience might be most receptive. Sometimes, it’s not who you’d expect, which is great to know!

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?

Commas. Oh man, let me tell you about commas. The book went through five galleys (Galley of the Galley... funny, I know) and nearly all of the edits were comma-related. I didn’t have the same sense of grammar during the three years I worked on the book, so when I sat down to consider consistency, I had to make some extensive choices in regards to appearance and meaning.

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

Maybe this is what everyone says, but I don’t think anyone can understand what a wonderful moment it is when you see your work out in the world for the first time. I remember that during my MFA at UMass the program hosted a first book festival that included panels by folks whose first books had just been released. I remember Ethan Paquin from Slope was on a panel where he talked about sending two manuscripts out for two consecutive years and dropping thousands of dollars on the process. He gave a grim, but not necessarily unrealistic picture of how tough it was and is, and I took that seriously.

That was somewhere in the recesses of my mind when I opened the package and saw my book for the first time. It was sort of staggering and emotional all at once. Mostly, I would just say that I felt grateful.

How has your life been different since your book came out? What have you been doing to promote Galley of the Beloved in Torment, and what have those experiences been like for you?

I think there’s also a misconception that publishing a book is the end of process, but the truth is that it’s more of a midpoint. Releasing a book opens some doors, but it also makes demands on you as a writer. It can mean setting up readings, promoting the work online, and a slew of other time-consuming projects, even on the most active presses.

For me, it opened some doors that allowed me to go on tour with another poet on Dream Horse—Keith Montesano. It was the tour that changed my life more than anything. The tour lasted a little short of three weeks. Since then, I have felt more willing to be reckless in my work. I think a book release lends the author some legitimacy in the world of poetry and that legitimacy is so critical in a job where it’s easy to go unacknowledged.

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 often find myself telling the story where an audience member approached Robert Frost and asked what one of his poems was about. Frost responded to the question by politely rereading the poem verbatim. Anyone who has taken an intro to poetry workshop probably knows that what a poem is about may not be the best place to start. However, it’s still a question we’re responsible for as writers.

So, I would probably tell my curious fellow passenger that it’s a book of surrealist poetry that explores contemporary life and religious language mostly through the form of parables. I suspect this might be met with a long stare, at which point I might jokingly add, “it’s got animals in it too.”

I was just at Salvador Dali’s museum in Figueres, Spain, and I can tell you people love Dali even though it’s probably not in the public vocabulary to explain the significance of a dead horse blanketed with melting clocks. So, to say that surrealism is at a disadvantage in terms of audience reception just because it can’t always point to a singular subject as a focus, well, I’m just not sure that’s true.

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

This is sort of tough, but I do wish that I’d understood earlier that the best supporters of poetry are poets themselves. It’s a lesson that became clear to me while Keith and I were on tour. I think a big part of marketing a book of poetry is knowing how to present the book to other poets as well as the general populace. Audience is such a huge question that I don’t know that anyone can really start grappling with until they’re standing at the front of an auditorium or bookstore after a reading waiting for someone to buy a book. It just gives you such a totally different insight on the nature and purpose of art.

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

I just had a new book of co-written epistolary poems come out from Gold Wake Press. The book is called Informal Invitations to a Traveler. My co-writer, Jeannie Hoag, and I had just finished writing and revising that manuscript when my first book came out. I think my third manuscript is probably more of a reaction to some of the things I learned from Galley. I wanted to try making an extremely accessible, I-driven book while maintaining the imaginative capability that is central in my work. It’s just a different style of book.

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

One SAT question a few years ago asked students “Is there such a thing as the modern day hero?” I’m not so vain to suggest that poets fill that role, but I would say this is indicative of the fact that one thing the world seems to suffer from at the moment is a dearth of belief in heroism. And maybe there is some basis to feel so distrustful, but I still believe we desperately need prophets, which is one of the roles of poets.

I don’t believe truly great poetry can ever flourish from nihilism, and I fear that sort of cynicism that obliges no action is becoming so prevalent any more. I think poetry, by its very nature, resists this sort of hopelessness. The wonderful thing about Whitman’s America is that it’s so much more than any of us could live up to, but by its utterance, in a way, it is real and what it asks of us is even more real. So, I think poetry has a lot to offer to the world, and maybe more now than in the past, the role poetry can and should play is so crucial. Hope requires imagination, and as poets, we have responsibility to protect and cultivate imagination in ourselves and the world around us.

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Kyle McCord is the author of two books of poetry. His first book, Galley of the Beloved in Torment, was the winner of the 2008 Orphic Prize. His second book is a co-written book of epistolary poems entitled Informal Invitations to a Traveler from Gold Wake Press. He has work forthcoming or featured in Boston Review, Columbia Poetry Journal, Cream City Review, Gulf Coast, Volt and elsewhere. He lives in Des Moines where he teaches co-edits iO: A Journal of New American Poetry. Find more information at his website: http://kylemccord.com/

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#45 - Luke Johnson

How often had you sent out After the Ark before it was chosen for publication in 2011 by NYQ Books?

I sent the manuscript to sixteen places, mostly first book contests, before it was taken by NYQ. About half of these publishers saw an early draft of the manuscript, one that looked much closer to my graduate thesis than does the final product. That version was selected as a semi-finalist for one of the big first book prizes, but by the time I’d found this out, I had already overhauled the manuscript. I probably sent the revised version to 7 or 8 places before I was invited to submit by Raymond Hammond at NYQ Books, who responded within a few weeks letting me know he wanted to publish the dang thing.

Tell me about the title. Had it always been After the Ark? Did it go through any other changes?

In my second year of grad-school, I was thinking about thesis titles and trying to identify my obsessions (if you’re not looking at your own writing, these are called ‘themes’). I snatched out line fragments, scoured quotes from the canon, Wordle-d my manuscript and looked at the most-used pieces of language—searching anywhere for something to call what was then my thesis. One of my professors used to talk about the continuum of titles available to a writer: from the concrete situational title that gives the reader a firm narrative foundation on which to begin (i.e. “Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy's Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota”) all the way to the more abstract or ambiguous title (“Signs”) that does a different sort of cognitive work in forcing the reader to reconcile it with the content of the poem. Certainly, they both have their spot in the toolbox. But, in thinking about this, I realized that my favorite titles, both of individual poems (“Love Calls Us to the Things of This World”) and of collections (The Wild Iris), seemed to fall somewhere between the poles. I worry when I feel as though a title is stage-directing, dictating (or, limiting) the unraveling of a poem, so I look for a balance of story and metaphor. For me, a good title should have or imply both.

Back to the question: the book deals heavily with my parents’ ministries, their divorce, and my mother’s death. I wanted the book’s title to do situational work: establish the religious backdrop and affect a sense of loss and absence, but also of renewal. I was writing a great deal at this point—my second year of grad-school—spouting and pruning about 2 poems a week for workshops at Hollins. Whenever I wasn’t sure where to start, I’d sit down with a field guide, pick an animal and try to write my way in. So I had lots of these animal poems. They featured animals, but probably weren’t ‘about’ animals any more than Wilbur’s gorgeous poem linked above is ‘about’ laundry. Anyway, it was around then (’08), that I floated (bad pun) the idea of calling it just Ark. You know, because it was filled with animals. That seemed a bit too broad and inessential, but it did have the Biblical connotation I was looking for. I was intrigued by the idea of an aftermath, a survival of what seems then apocalyptic. After a bit of gnashing, I came up with After the Ark. A few weeks later, I wrote the title poem, the longest in the book, with the idea that it would be the last poem in the collection. The book has been called After the Ark ever since.

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?

I think it’s important to separate the book from the job. When it comes to the book itself, I was never that concerned with the ‘contest-winner’ label. I just wanted a book of which I could be proud, one that would be aesthetically pleasing and widely available to readers. I had worked with Raymond before and knew that he was a great editor, someone who would take good care with the poems.

When it comes to getting a job teaching creative writing, it’s certainly not a bad thing to have won one of the prestigious contests. If one’s main concern is a job teaching creative writing, then it’s only reasonable to worry about winning one of those big contests (and be willing to wait for it, potentially). We’re fortunate to live in a time in which there are multitudinous ways to publish a beautiful book. There are many more fine presses than there are tenure-track teaching jobs. My advice to poets would be to send your poems to presses you think publish beautiful books—some of them will be contests, some of them won’t be. In the end, it’s about finding a curator for your work you believe in, one that in turn believes in your work. Fame and fortune will come later, or not at all, or cease to seem so important.

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

It came together, for the first time, as my MFA thesis in the spring of 2009. I had little to no idea where to start, but was fortunate to have a great support system at Hollins and an amazing advisor in Cathryn Hankla. Eventually, my manuscript settled into three sections. This version went out to all the major first-book contests and a couple of open reading periods. Christmas of 2009, I had a breakthrough with the structure of the collection. A friend had kindly and generously lent his eyes to my manuscript and he suggested I separate three triolets I had in a sequence titled “Chemotherapy Triolets.” Each triolet took place in a different season, and I tried setting them as frontispieces for the three sections of the book. Somehow, it was only then that it clicked with me that the structure could be something as basic and straightforward as a seasonal arrangement. After realizing this, I merely set the poems according to their season. Simplifying things in this way made it much easier for me. I felt as though I was over-thinking before, searching for minute tangential connections to provide the book’s sinew. The seasonal arrangement gave me bones. This skeleton took the indecision out and made the collection’s structure appear (at least to me) much more logical.

How involved were you with the design of the book—interior design, font, cover, etc.?

I felt intimately involved in the process of putting together the book. Raymond kept me in the loop throughout. He did everything with the interior design, and asked me to select an image for the cover. He stressed the idea that we were building a book together, an idea which was extremely meaningful to me. I imagine if I ever had any issues with layout, etc., he would have been amenable to changes, but I was thrilled with how everything looked from the first galley I saw.

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

After I found NYQ wanted to publish the book, I emailed a copy of the manuscript to an old friend who I knew to be a hugely talented graphic designer, Patrick Howard. He read the poems and we discussed a few concepts. Later, Pat sent me a draft. It was basically the same image as the one we ended up using for the cover, only where there is now a willow tree, there was an Ark. I loved the feel of a watercolor, and really dug the depth, texture, and range of the colors Pat used, but I worried an actual ark might be heavy-handed, so I searched through the poems again looking for images that repeat. I noticed willows recur and suggested maybe a willow could replace the Ark. He sent me another draft, and it would go on to become the cover. It felt perfect. I remain immensely grateful that I was so involved in this part of the process, and feel very lucky to have worked with a friend and artist as talented as Pat.

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 definitely think that having published individual poems in magazines lends your manuscript confidence. It also gives you confidence, something that’s important in a pursuit that can be mostly angst. Previous publications certainly won’t win you a contest or an editor’s support, but they can possibly gain a keener eye from a first or second reader. I would never include a poem in a collection just because it’s been published in a good place—it has to fit in more transcendental and thematic ways—but, I don’t think it hurts to establish some level of professionalism, some proof that the writer is actively participating in the literary community.

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?

By the time I found out NYQ wanted to publish the book, I was happy with most of the poems. So there weren’t many changes, though there were three that I decided to cut and one new piece that I added—we also shifted the order slightly in a few cases so as to have all the two-page poems on facing pages.

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

I know one of the first things I did was sniff it—and then I let my dog sniff it, as if to confirm that it was, in fact, a real thing. There had never been a smell before—books have smells, computer files on the desktop don’t. I remember alphabetizing the spine on my shelf between Heaney and Joyce, and immediately feeling ridiculous. I remember I slept with the book under my pillow. I remember not being able to sleep and knowing why.

How has your life been different since your book came out? Did it become a factor in getting a future job for you?

I currently work full-time at an excellent pet store in Seattle. I don’t think the book had much to do with me getting hired there. Every other month-or-so, I’ll teach an online composition class as an adjunct. Neither employer seems too interested in the book’s publication, which is fine and makes me feel more accountable when it’s time to actually write poems.

Occasionally, I’ll feel self-sorry and wish I could bring my love of poetry more completely to the center of my occupational attention, but at those times I comfort myself by thinking of Faulkner working at the electrical company while writing As I Lay Dying. It reminds me that writing successfully is about nothing more than getting the words on the page, however and wherever you can.

I hope, sometime before I die, to teach reading and writing. If the book helps get me there, that’d be great. For now, new writing happens before sunrise and has very little to-do with the jobs that bring home the bacon.

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?”

Faith and grief, and the ways in which we navigate them.

What have you been doing to promote After the Ark, and what have those experiences been like for you?

I’ve done a few readings, including one at my alma mater, Elon University, and one at AWP in celebration of my graduate program’s 50^th anniversary. Both were surreal, and for both I’m extremely grateful. It was so heartening to share the finished product with the same folks who were so insightful and encouraging during the book’s conception. The strangest was when I visited classes at Elon and all the students had copies of After the Ark. I would read a poem from the book and they would turn to the page it was on. I couldn’t get over the strangeness of it. Seeing one or two copies had up to that point seemed normal, but having them there en masse struck me as all-of-a-sudden real. It was terrifying and incredible.

Most of my active promotion has been web-based. It’s simply the most inexpensive and extensive way to spread the word. I’ve maintained a blog since 2007, one which I hope is about much more than self-promotion (though, a fair bit of that slips through). I’ve found a wonderful sense of community in the blogosphere and have been floored by the generosity of these folks, some of whom I know only by their links, fragments, and poems. The cultivation of a generous and dynamic community, whether virtual or otherwise, will have a much longer (and larger) impact than moving a few copies on Amazon. That said, it’s been hard to gauge if blog-promotion has led to book sales, but I try to think a little bit more about the long haul. I don’t want to force the book down people’s throats, but I do want them do know how to get it if they’re so inclined, so I added a PayPal button to the blog and started a group for the book on Facebook.

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

Make sure the poems look good on the page, make sure you believe in every single one of them, and then let them go.

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

I like to think that the book’s publication has freed my synapses to things heretofore unexplored. I’m about twenty poems into a new project, one which at this point is almost entirely composed of near-rhyming couplets. I have little idea where it’s going, but I’m excited to find out.

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

The right poem read at the right time can turn an individual’s world on its head and, certainly, change it. But this can only happen if that poem finds its way into that person’s hands. It’s important to drag poetry around in the daylight, not just through institutions and outreach programs (though, these are excellent and important things, too), but in day-to-day interactions: talk to people at the pet store about Seamus Heaney, tell the girl from Pittsburgh about Jack Gilbert’s heartbreaking poems, memorize snatches of Bishop’s letters, leave a copy of 32 Poems on the lunch-table. I get annoyed when I encounter folks who are ironic or detached when they talk about their passions, something which seems to happen all too often in poetry. Poems can remind us of the things we didn’t know we knew. They can call us to a larger sense of attention, a clarity of thought and expression mostly absent from day-to-day discourse, but they can only do these wonderful things if poets help to make it happen.

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Luke Johnson was born in Ithaca, New York. He is the author of After the Ark (NYQ Books, 2011). His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Beloit Poetry Journal, Best New Poets, New England Review, Southwest Review, Threepenny Review, and elsewhere. He currently lives in Seattle, Washington, where he’s working on a new collection of poems. Find his blog at http://proofofblog.blogspot.com

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