First the bad news. Actually, I doubt this will really come as news, but I've been remiss in not making a formal announcement. The New Hampshire Review is dead (though past issues will remain online indefinitely.) I held out hope too long that somehow I'd be able to make time for editing, but in reality I'm barely able to keep on top of grad school, two part-time jobs, and single parenting. I truly regret not arriving at that conclusion sooner, and I'm sorry I haven't had time to communicate my decision personally to people who have sent work. I plan to post a notice on the website too, but finding the password is going to require a little digging, and I didn't want to delay any longer.
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One of the nails in that coffin is having recently learned that I have Attention Deficit Disorder. Cornell's counseling office referred me to someone who specializes in this sort of thing, and after extensive testing he determined that my issues with concentration, organization, memory, etc. are not--as I was told for years by other doctors--emotional, but neurological. I've been taking Concerta for a couple weeks now, and it does seem to be helping more than anything else I've tried, but I'm still trying to sort out what the medication can and can't do.
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There are a few conversations in the air about the economy of poetry, and I suddenly find myself really annoyed at the idea that trying to scrounge a few dollars for one's work is a bad thing. Maybe it's because I've been hanging out with fiction writers this term--people who use words like "advance," and can look forward to multiplying page rates. Or maybe it's because I actually do get paid for non-creative writing that's relatively insignificant to me as a human being.
Funny how opposing views on the matter lead to exactly the same disdain for putting a price on one's work. That is, both those who accept the minimal value established by the free market and those who believe poems are quasi-sacred (and therefore priceless) tend to support the idea that poetry not only is, but should be a "gift economy."
The problem, as I see it playing out in my own life, is having anything left to give after the bills are paid and food is on the table. While the gift economy model may work well for some people, it's a hard life for others. Every hour I spend earning money elsewhere is an hour during which I'm actively suppressing the creative impulse in order to get shit done. And given the extent of my responsibilities, those hours add up fast.
I can hear the arguments now: But so-and-so does x and y and z, and still manages to write good poems in his/her free time. That's great for people who can manage it, but as a universal model it reduces poetry to a hobby.
That's not to say I don't respect poets who want nothing to do with the current system of contests, grants, awards, etc. and are finding other ways to make their poetry happen. Nor is it to deny that there are people in the biz whose primary talent is their capacity for relentless self-promotion. But I do think that when the issue is raised, the complexities of individual creative processes, motivations, and resources are sometimes disregarded in favor of arguments for a single most dignified way to do publishing.
As a struggling single mother working on her first book, I have to admit that by the time I have a manuscript in hand, my first impulse will probably be to see whether I can buy myself some additional writing time and a comfortable reading chair with it before I explore the gift route. Is that going to influence the way I write? Hell no. I already write for money and it's not nearly as fulfilling as sitting down to create something. In fact, I've developed a strong antipathy toward the pressures exerted by all schools and movements over the past few months, and as I see it, writing for editorial affirmation--mainstream or otherwise--is just another form of drudgery.
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Final note: One of my poems is going to appear in a chapbook printed by Cornell and distributed free to NYC high school students during National Poetry Month. My contribution is gratis, of course. :-)

Comments
Hi Ginger. I hear what you're saying -- the "gift economy" is hard on everybody (not equally, of course, clearly it's harder on some more than others). I see it as reflecting the truth of the poetry situation. As for things like grants and awards, those are gifts too. Gifts by foundations or universities or other types of organizations. As for contests, you'll likely spend more money entering them before (if) you win, there's exceptions, but those are exceptions. I spent well over $1000 on contests in three years after I graduated from MFA -- and I had nothing to show for it, except less money and time.
I don't see anything wrong with trying to make a living off of one's art. I just don't see it as especially feasible, as a poet (you can't compare your situation to the fiction writers, it's two totally different planets -- their art has the potential to earn a profit).
I don't think the gift economy reduces poetry to a hobby, I believe it elevates it into a calling.
Time and energy are also great gifts, sometimes bigger gifts. As you well know, the time and energy you spent with TNHR was a big gift -- and right now it's not something you can maintain, which is understandable and nobody can begrudge you for that. I, too, have had to cut back considerably this year due to my own circumstances -- and so I, too, can gift back myself some time for my own projects. The thing about giving, if you give too much and indiscriminately, sadly certain people will take it all and think nothing of it.
When someone refers to the "gift economy" -- I don't take that so much as a philosophy or position, but the reality. If the only books that were published were the ones that someone thought could make a profit, if only the magazines and presses that could support themselves with advertising and subscriptions existed . . . poetry would hardly be available to anyone -- and likely what dire poetry could exist in those parameters. The gift economy is how most poetry finds an audience.
Another reality is that everyone has to find a way to make a living, to eat, to live, to survive. Hence, it's probably good to remember it is a gift economy, so one doesn't unexpectedly starve to death.
Best,
Reb
Posted by: Reb | March 5, 2008 01:20 AM
Hey Reb,
I agree completely that "gift economy" is an accurate description for the current state of things. And I certainly don't have any grand scheme for changing that.
For the most part, I was thinking about/responding to two things: Jessica Smith's decision to charge a subscription fee for access to her private blog entries (http://diypublishing.blogspot.com/), and a post over at Ploughshares (http://pshares.blogspot.com/) regarding University of Arkansas' decision to add a $5K cash prize to their book contest (and whether or not that makes the contest more attractive.)
In the first case, I don't see selling blog entries as essentially different than selling handmade crafts at a fair--i.e. what's the problem? In the second case, if all contests charge reading fees, but only some offer cash prizes, I think yeah, the latter might be a bit more attractive.
I guess the third thing on my mind is that over the past several months I've met a few people who've won big prizes, and I've yet to see any pitchforks or horns. Kindness, generosity, encouragement, yes. Imperfection too.
All of which leads me to feel increasingly skeptical of arguments that try to define what sort of people poets should be or how they should act.
Posted by: Ginger | March 5, 2008 10:00 PM
I just tried posting a comment, and ran into the blog's security settings telling me that the comment post failed.
Posting this here as a test, to see if it will let me in.
Posted by: Lyle Daggett | March 5, 2008 10:32 PM
Well, that one worked. I'll try to condense here--
I've worked for a number of years in corporate offices, sitting in cubicles typing on computers and talking on phones. From time to time I've been able to squeeze in a little writing while I've been at work (depending on the circumstances of whatever job I had at the time), though for the most part I've done what writing I've done after work, in the evenings, on weekends and days off. Or, during periods of time when I've been unemployed (which clearly doesn't work as a longterm solution).
I'd love to be able to come to work at an office and just write poems. The Poetry Office. I've tried to figure out if such a thing would conceivably be possible in the real world, have made tentative gestures at thinking through some of the math (how many poems to sell, for how much apiece, in order to pay a living wage to five poets or ten poets, plus pay office rent, electric bills, etc.). So far I can't get close with the math.
But I daydream about it from time to time. Someday, maybe, one day.
Thanks for posting this. (And, in case my original comment winds up posting, sorry about the duplicate comment post.)
Posted by: Lyle Daggett | March 5, 2008 10:39 PM
Oh, yeah, I know a number of people who've won contests too -- lucky mofos, I say. Well, maybe not quite so lucky. Lucky with the first book, but in many cases they're SOL and in the same place they were before with their second book. Aside from the cost, it's a screwed up system. It's often a way for presses to raise money to publish the books they really want to publish -- more times than not, they're not interested in publishing future work by their winners. Or the contests aren't even set up to publish additional books. And contests tend to overlook certain types of books for other types. The contest system is flawed on many many levels. That's not a judgement on the contest winners, but contests themselves.
I've been thinking about the blog subscription issue too (just posted on my blog about it). I don't see anything wrong with it. I think I'm mostly skeptical of its viability.
Posted by: Reb | March 5, 2008 11:05 PM
Good points, Reb. You know what I can't help but think is screwed up? Nearly every Barnes & Noble in the country carries Poetry Magazine, MTV is getting in on first book publishing, and Borders has just started its own poetry contest. YET the poetry shelves of most major bookstores are filled with DEAD PEOPLE!
I wonder if contests aren't partly a result of this absolute failure at the top to appeal to 18-40 year-olds who might actually get excited about living, breathing, relevant-to-their-own-experience-of-the-world poetry, IF it were available for browsing.
An anecdote. One of the tellers at my bank, a person wholly outside the literary world, loves Mary Oliver and a few other canonical poets whose names I don't remember, but he had no idea people still did poetry in America. He was genuinely excited when I told him poetry was more alive than ever, and gave him a few recommendations. (And I'm positive he wasn't just hitting on me.)
If writing poems is the only portal through which the world of contemporary poetry is accessible, is it any wonder that the majority of our audience is other poets? Sure, technology's making independent publication a lot easier, but big money still has quite a stranglehold on visibility.
I'm not suggesting that the potential audience for poetry is anywhere near as large as the audience for chick lit. But what about all those people who enjoy literary fiction and indie films and weird music? Are they actively avoiding poetry, or just bored by what's on their radar?
Posted by: Ginger | March 6, 2008 12:19 AM
I know a lot of fiction writers, smart and talented people, who swear up and down they can't understand poetry. My best guess for why that is would be how it was taught to them in high school, possibly college. When I hold readings at my house, friends of the non-literary type will attend, but they're often totally freaked out (from what should they wear -- to oh my god, what's gonna happen next).
The bookstores carry Poetry because Poetry can afford the distribution. That's the most expensive part of print publishing -- costs more than getting the actual books/magazines printed. Big corporate presses own the rights to most "classics" -- and they too can afford the distribution. New technology like POD is changing that to some degree, but still, a NTM book purchased via Amazon or ordered in a bookstore -- Ingram (the distributor) and the retailer make more from the sale than me (the publisher). At least in my situation, I'm not at the mercy of them ordering 1000 books and returning 998 in torn, tattered, non-resalable condition (without having to pay anything for them). POD is no returns. It also means it's less likely a bookstore will order the books in the first place (unless a customer requests them), but it was already unlikely they were going to order the books anyhow.
Posted by: Reb | March 6, 2008 12:35 AM
I agree with Reb that at least a part of the reason some people (even some writers) say they don't understand poetry, or are even afraid of it, is because of how it was taught to them in high school or college.
Very early on after I started writing poetry (I started when I was 14), I became wary of English class discussions about poetry or specific poems. I'm still wary of it. Although I read poetry voraciously all through high school and college (and still do, of course), I mostly avoided literature classes that dealt with poetry; I filled my lit requirement in high school by taking a class on short stories.
I remember seeing an article a few years back (in Poets & Writers magazine maybe? or someplace that that) talking about poetry publishing and the book business, in which an executive at one of the big bookstore chains commented that although book sales in general had been sagging in recent years, sales of poetry books were on the increase. Somebody out there (or out here) must be reading.
Posted by: Lyle Daggett | March 7, 2008 12:29 AM
Reb, Lyle, I third your thoughts on the way poetry's taught at all levels of education. Personally, I fell in love with poetry way outside an academic context, and when I started "studying" it in school, nothing annoyed me more than teachers who acted as though poetry were admittedly painful, but nonetheless "enriching."
One of the things I'd love to do *someday* is write some poems for the young adult (12-18) set. My daughter's just entering that phase, and I'm not aware of any poetry specifically aimed at her age group in the same way that the YA fiction she loves to read is. In fact, it's something I'd like to start soon, as it's increasingly part of my daily, lived experience. When my daughter and I talk about things that are going on in her life, I vividly recall what it was like to be that age, whereas just a couple years ago the memories were more vague.
Last term, Alice Fulton taught a poetry course called "Close Reading for Writers" and nearly all the fiction MFAs signed up for it. I don't whether that's an anomaly or a sign that things are changing (it was certainly the most non-poets in the course's history), but I suppose it inclines me to feel as though the gap is bridgeable.
Reb, thanks for sharing your insights on the publishing end. I've been hearing a little bit about this too at Epoch. I could be wrong, but it seems to me that those corporate presses are undercutting themselves and the few living poets they do publish by not doing a better job of cultivating an audience. Though the "classics" might be less risky propositions, I can't imagine MTV and Borders are trying to lose money by getting into poetry--which makes me wonder if someone, somewhere sees an opportunity that even poets can't quite fathom yet.
I know that after one of my poems appeared on Poetry Daily, I vanity-Googled myself and found a number of MySpace pages where late high school/early college aged kids has copied the poem (with attribution.) I was surprised and, knowing what poetry meant to me at that age, really touched. Since it's not the audience for whom I was consciously writing, it made me wonder whether the notion of "poetry's audience" could bear rethinking--not at the level of writing, but at the level of getting work out in front of readers to whom it might really matter.
This is all admittedly anecdotal, but since no one's entrusted me with a publishing/marketing budget, I'm free to ask the most impractical 'what if?' questions. :-)
One last idea I'll never have time to execute: a Poetry Daily type website geared toward say 14-25 year olds--a place where amazing work already in circulation could connect with younger readers who don't yet know it exists.
Posted by: Ginger | March 8, 2008 10:28 AM
Sorry to hear about the official demise of TNHR. I enjoyed it.
I think it would be fascinating to attempt to find what resonates with YA when it comes to poetry. I love the idea of finding ways of reaching people who don't currently read poetry. There are ways. I'm sure of it.
Posted by: Julie Carter | March 8, 2008 01:46 PM