Published Poet or Paid Poet?

Gwyneth Box
(An abridged version of this article first appeared in Writers' Forum Dec. 1999 - Jan. 2000)

I’m so excited I have to share the news with someone: I’m a - pause for dramatic effect, make sure you’ve enough breath to do justice to the capitals and speak in tones of awe when you use the phrase - Published Poet.

Yes, I know it’s hard to believe of one so humble as me, but it’s true. I had a letter today which referred to my status (in tones of obvious awe, if not exactly in italics) at least three times. Let me tell you how it all came about, and how you, too, might join these hallowed ranks.

First of all you should enter poetry competitions. Not just any competitions: specifically those which talk of anthologies, particularly "People’s anthologies", or which use phrases such as "You need not be a winner to win!" Of course there may be mention of small cash prizes, but don’t allow yourself to be taken in: this is not the prime motive for entering the competition, bear in mind those magic initials PP, imagine signing your letters: Your Name Here (PP).

Of course if you are a secretary and are used to signing pp The Boss’s Name Here, you may not see the same magic, but then you must think of the phrase in its entirety: Published Poet. Doesn’t it ring with alliterative promise? Hear those voiceless bilabial plosive p’s, the sibilant quality of the palatal alveolar fricative sh sound, the final voiceless plosive alveolar t. Can you sleep at night knowing that such distinction is within your reach and you are not doing your all to achieve it?

I entered such a competition some months ago. I think the idea was to find a National Poet - how grand that sounds! This particular competition was free, but you may have to risk the outlay of a few pounds in entrance fees. (Just repeat those magic words to yourself: Published Poet. You’ll soon see that it’s worth the investment.)

The competition organisers were actually very quick to make a decision. I hadn’t won. However, and this is where the clever bit happens, they were "so impressed" by one of my entries that they wanted to "include it in a showcase publication of the best work of around 90 poets" that they had decided to publish. They assured me that my work deserved this chance to "reach the attention of agents, publishers and the general public - and thus achieve widespread appreciation."

All this was presented very professionally: they enclosed proofs for checking, together with a full colour copy of the cover of the book, (showing its price of nearly £20) and quoting an ISBN. I was under no obligation to purchase, but as a contributor was entitled to a 50% discount should I wish to do so.

Vanity of vanities; I was tempted and I fell. I even went so far as to order two copies.

The copies arrived today in the post, with a covering letter which made due reference to my new status as Published Poet. I admit to being disappointed.

That line about "…the best work…" should have warned me if I’d thought about it. I actually didn’t consider my own poem one of my best pieces. To be honest I sent it off with two others simply because the competition was free and these were poems I had available which conformed to the length requirements. Why should I expect the other contributors to do otherwise?

Reading through the book - which you’d have to be mad to pay £20 for as it’s only the size of a Reader’s Digest and far less interesting - I am embarrased by the company I keep. Poetry is a personal matter, but I am less than flattered to be seen with the nine-year-old whose Mummy says she was born with a pen in her hand and who has been writing poetry since she was six. I shan’t query what she did with the pen for the first six years. Personally I’d have given her wax crayons and finger paints, but I’m probably a bit of a traditionalist. Nor am I impressed by the lady who claims to have been writing for three years and have written "about a dozen" poems. (Though I must admit that if she’s had two of them published, as she claims, she must be doing something right.)

Of course I’ve realised now that the whole reason for the anthology is to sell copies of it to the contributors. I don’t imagine many book shops stocking it, and I for one won’t have the gall to ask my local library to spend its limited resources on a copy: they’d do better buying a few Mills and Boone, I fear.

The other reason is to sell a publishing service to those poets who are disappointed with the result and think they’d like to see their own anthology produced. (At least that way you know who you’ll be seen with.) The publishers assure me that I should "seriously consider going into print" perhaps with a "small volume of my best work". Personally I thought a large volume of my worst might be a better bet, but I suppose they know what they’re talking about, after all they are professionals. I wonder if they sent the same letter to all contributors including the lady who’d written twelve poems? The concept of a "slim volume" takes on a new (smaller) dimension.

It’s true that the prices quoted are comparatively reasonable for vanity publishing, and the service offered seems to be relatively complete. (Though they do specifically state that marketing is not included.) But I object to the idea of paying £45 for an ISBN which the Writers’ and Artists’ Yearbook tells me can be obtained free.

This is not the only offer of publication I have received, although I did manage to avoid one similar embarrassing entanglement. Again it was a competition entry, this time with major prizes (£2000 first prize). The information leaflet talked of a proposed anthology and stated that "…your poem may be selected for inclusion…" What it didn’t say is that you would be offered no choice in the matter.

When I heard nothing by the date for notification of winners, I sent my poem elswhere. This was unfortunate, as six weeks later I was sent an order form for the Grand Millennium Anthology which I was a contributor to. The letter was sent to my address in Spain by second class post so I’m surprised it ever arrived. I wrote back by return explaining the situation and asking for more information: all I knew was that the book cost £23, was to be a limited edition and orders had to be placed before it was sent to print.

I received a brusque letter in reply which instead of telling me more about the anthology, and apologising for the delay in notifying me, told me my poem had been withdrawn as they had "no wish to compromise my position." I had been wondering whether to offer to withdraw my subsequent competition entry, but the question became academic.

I am still awaiting the results of that competition, but fear they will prove as negative as most of my other attempts have been. Even so, I would rather participate in a competition than in a people’s anthology.

I have learned from these experiences. Fortunately the cost has been relatively small: an entry fee and the cost of two half-price books. From now on, I shall always send an SAE for results when I enter a competition: I used to think it was unnecessary if they stated a winners’ notification date, but now I realise that it’s the only way to guarantee correct postage and increase the probability of receipt.

I shall also be very careful about reading the small print on competition entry forms: I don’t want to run the risk of being published without consultation. Moreover there are competitions that accept previously published poems unless they have been included in an anthology and I don’t want to disqualify myself from these.

I am also determined to be a lot more cynical if someone offers to publish my work. I know poets are still expected to be idealists to some extent, but I would like to see some financial reward. I will take notice of the words of John Whitworth in the Writers’ and Artists’ Handbook: "Never give a publisher money. That is what they give you."

My vanity has been pandered to and I am a Published Poet. Now I am going to concentrate on being a Paid Poet.