So, one of my major activities of the past two years has been (again) whipping my poetry manuscript into shape. It was chapbook length; then at some point I decided to push on through to book length. As of this moment, it's 61 pages of poems. Considering it contains poems from as far back as 1999, I'm a little embarrassed that 61 pages is it. But I've been living along the way, you see.
Last fall I entered a book contest that I thought I had a pretty good shot of placing in, if not winning. Neither happened, and I was off kilter for at least a week. Then I remembered what the contest runner had asked me prior, which was simply if I had a completed manuscript. He simply encouraged me to enter because he'd seen my work in workshops and was impressed. That's all.
Anyway. These contests, after a certain point, are about taste and preference. It says nothing (or very little) about my poetic ability that I didn't place. Being a poetry editor for two different publications now, I understand the dilemma. After a time, the mss's that rise to the top just have that inescapable something, that buzz or unifying vision, perhaps. Perhaps a compelling perspective, or a fresh take on language use or poetic form. And how is this defined? Largely through the tastes of the one reading.
With this in mind, I don't need (and can't afford) to enter every good-looking contest willy-nilly. The writing's the thing, and the submitting. I'm eager but not desperate to get a book published. Good thing I don't teach at a four-year.
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