#88 - Emilia Phillips

How often had you sent out Signaletics before The University of Akron Press chose it for publication in 2013?

Almost counts in horseshoes, hand grenades, and this question, so let’s say I sent the book out about twenty times. I sent it out to its first contest in the fall of 2011, and I heard back from the University of Akron Press in the summer of 2012. It received a few finalist nods elsewhere and was, after I withdrew it, under serious consideration with another press. But I found the right editor, Mary Biddinger, at the right time, and I’m pleased as a possum in a trash bin to be with the Akron Poetry Series.

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

For a little while the manuscript was titled Latent Print after a sequence by the same name, but it soon became Signaletics. The only time I really doubted the title was when a Famous-Poet-Not-to-Be-Named upon hearing my title said, “Are you actually smart? Or are you just trying to sound that way?” What a blow! Fortunately, after a few nights of pacing and self-doubt, I had some reassurance from a mentor, and I have no regrets about it now. I do have to explain the title at readings often, but that just gives me a lead-off talking 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?

Money’s certainly nice, and that’s one reason one should certainly enter contests. (In addition to the fact that prizes often have tenured acclaim and publicity.) But I think landing a book with a press you respect for their other titles, their design, distribution, and marketing is more important. So, if you land with an editor you love outside of a contest, be grateful!

Occasionally, I’ll hear a poet who second guesses a decision to go with a press or not, especially after the new-car-smell of the book wears off. If you can find a great editor, hell, that beats the candy in the contest piñata.

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

It’s difficult for me to locate what’s a draft versus what’s an iteration of a draft. The book didn’t come together in stages, as the term draft implies. I was always tinkering with it, from the smallest things to the biggest. Occasionally, I would swell up with an idea for a poem and have to write it down. Some of the collection’s poems were drafted as early as autumn 2009. The last was written in late spring 2012. I continue to tinker with the book until the final draft was due in early 2013. The biggest changes were with ordering. I’d say the book went through about four or five arrangements before it was picked up, two after. One of my peer reviewers suggested that the book was a little cold, lacking in emotion. At first I was defeated by this comment, but then I later realized that a reordering of the collection could help reveal the stakes of the poems. At that point, I shifted toward the front a few poems that contained the narratives or situations that make the emotional implications more clear. That’s when I knew the book was right.

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

I was very involved. My designer’s name is Amy Freels; she works for both University of Akron and Cleveland State University Press. She’s incredible. I sent her countless images of things I was considering, and she was very patient with me through the whole process. We finally settled on a historical photograph—a mug shot—from Sydney, Australia. We were granted usage rights for a small fee. From there, Amy composed the cover. After that, she wrote to me one day and said that she had an idea for section breaks, a small illustration from an antique book about public speaking gestures. It was exactly what I wanted.

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

As I mentioned before, yes. I found the image in a historical trust’s online archives.  Fortunately, my designer loved it!

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 wanted a majority taken by journals I admire before it went into the contest circuit. Once it was taken, I wanted all the poems to come out in journals before the book was published. I had about four or five left over, so I sent those out and placed them quickly. All the poems were published prior to the book’s publication.

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?

First of all, once the book was accepted, I asked Mary if I could add two poems. I sent her the manuscripts including the additions and she approved. The book next went out to two peer reviewers who both provided me with some excellent feedback. I’d say it went through two more rounds of reordering, a round of nitpicking, and a round of copyediting. Then it went into a draft with the interior design.

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

I was at Bread Loaf. The official release date for the book was September 1, 2013, but I had been accepted as a fellow to the conference, and in order to go as a fellow, my book had to be out. Akron rushed the printing of the books and got them out on August 11, 2013, the day before the conference started. The first time I saw the book was in the Bread Loaf bookstore where it was being bought by poets I respect and admire. Incredible!

   

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 usually avoid this conversation because it leads to “I read a poem at my mother’s funeral and it helped me grieve” at best or, at worst, “People still write poetry?” So, when someone asks me what my book is about, I say something like “Well, they’re poems, so you can imagine that they can be about pretty much everything.” Of course, some people have the notion that poems can only be difficult abstract representations of love, nature, and death. If I’m feeling like I don’t want to evangelize them about how amazing poetry can be, what it can contain and be about, I say something like “forensics, my father, and anxiety.” If they pry any further, I’d say, “Wanna see a copy? I have one right here in my carry-on, and one in my check bag, and one in the seat pocket in front of me, and my agent and assistant have copies in the row behind us, and…” just to freak them out.

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

I’ve done a lot of readings in the last year, some at my own expense. It’s not easy out there to book readings that pay, but I saved a little moolah to hit the road a couple times this last year. I have to say that, if you’re running a reading series, the least you should do is buy a visiting writer supper and let them crash on your floor. Oh, and make sure that at least a couple of copies are purchased. (A book raffle? Signed copies to donate to the library?) That’s all I want when I get out there. If there’s more, well, that’s gravy.

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

Take a clonazepam, and chill out. I think I got everything covered as best I could, but I obsessed over everything and caused a great deal of anxiety for myself. Perhaps I won’t do those sorts of things with the next book.

Are there any new writing projects in the works?

Earlier this summer I sent off my finalized second manuscript titled Groundspeed to Mary Biddinger at Akron. It will go to the board for final approval in September. Also, since my return from working at the Sewanee Writers’ Conference, I’ve written seven poems! How has that happened, especially since I said I would work exclusively on essays for a while . . .? Bad poet, bad!

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

For some people, and many of them already have that gravitational pull rocking their tides, and then there’s some that can be reborn in poetry, and then there will be some people that will never have their world changed by poetry, and we shouldn’t be sad about that. Earlier this year, a good friend of mine cried in front of a Pollack painting at the Art Institute of Chicago while I stood beside him, a little sleepy and sugar-doped from the dessert we had just before. Sometimes poetry can’t even change my world. I was recently listening to Joy Katz on the Poetry Foundation’s “Poetry Off the Shelf” podcast talk about how, after her mother died, she couldn’t find poems that could help her deal with that grief. There have been times when poems were the last things I wanted to read, and why? Because maybe right then I needed music. Or time with friends. Not poems. And this is healthy. It’s like not drinking for a while and then having one nice Hendrick’s and tonic and realizing that it all goes to your head much faster those days, and you feel giddy for it. That’s what I need some times, to be a lightweight with poetry, to not grow cynical. And maybe I’m not answering your question head on; maybe I’m talking more about how poetry can change people and how a person can change people by how much time they devote to poems. But, of course, a change in enough people changes what we call the “world,” the human world. Now ask me if poetry can terraform, and we can talk figuratively.

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Emilia Phillips is a poet. She is the author of Signaletics (University of Akron Press, 2013) Groundspeed (University of Akron Press, 2016) and three chapbooks including Bestiary of Gall (Sundress Publications, 2013) and Beneath the Ice Fish Like Souls Look Alike (Bull City Press, forthcoming in 2014). Her poetry appears in Agni, Harvard Review, The Kenyon Review, Poetry, and elsewhere. She’s the recipient of the 2013–2014 Emerging Writer Lectureship at Gettysburg; 2012 Poetry Prize from The Journal; 2nd Place in Narrative’s 2012 30 Below Contest; and fellowships from Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference, U.S. Poets in Mexico, and Vermont Studio Center. She serves as the prose editor for 32 Poems, a staff member at the Sewanee Writers’ Conference; and an adjunct instructor of English and creative writing at Virginia Commonwealth University.

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#87 - Robert Ostrom

How often had you sent out The Youngest Butcher in Illinois before YesYes Books chose it for publication in 2012?

I lost count. I remember that, for over a year, I spent a lot of money on contests. Broke and dejected, for nearly another year, I sent to contests occasionally. In the end, I got really lucky. I was just about to overhaul the whole schmear when Justin Boening, who was the acquisitions editor at YesYes, wrote to ask if I had a manuscript in the works. 

Tell me about the title. Had it always been The Youngest Butcher in Illinois? Did it go through any other changes? 

Titling the book was maybe the hardest part for me. Several years ago, I was listening to a This American Life episode entitled 24 Hours at the Golden Apple. The producer interviewed a man named John Zervas who, in 1979 at 8 years old, was the youngest butcher in Illinois. I knew I’d be lifting that for a title, although the poem has little else in common with Mr. Zervas. The Youngest Butcher in Illinois felt like the best title for the book, but I wondered if the title poem could shoulder the book. I made long lists of titles and sent them to friends who almost always chose YBI. In the end, it felt inevitable and right.

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?

The contest system is a costly gamble. Advice? There’s something to be said for ushering your work into the world with reverence. After all, it’s cost you time and blood and tears and any number of other fluids, vitreous and cardinal. Don’t send to contests that haven’t published books you like. If you know who the judge is, don’t send to that contest if you know she or he won’t be into your work. Don’t waste your money. It’s helpful to get individual poems out into the world. Some people (who are not me) are really good at networking; that’s of use apparently. If you feel strongly that your book would be at home with a certain press, get your manuscript to them. 

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

Out of the four chapters that make up the book, two sections constitute a long poem, To Show the Living, which had been published as a chapbook. In some ways, having this long poem made things more difficult for me— I was worried it dominated the book or that it was of its own world. I contemplated (and still consider) turning it into a book-length poem. However, I wanted the book to have formal variety with the poems still being sectarian or at least accomplices— I imagined many of the poems were just different trails through the same quagmire—so I had to ax quite a few sweethearts. On the same token, the need for unity produced its own poems. This is something Linda Gregg told me— that as she nears the end of writing a book, the book itself writes poems. In short, assembling the book had to do with arranging the long poem, cutting poems of different lineage and writing bridge poems. 

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

The mastermind and captain of YesYes Books, KMA Sullivan, told me to list artists whose work I felt was kindred to the book. This was both gracious and daunting. I’m pretty sure Dan Estabrook was the first person on my list. She liked him too. We looked at all of his work and chose some favorites. KMA took over from there: she chose the art and designed the book. Still, she involved me every step of the way. It was important to me that the paper wasn’t super white, and she honored that. Maybe because it makes my eye floaters go crazy, I really hate white paper. 

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?

Initially, I didn’t really care if I had an extensive list of journals in my acknowledgements page, but before the book was coming out, it did occur to me that this could be a good thing— a stamp of approval. And since YesYes was a very new press, maybe it’d be good for them too. I don’t know how these things work. And, like I said, the long poem had been published as a chapbook which meant half of the book had been published all at once. 

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 feel like I edited the poems too much, but I recently found a very early draft and was shocked to see how much had changed. By the time KMA and Justin got their hands on it, the poems were pretty much as they are now. We did play around with sections. Also, YesYes asked me to cut two sections from the book, and I think it was the right choice. Those sections have been published as a chapbook and a pamphlet. One, Nether and Qualms, is available from Projective Industries. If you ask YesYes nicely, they might send you a copy of the pamphlet A Happy Idea. 

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

I remember everything. I met KMA at the Myrtle-Wycoff stop, and we took the L train together. I’d been warned by her and others that it can be a bizarre experience. And sure enough, it was. I’m such an anxious person; the only thing I could do was worry about everything. Out of all the feelings I remember from that day, I believe the strangest was the sense that it was done. All that working and dreaming and rejection was over. I’m not sure why, but when I think back to that, I hear Hart Crane, “Is the silence strong enough/ To carry back the music to its source/ And back to you again…” It was strange to go through these emotions and to see my book for the first time in the presence of someone else. KMA and I rode the train together for a while, then I had to go to work with my first book in my bag. I was teaching an undergraduate workshop at Columbia that day, and though the book was all I could think about, I told no one.

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’m on an airplane right now. If I wasn’t so sheepish, I’d give it a try. I don’t love attempting to say what it’s about. In fact, I probably wouldn’t answer that question seriously ever. I’d half-joke that it’s about my mom and my ex(es). There are themes of family and displacement that run through the book. The can of worms if the worms are my obsessions. I think the guy sitting next to me hates me. 

What have you been doing to promote The Youngest Butcher in Illinois, and what have those experiences been like for you?

Again, I’m really fortunate to have been published by YesYes books. KMA and her people really believe in their writers and work hard to promote their work. They set up readings, including a West Coast tour, and sent the book to a variety of contests and reviewers. I’m terrible at self-promotion. 

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

I can’t think of anything I wish someone had told me. I had such tremendous support. Maybe this: Don’t make any last-minute changes to poems.

Are there any new writing projects in the works?

I’m finishing up a second book, but that could take forever. 

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Robert Ostrom is the author of The Youngest Butcher in Illinois (YesYes Books). He lives in Queens and teaches at the New York City College of Technology and Columbia University. 

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#86 - Tanya Olson

How often had you sent out Boyishly before it was chosen for publication by YesYes Books in 2013?

I sent that version probably 5 places before it found its home at YesYes. It was a finalist with the National Poetry Series and with Arktoi at Red Hen when YesYes asked to see it; I was thrilled that YesYes wanted to give it a home.

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

It had always been Boyishly, but when I sent it to YesYes, I had changed the title. Their first question was about the title, so it went right back to Boyishly. They were right. The book had been close enough that I felt like some small changes might be the thing needed to get it published. The title wasn’t the thing that needed to change though.

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?

Contests have certainly become the most common way to a book, which seems mostly unfortunate. I feel lucky that I didn’t have to follow that path, even though I did enter some contests, mostly because I felt like I had to. YesYes asked to see the manuscript because one of their editors knew my work. That struck me as a healthier relationship, like they were interested in me as a poet with a whole career instead of just picking a blind manuscript that was their favorite in the stack.

I don’t say any of that to be critical of contest winners or entrants though. I don’t think my poetry path should be prescriptive; I would say that there are other paths to a poetry career besides MFA programs, journals, residencies, and contests. If that’s the path you take, that’s great, but I don’t like the myth that those things are the only way a person can build a career as a poet.

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

I started writing in 2000, never thinking about a book. I just liked writing poems and I never thought about them in relationship to each other. In 2010, I started thinking about a book and started looking at all the poems I had, trying to figure out what they had in common, what questions ran through them. That was very hard. Once I had a stack together, I started to play with order and groups; I would put poems in as I wrote new ones that I thought worked and pull old ones out that lost relevance or no longer fit. The order shifted a lot; I physically spread the poems out and walked from one to the other to decide what followed what. Once I had a rough order I would spread them out on the conference table at work and shift them around. The first poem is the only poem I wrote specifically for the book; late in the game I decided I wanted an invocation to begin the text.

With the new book I am working on, I’ve been thinking of it as a book from the start and I’ve been aware of the main idea the book is playing with from the start. In many ways, this seems much easier, but I do worry that this method might be too artificial in some way, that the poems will be too stilted together.

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

I appreciated that KMA Sullivan, YesYes’s publisher, said from the beginning that she wanted my input, but her job was to make final decisions. That took a lot of pressure off; I felt free to say what I liked and what I didn’t, but I didn’t have to make any final decisions. Alban Fisher was the designer and I loved the fonts and designs he used. They were perfect.

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

KMA sent me some artists links to check out. Eleanor Bennett was one of those and I fell in love with her photographs immediately. KMA contacted her (Eleanor is 17 and lives in England) and sent her some poems; Eleanor graciously offered to take a few pictures for us to look at as possible covers. Kids With Guns (the cover photo) was one of those and both KMA and I thought it was exactly right.. KMA and Alban figured out how to spread it across the cover and how to include the blurbs so the picture could be clean. I had asked about having a textural, non-smooth cover and they made that happen as well.

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’m not a big sender-out of poems. If people ask, I’m happy to submit stuff when I have it, but it doesn’t really do much for me. I’m interested in books and in readings much more than being in journals. That’s what helps me write and what helps me revise, know what’s working and what isn’t.

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?

Justin Boening was the lead editor for the book and KMA Sullivan also worked a ton with the manuscript. They definitely made it better. We pulled 2 poems out, moved  a couple, and did some line edits. It didn’t feel like too much work but I felt like it made the book much, much better.

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

The book arrived a couple of hours before the launch. There had been a fatal car accident at the head of my road and I was convinced that the FedEx guy wouldn’t be able to get through as the road was closed. Somehow though, he pulled up with the big box that afternoon. It was absolutely a beautiful moment to see them all there. I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to see the real object; it was as emotional and as satisfying as I had hoped. My favorite thing is having a book to read from at events. It makes me happy every time.

   

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 have a couple answers.. Sometimes I say it’s a collection of American voices that aren’t typically heard; other times I say it’s about alternative masculinities. They are both true. I always say it is a very American book.

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

I’ve been lucky enough to do a fair number of readings. YesYes has been very generous with putting together tours and sponsoring readings. We had a launch in Durham, NC, where I lived at the time, at the Pinhook, a great local music venue. It featured all kinds of local artists- Jim Haverkamp showed his amazing film, When Walt Whitman Was A Little Girl, poet Chris Vitiello gave a reading while dressed as the Pope, the local slam team performed, and shirlette ammons tore the house down; we even had a house band to play all the artists on and off the stage. It was a great way to welcome the book into its Durham community. 

Since then, I’ve done 2 YesYes tours, the first with Ocean Vuong and Keith Leonard in Portland OR, the second with Matt Hart, Phillip B Williams, and Roger Reeves in Oakland and San Francisco. For both, we lived and read together each night for about a week. Both were beautiful experiences. It’s so special to get to hear the same poets several nights in a row, especially when you are spending a lot of time together otherwise. I’ve done lots of other readings in support of the book; one of my favorites was at Dorothea Lasky’s Multifarious Array at Pete’s Candy Store.

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

I suppose I knew it already, but books are a slow process. Oprah doesn’t call on Day 2 and even though the thing you have worked on forever and somehow miraculously made exists, the world does not stop to notice. You have to show up and read and bring books and be a professional. Write poems because you love to write poems, not because you think poems will make you famous or popular or loved.

Are there any new writing projects in the works?

I’m working on a new book, right now called Stay. It explores what it feels like when the world and its people seem to be moving further apart. That’s what interests me about America right now: the way way drones and fear and Guantanamo and inequalities make us drift apart, make us feel more alone, less connected. It currently consists of 2 long poems with 10-20 short poems sandwiched in the middle and isn’t nearly as didactic as that description makes it sound.

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

Absolutely. I think poets and poetry have real work to do in the world; when that work isn’t done, I think our world gets worse. I’ve never understood why poets aren’t invited on CNN to talk about things like the housing crisis and the World Cup and Flight 103 and drone strikes and everything else that captures our attention.. Our job as poets (I think) is to look into, travel into ideas and report back what we see. If I was Poet Laureate, I’d work on trying to restore the public job of poets; this is also why we need poets that do other things besides teach other poets.

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Tanya Olson lives in Silver Spring, Maryland and is a Lecturer in English at University of Maryland, Baltimore County (UMBC). Her first book, Boyishly, was published by YesYes Books in 2013 and was awarded a 2014 American Book Award. She has always won the Discovery/Boston Review Prize and was named a Lambda Emerging Writers Fellow by the Lambda Literary Foundation.  

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#85 - Andrew McFadyen-Ketchum

How often had you sent out Ghost Gear before it was chosen as a finalist for the 2014 Miller Williams Arkansas Poetry Prize?

Man, I sent it out for a while. I “finished” my first workable draft of Ghost Gear in the winter of 2007/2008, a year and a half after entering the MFA Program at Southern Illinois University Carbondale. I of course believed it really was finished finished at the time and sent it to fifteen prizes that year and sent to the same fifteen prizes for the next five years until it finally got picked up in the winter of 2012/2013. I revised it every single time it got rejected, and it got better every time. While all the rejection was heartbreaking (the book wasn’t a finalist or honorable mention or anything like that for any of the prizes until the winter it was taken), the process worked. It’s a much better book now than when I first started submitting to prizes, and I am grateful for that. Could it have happened a little sooner? Sure. But that’s life.

I’m now closing in on finishing my second book. I have what I like to call my first “non-shitty” draft, which means it’s not bad but it’s not particularly good. I’m not sure how to proceed. Send it to contests again and revise it every time it gets rejected until, at long last, it gets picked up? Or revise it on my own like crazy for several years and then send it out? The writing and publishing of books is a mysterious craft. I’m excited to see what it teaches me this go-round.

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

The backbone of Ghost Gear is five versifications of stories my father told of his childhood (and, in the final two poems, of my childhood and his fatherhood). “Ghost Gear” recounts his near-death by tidal wave while tramell-net fishing in Alaska when he was in college. Ghost gear is a term for dilapidated nets and riggings and other such gear deep-sea fisherman used to discard in the ocean. All that gear drifted down into the ocean and caused all sorts of havoc. It was really big in the news ten years or so ago and the practice was made illegal. This notion of that which we believe we’ve discarded continuing to do its work below us is the controlling metaphor of the book: each poem an artifact of the past and present and future tangled up in the mind and body. I have to give my friend and colleague Curtis Hessel credit for making this connection for me after I told him I had changed the title to The Ever-chamber,” the second father-story poem. That title would work too, but Ghost Gear is infinitely better. I owe him a kiss on the lips for that and a punch in the gut for just about everything else!

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 only sent to contests. Contests I really, really wanted to win. Contests that had published awesome books before me, books that taught me how to write poems. I did this because I felt it would give the book a little something to stand on. Who knows if this makes any difference or not. I didn’t actually win the Miller Williams. I got close but not quite. Luckily, Arkansas publishes the Miller Williams Finalists as well. I haven’t noticed that the contest makes any difference but being able to say I was published by the University of Arkansas Press clearly makes a difference. So here’s what I can offer: send your book to presses who have published books you love. Contests. Open submissions. Whatever it takes, it’s the press that makes the difference. I suppose that if I’d won the National Poetry Series, I might see things a little differently. But there are only a few prizes out there for first books (the Miller Williams is an open prize) anyone really cares about, and Ghost Gear is getting out there because I’m putting the work in and because it was published by an established and beloved press, not because it almost won a prize.

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

I just went back in my files. There are 97 drafts of Ghost Gear. I didn’t realize it was that many. Each was completed after the book was rejected, and I often revised more than once between rejections. Sometimes it looks fairly similar; sometimes it looks radically different. The poems themselves “look” more or less the same on the page, but the lines themselves are pretty radically different every five drafts or so, and the order of the poems is all over the place. I started chronological, then played with themes, then put the longest poem at the opening of the book and then moved it back to the end. “Singing” was always the first poem. “Ghost Gear” was always the second, third, or fourth, but everything after that was up for grabs it appears. The greatest amount of revision is in the poems themselves. Boy did they get better over time. I honestly can’t recall what it was like putting the book together that much. I remember swimming in the dark a lot. I sort of did it with a blindfold on. Sure, I had some idea of how the poems worked together, but I don’t think that became clear until two or three years after that initial draft. I had the backbone of the book in the father-story poems, thank goodness, and placed all the other poems around that backbone in an almost infinite shuffle. I also remember having a lot of help from Judy Jordan and from friends at my MFA like Jenna Bazzell, Martin Call, and Alexander Lumans. I owe them more than I can ever repay. I think understanding how to put a book together is probably a life-long pursuit for someone like me. I am at all times perplexed by…virtually everything around me. That’s why I write poems I think, to try to understand this life and the things in it a little better. I think I have a better grasp of how my second book works. Maybe the third will be a little easier, but I don’t put too much pressure on myself in that regard. I trust the process and just stumble forward and backward and in circles from there until things start to make sense. I think the process of assembling Ghost Gear was more the product of rejection than knowing what the hell I was doing and not know, this may sound strange, what I wanted to do. In the end, I settled on a more or less chronological structure. There’s a story told via the arc of the book that isn’t told in the poems themselves and people are catching on to it. But damn it took a long, long time to find that arc.

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

I was lucky enough to be given almost 100% control of the cover, which is beyond perfect. If you’ve read the book, you know the cover is exactly what the book is about. It’s an original piece of art I commission from Siolo Thompson, an artist out of Seattle who was a friend of a friend at the time. When I contacted her with the request for the cover, she asked me to send her three poems. I sent “Singing,” “Ghost Gear,” and “The Ever-Chamber,” and the cover, more-or-less as is, was what she sent back. I was just blown away. How someone I didn’t even know could read those poems and come up with that cover seemed impossible, but I think it’s a testament to the words and to her skill as an artist and reader. I couldn’t be happier with it. As for all the other design aspects, I had no input and really didn’t want to interfere with the good folks at Arkansas. It was the right move. They made a beautiful, flawless 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?

Nah. I just wanted people to read my shit and sent out like crazy until all the poems were taken. I didn’t feel the need to publish the entire book in order to get it published. That’s the nice thing about prizes: most of that info is omitted from your submission. Some of the prizes do require this information. While I respect the presses that do, that doesn’t make much sense to me.

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 went back and forth with my editor, Enid Shomer, quite a bit on the final poem, “First Catch,” but the rest of the book was pretty easy to finalize. She has a great eye, and most of her suggestions made perfect sense, including cutting a monstrous poem that I wrote for the second book but felt compelled (for reasons I’m not entirely sure of) to include in Ghost Gear. The second she said we should cut it, I agreed, which I think helped ease the rest of the process for both of us. I am so very happy Arkansas actually edits their books. Some presses send off finalists to a judge, the judge selects a winner, and they publish that book without any further editing and even without copy-editing/proofreading. This is obviously a bad idea. I think I probably would have hired an outside editor to look at Ghost Gear if it were selected for a prize sans editor.

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

I remember that entire day. It was long as all hell. I knew the book was incoming on a UPS truck but had no idea when it would arrive, so I employed a few friends to distract me, hopping from bar to bar in my current home place of Denver, Colorado. When my designer texted me “Did you see the book yet?” and I texted back, “I’m waiting for it to arrive.” and he replied, “It’s waiting for you at your door,” I left the bar without paying the tab or telling my friends and raced for home.

When I got home, I took my time opening the slim vanilla envelope only to find the book wrapped in paper like a gift. I took even more time opening it from there. When it finally emerged from the packaging, I didn’t cry like I expected. I just held it and thanked it for coming and apologized to it for not making it sooner.

Then I went back out to show it to my friends who were waiting for me at the bar. Then I cried, right there in the middle of an NBA game, and received a lot of pats on the backs and lots of booze from lost of people I didn’t know and a few I did. There are two days in my life I’d go to war for: meeting my wife in a dive bar and meeting Ghost Gear for the first time.

   

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?”

Ghost Gear is a book about survival. The father-story poems tell the story of my father’s rural survival while the rest of the poems tell the story of my more urban survival. I grew up in a very rough neighborhood in Nashville, Tennessee. I’ve got matching scars underneath the fur of each eyebrow and countless scars on my knuckles from all the fights I was in as a kid. My dad’s scars include rope burns from the fishing nets in “Ghost Gear” and a burn on his knee from a forest fire he fought with his brother in Oregon. The book is about how we earn such scars and how they make us who we are. It’s a bildungsroman, a coming-of-age book of tall tales that are often true but are more true on an emotional scale than a factual one. Based on actual events but not factual in every little detail. You know…big fish stories. I suppose most first books are like this. But I really don’t care about doing something new; I care about being original in my own right. I wrote Ghost Gear. Not someone else. If it sounds like other books, I wear that as a badge of honor. It is definitely doing things in its own way, and I think there are people out there who see that.

What have you been doing to promote Ghost Gear, and what have those experiences been like for you?

Lord, what haven’t I been doing? I’ve been on a surprisingly large book tour since the book came out. Something like 35 readings in ten states so far. I really didn’t see that coming, but I work cheap, and I’m excited to visit classrooms and work with poets of all shapes and sizes and to share my work with people wherever they’ll have me. I’ve also work with quite a few writers as an editor and publisher and, thus, have relationships with writers all over the place who I think are excited for me and the book.

My first reading from the book was at AWP on the day the book was technically released. Afterward, at the book signing, I gave away buttons with either an image of the cover or an image of a badass unicorn on it. Most people took the unicorn button! It was a joke, of course, and people though it was fun and picked up a copy o the book as well. Who knew?

I also threw a big ass book release party with an open bar at a swanky art gallery where I live in Denver on my own dime and am throwing a release party in my hometown of Nashville in mid July at Parnassus Books, the only independently owned bookstore in Nashville that exclusively sells new books.

If someone asks me to do an interview (thank you, Keith!) or a reading or a radio show or a workshop, I always say yes, but I never try to “sell” or promote the book. I just share my excitement about it and finally having something to show for all this work I’ve been doing since, hell, virtually since puberty.

I’ve been writing poems since I was 13 years old and turned 33 a month after the book came out. It took 20 years to make this thing. 20 years. That’s a lifetime for most species on this planet, and many people never realize their dreams. I get really emotional when I think about that. For a long time there I was terrified I’d never publish a book, and I think I had good reason to fear this. Now that it’s happened, that’s all I really care about: it happened and now I’m having fun with it, which naturally translates into my promoting the book. I have a ton of energy, I love to travel and meet new people, my wife is awesome, and I love, love, love to talk about poetry, be it mine or anyone else’s, so this is really the best time in my life. I’m having a great time.

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

Honestly I got great advice the entire time. Countless people have been in my ear for years: poets, fiction writers, carpenters, chefs, politicians, family members, people I meet on the light rail, students, friends, voiceovers, Kevin Garnett…the list goes on an on. I believe that anyone doing good work is an artist and actively seek out artists every single second of my waking life, even if I never actually meet these people, even if I just see them in a movie or dunking a basketball. The message is always the same: WORK. Don’t talk. Work. Talk ONLY when you work—not if you work, when you work. If you put the work in, if you’re persistent, if you don’t give up, you will get there.

That said, here’s what I’ll say: Learn to take a break. You have time. Most people don’t just up and die out of nowhere. Statistically, most of us live long lives. I overworked in grad school. I literally wrote every weekday for three years. It was too much. I should have listened to my mentors who said I needed to breathe, that my brain needed oxygen, that my heart and soul needed a vacation every few months. Now that I have a book out and another almost finished (again, whatever the hell that means), I finally feel that I have time to, you know, not write. This is not sacrilege; this is common sense. I get a little tired of writers saying you have to write everyday to be a writer. That’s kind of like fighting fire with a bazooka. The sentiment is fine, but the reality isn’t quite there. Taking time not to write doesn’t mean I’m not writing. Of course not! I have to write to feed my body and soul. I write every other day on average, but I’m learning to stop worrying so much about not working, something I wish I’d known more about when I was working like a dog. Sure, it worked, but I can’t prove the book got published because I worked my fingers to the bone. So work hard but don’t work so hard you hate yourself or start gaining weight or have to do drugs to sleep. Listen to your body. Take a break when it demands one and trust the page will speak to you when you come back.

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

Anything can.

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Andrew McFadyen-Ketchum’s first book of poems, Ghost Gear, was released in 2014 with the University of Arkansas Press. His anthology, Apocalypse Now: Poems and Prose from the End of Days, was released in 2012; he is series editor of the Floodgate Poetry Series: Three Chapbooks by Three Poets in a Single Volume; and co-editor of Warning! Poems May Be Longer Then They Appear: An Anthology of Long-ish Poems, forthcoming in 2015. Andrew is also a freelance editor, Founder and Managing Editor of PoemoftheWeek.org, Acquisitions Editor for Upper Rubber Boot Books, Contributing Editor for Southern Indiana Review, and teaches college writing in Denver, CO. Andrew's work recently appears or is forthcoming in journals such as The Writer's Chronicle, Blackbird, Glimmer Train, InsideHigherEd.com, and Missouri Review. Read his work at AndrewMK.com.

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#84 - Tyler Mills

How often had you sent out Tongue Lyre before it was chosen for the 2011 Crab Orchard Series in Poetry First Book Award from Southern Illinois University Press?

I sent the manuscript to a few presses and contests each year after I completed my MFA in 2008. The manuscript wasn’t ready to be a book that first year, or even the second, but increasing its readership in this way helped me think about what it meant for the individual poems to become a book as I continued to revise them. I gradually cut and added poems, clarified the language, and re-ordered areas of the manuscript between 2008 and 2011.

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

Initially, the manuscript was called Tongue. Jon Tribble suggested that I might think about adding a second word to the title: we were phone conferencing about edits and brainstorming possibilities, and “lyre” was the winner. (One of the poems in the book is called “Cleaning Out the Lyre.”)

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 first began sending out the manuscript that became Tongue Lyre, I didn’t know all that much about the publishing industry for poetry. I sent individual poems out to journals that my university library had in their periodicals room, and I read calls for submissions in the Writer’s Chronicle for contests. I learned as I read, and I researched presses that published books I enjoyed spending time with. But I wasn’t as hooked into “the scene” as many MFA students seem to be now. I didn’t know about many other ways of having a first manuscript picked up other than through a prize, since most of the publisher’s calls for first books that I was seeing at the time were linked with first-book contests.

What advice would I give poets sending out their book now?

I’ve recently screened poetry manuscripts for a national prize, and it has been interesting being on the other side of the table. It made me think of the post-MFA me, and the manuscript I was circulating a bit too early at the time. I suppose on the one hand, I want to tell poets to send their book to as many places as possible. But on the other hand, I would also advise poets to ask themselves: “Is this manuscript really ready to be a book, or do I just really want it to be one?” Many of the manuscripts I screened were interesting and demonstrated a lot of skill, but as a whole, they weren’t coming together as a book quite yet. There is no prescription for when a book “is finished”: each book is different. But I would advise poets not to spend money on the contest fee unless they absolutely, honestly believe the manuscript is ready to be a book. That means making sure that on your end you have done all you can to make the manuscript read as a finished whole. I would also say that while Facebook can be a great way to connect with people and learn about news, I would warn poets not to let it trap them into rushing their work. Social networks can be great, but they can also exert a pressure to produce, as though you have to keep up. It’s important to look inward not get swept up in it.

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

Countless, obsessive revisions. I mean that. I lost count. Tongue Lyre builds off the structure of the Odyssey, which is a frame narrative. It drove me crazy—a good kind of crazy—figuring out how to incorporate that structure into the arc of my book. I re-arranged the poems many, many times. And the individual poems? Some have been through 40 revisions. Some many more. I have boxes of old notebooks and papers, and I recycled some of the preliminary hard copies of the manuscript recently because I just can’t hold onto all of that paper anymore.

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

The press did a beautiful job with the book. I suggested some cover images, and some were suggested to me, and the designer did an amazing thing with the image we decided on.

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?

Poets should stop worrying about this. It seems like there’s a mentality that once all the poems are taken, the book is “done.” Even if every single poem in a manuscript is published, that does not mean that a poet’s book is finished—no matter where all these poems have been taken. Think of a book like a giant poem. Ask yourself, “What does my giant poem want to be? How is it holding together, as a giant poem?”

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?

My first inclination after Tongue Lyre was taken was to re-do the whole thing. I actually ripped the manuscript apart and spent an entire weekend rewriting it. The result? A terrible, terrible draft. I never sent that version to the press (I doubt they would have accepted it). I think that because I felt like a younger artist-“me” was behind the earliest drafts of some of the poems, I thought I had to make the project match the artist-“me” that answered the phone the day Jon called me with the wonderful news. But both “me’s” are not all that different, I’ve come to realize.

I ended up tweaking minor things in the manuscript before sending it to Jon, and then Jon and I talked about a range of edits to the poems that made a huge difference, but that were akin to taking a tiny brush to a painting to clean off the surface rather than soaking a rag in turpentine and wiping the canvas down with it.

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

  

It was surreal. And amazing. I was very happy: I couldn’t believe it existed. But it was also a little weird, seeing a box of reproductions of the thing that I felt like I made only one of.

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 say it is a book-length sequence that gives voice to the myth of Philomela, whose tongue was cut from her mouth after she was raped. But it is also a book about representation in art and music that was deeply influenced by Joyce’s Ulysses. (An Odyssey series of poems threads throughout the book.) 

What have you been doing to promote Tongue Lyre, and what have those experiences been like for you?

I’ve been reading from it a fair bit, in Chicago where I live (at Danny’s and the Dollhouse, for instance) and also in other cities and towns (the Writer’s Center in Bethesda, MD; the AWP Bookfair in Boston, MA; the Stadler Center in Lewisburg, PA; Bates College in Lewiston, ME; the Monsters of Poetry Reading Series in Madison, WI; the Southern Festival of Books in Nashville, TN; the Women Write Resistance AWP Off-Site in Seattle, WA; the Split This Rock festival in Washington, DC, among others). Each reading is very different. The audience brings its own energy to the space. It doesn’t matter if two people show up or if the room is full: I try to think about how I can make the poems come to life for the people in the room each time I read.

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

Not to worry so much before giving a reading. I can get pretty anxious about it the day of. And also that things like this—this interview—take time. Once the book is in the world, a lot more of your time will be dedicated to talking about it in a public way. It’s energizing, and an honor. But it does take time.

Are there any new writing projects in the works?

I’m working on my next manuscript right now. I don’t want to say anything more about it at the moment and risk jinxing it. The manuscript is similar to Tongue Lyre in some ways, but in others it is very, very different.

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

Yes. When I’m 85, I might be able to start answering this question... 

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Tyler Mills is the author of Tongue Lyre, winner of the 2011 Crab Orchard Series in Poetry First Book Award (SIU Press 2013). Her poetry has recently appeared or is forthcoming in Blackbird, The Believer, Poetry, and Boston Review, and her essays have appeared or is forthcoming in The Robert Frost Review and The Writer's Chronicle. She has been the recipeient of work-study scholarships from the Bread Loaf Writers' Conference and the Vermont Studio Center, and she is editor-in-chief of The Account: A Journal of Poetry, Prose, and Thought. She lives in Chicago, where she is a PhD candidate in creative writing at the University of Illinois-Chicago.

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