What's Neat on the Net IV

This week, what's neat on the net:

1) You can hear a recording of Walt Whitman reading the first four lines of his celebrated poem "America." Or maybe you can't. For a brief overview of the controversy on the authenticity of this recording, as well as to hear, the recording yourself, click this link to a posting on the Open Culture blog.

2) At Bookriot, Amanda Nelson imagines the base and top notes of perfumes inspired by dead writers such as Fitzgerald, Sexton, Tolstoy, and Plath. For example, Flannery O’Connor's perfume is described as being a blend of church incense, soap, vanilla, ginger. So far these scents exist only in Nelson's imagination, but who knows what the future brings.

3) DOG EAR, out of London, is both a magazine and a bookmark. Submit prose or drawings, and once 40 pieces have been collected, the top 10 will be made into a bookmark and distributed about the London area. That sounds like fun, doesn't it?

4) From Flavorwire, hotels and hotel rooms inspired by literature, including the Jules-Verne-inspired "Journey to the Center of the Earth" ice room at the Hotel de Glace in Canada; Alain de Botton's London hotel, The Roi de Belges, with a room designed to replicate Joseph Conrad's steamer used in the Congo trip that inspired Heart of Darkness; and the Hobbit Hotel in New Zealand. I especially like Le Pavillion de Lettres in Paris, with each of its 26 rooms devoted to a different writer, one room each for each letter of the alphabet matched to the first letter of  the last name of that writer. Check out the photos here.

5) Writer's Relief posts arts and crafts you can make out of your rejection letters. From papier mache to origami and rolled paper crafts, this site has plenty of ideas for what to do with those soul-stultifying pieces of paper.

I'll be saving mine however. Recently I've had a stream of rejections, in start contrast to 2 years ago when everything I sent out was accepted and I was being solicited for work that I didn't have because everything was being accepted. Now I can't seem to place a single poem.

It's good for me to remember that it's cyclical. Sure, instead of a gentle sine wave cycle, this is me slamming between polar opposites, but it's still important to remember the cycle of good things and bad things that happen. It's human nature when bad things happen to think that the streak of bad luck will end, but when good things are happening, it's important to also remember that such a state of grace is temporary. My kids hate it when I tell them this during the good times; they just want to enjoy the fun and not have it dampened by the reminder. But the downside will be less down it if doesn't also blindside you.

So now I need to think about my rejections. I think the quality of my work is about the same as ever, but the sensibility has shifted. Maybe I need to try different markets than the ones I generally look to. Maybe I'm wrong about the quality (in the absence of readers to help me along here in Japan) or maybe the competition is just getting more vast or more talented, and I need some kind of breakthrough in order to reach a new level. Maybe I just need to write and not worry about publishing.

And it's a wrap.

Rejection in Reflection

So I got a rejection email today that stung me particularly strongly. I had aimed above my usual standards, it's true, and while I was realistic about the chance of receiving an acceptance, I couldn't help but hope in a small hidden part of myself that this would be the breakthrough for me. I wasn't surprised when it wasn't, but I felt rather condescended to by the actual rejection letter. After stewing about this all morning, I went back to reread the letter and to try and identify what it was about the wording that was bothering me so much.

And I discovered that it wasn't really the letter, which was nicely if ambiguously written, so much as it was just having someone somewhere decide that I was not worth her support.

Here's the actual wording, which as you can see is diplomatic and not meant to discourage and was not all that condescending either (though maybe a touch):

Thanks for sending in your manuscript. We rely on submissions like yours, since a good portion of what we publish comes to us unsolicited. Unfortunately, we won't be able to accept this one for publication—we're a very small company, and can only put out a few each year. Please feel free to submit again in the future—as our tastes are continuously changing.

Thanks again for your efforts,

This is how I read the letter (or remembered it all morning anyway):

Thanks for letting us reject your manuscript. We rely on submissions infinitely better than yours, since a good portion of what we publish comes to us unsolicited, and in your case also unwanted. We would never in a million years accept this one for publication--we're a very discerning and elite company, and can only put out the best of the best each year and yours didn't even come close. Please feel free to submit again in the future if you've had a brain transplant or maybe a complete breakdown of personality resulting in yours being replaced with one that has talent--as our tastes are continuously changing ha ha not really but we say that to make you feel better.

Thanks again for letting us reject you,

Sigh.  I'm somewhere betwixt reading between the lines and projecting, I'm afraid.

(And if you are wondering why I don't say who the publisher is, it's more about me being ashamed at having aimed above myself than about protecting her. She did, after all, write a very nice rejection letter.)

Rereading what I've just written I think to myself, "Jeez, Jessica, what did you want her to say?" Yes, I wanted her to say Yes, but given that she can't, there's not a good way for her or anyone to reject something as personal as poetry. As personal to me as my poetry. No matter what she says, I'm going to hear something else from inside myself, and doesn't that suck for her? And for me? Sure does.

I'm going to have to try to do better next time. Because there will be a next time. There could be one now, if I go and check my inbox, which, excuse me, I'm going off to do.

Random Notes

Today I have a bunch of unrelated odds and ends for you, in random order.

First is the compilaton of rejection letters at Flavorwire. Be heartened when you read a truly amusing rejection letter addressed to Gertrude Stein, as well as some rather soulless letters to writers such as Jack Kerouac, Sylvia Plath, and Peter Mathiessen.

Next, Salon has an interview with novelist Jonathan Lethem.

Third, Occupy Wall Street has a poetry anthology. Apparently all submissions are accepted (?). Click on the link to see how to submit, and to read the 400+ page PDF file that is the anthology.

Fourth, Nikky Finney, a poet I only discovered earlier this year, has won a National Book Award for her fourth book, Head Off & Split. I link to an earlier National Book Foundation post that has her listed only as a finalist so you can read a sample poem there. It was through an excellent podcast interview that I learned of Finney and her exemplary work, but I cannot remember which podcast it was now. If I find it, I will post it later, as you really should get to know this poet, if you don't already.

Finally, I thought I would update you on my own memorization project. I have memorized the five poems I mentioned earlier this month (three of which were re-memorizations, or fixing the poems in my brain). I have now nearly memorized a sixth, Li-Young Lee's One Heart (a good short one for encouragement) and have begun Edward Hirsch's Self-portrait.

Over and out.

Celebrating Rejection

Just in case you don't get enough rejection letters of your own, here is a website listing the text of rejection letters (both standard and "higher tier") from a plethora of literary magazines. It's actually kind of fun to read them, especially when they aren't addressed particularly to you!

Thanks to Nic Sebastian for making me aware of this interesting website.