I Read Only Some Chapters of Jane Friedman’s Book, The Business of Being A Writer:

 

I was sort of reading Friedman's book and wondering if there was anything helpful for poets? And the answer is "not much." I found myself skipping over most of the chapters, and I started wondering why I was not taught about the "business of writing" in my graduate program. We didn't even discuss how to get published. on agents. There was a lot of crying and compliments and hugging and perhaps some posing, but no practical information about the business of being a poet.

I do like how Friedman criticizes literary publishers. In response to the concern that the demand for literature is disappearing, Friedman asserts that demand is still there but publishers need to realize the "distribution and discovery" is no longer dependent on publishers--due to social media we can all find that great writer. But what poets are being published and awarded with prizes and those elitist jobs in academia where you can teach one or two classes and spend time writing and traveling?

It feels like a popularity contest where the good-looking and funny ones get it all.

For a brief time I was motivated to build a platform, to draw in readers (fans), but I lost interest. I am now grading essays (yes, I am teaching two composition classes this summer--in addition to the five writing classes I teach every semester), reading John Warner's book, Why They Can't Write, and working here and there on a memoir I have been trying to write for about three years now.

After Spending Time Revising A Poem Today, I Receive A Rejection:

I just received one of those "form letter" rejections from a small, independent press. I was a semi-finalist along with twenty or so other poets. Again. I have been sending this poetry manuscript out for over a year now. It has some poems in it there were published in journals so I am not a novice to all of this. I have been writing and publishing for years. There are two chapbooks of my poetry out there in the world (one is out of print so I guess it is now considered "rare").

And I studied. I was in an M.A. writing program at University of New Mexico (in fact Joy Harjo was my thesis director). I have spent a good amount of time with other writers, working on my craft. I thought this time I had a really good shot of getting my manuscript accepted for publication. But it did not happen. One of the editors did send an encouraging handwritten note, and that was it.

So what am I doing wrong? Am I doing anything wrong? Is it time to self-publish?

A little voice reminds me, "Self-publishing will not help you advance with your academic career. It has no value at all in academia." Oh yes, there certainly would be some investigation into that checking to see if my publication is legitimate.

Today I don't feel legitimate. I feel again like that girl sitting in the back of the classroom being told my lines are too long and the poem just goes on and on.

Earning Tenure After 25 years: Looking for Other Unicorns

 

My travels in the world of academia has not been a simple, straight line from one destination to the other. There have been a lot of detours along the way. Some of it had to do with being a single parent and raising my two children in New Mexico. I was away from family and so had little to no support really. My primary concern after earning my Ph.D. was to simply get a job and keep that job. I did not want to leave New Mexico to take a college position anywhere; I had children who were rooted in New Mexico. So I detoured into high school teaching. That went on for so many years. Too many years.

Finally after my son graduated from high school, I was ready to accept a tenure track position at a university. I left high school teaching and have not regretted it. I do miss the younger students who seem to make an emotional connection to you in the classroom or with the subject matter, but I don't miss the lack of respect from some administrators, parents, students, and even other teachers. I don't miss the emotional drain and stress of having to be responsible for approximately 120 students a year, and the feeling that at the end of the day you still have piles of work to get through before tomorrow. I don't miss going a year or two without writing a poem. I was just so tired all the time.

It was never enough--never enough time, never enough support, never enough money, etc. My hours were long--working seven days a week. And no one cared if I published another word anywhere. I needed to be in that classroom at 7:30 in the morning or else.

This summer during a time of eclipses (solar and lunar) I received the letter I have been waiting for. The provost sent it stating how they (the people who evaluated me every step of the way) were impressed with my accomplishments as an educator, scholar, and poet. Suddenly and finally it was enough.

I just read a poem, "Astronomers Added The Unicorn to the Orion Constellation Family for Completeness," by the poet Jennifer Martelli. In the poem a character, Olivia, claims, "We're unicorns, you know, Italian women who write, we're rare." I held my breath for a second when I read that. Yes, that is true. Wandering through the woods, trying to find other unicorns can be a difficult business, but I am ready to walk into that darkness and ask "Where are you?"