Badges? We don’t need no stinking badges. Or….do we?
It turns out that the internet, all the while distracting me from writing with clever cat-in-box YouTube videos and Ryan Gosling memes, would also like to help me keep my nose to the writerly grindstone by offering several writing apps.
This month, I am taking the January “challenge” at 750words.com, a site devoted to helping people develop a practice of writing regularly. They provide a basic platform (a screen for writing and space to save it all), all kinds of metadata (what your moods are when you’re writing, your most commonly used words and themes, the pace of your writing, etc.), and a pretty simple system of incentives and rewards, including various cute achievement badges. There is also a social networking dimension to the site — you can “follow” other writers, leave notes of encouragement and support, sign up with others for monthly challenges — but you can be entirely introverted/solo if you like. I like. And what you write isn’t posted — it’s just archived and analyzed. I like that, too. I am not a year-long devoted user of the site, as my stats reveal, but every once in a while I’ll try to take on a challenge, go on a tear. It has, at times, helped me achieve the drafting portion of certain writing tasks — and I like the idea of getting “credit” for much of the writing I’m doing, even if it’s not poetry. (One flaw of 750 words is that line breaks don’t remain intact). 750 words per day is, I think, a pretty great number — three double-spaced pages, more or less. Enough to be a respectable chunk of work; but not so much that it’s too daunting or unreasonable. Slow and steady.
After learning about 750 words, I’ve become aware of a few other sites devoted to promoting regular writing practice — with varying degrees of encouragement/accountability. I’ve found that 750 words is largely tilted towards friendly encouragement — cute colorful badges, and upped stakes only if you want to sign up for a challenge. I have already failed January’s challenge (missed three days at various points) so my name is now on this month’s “Wall of Shame.” Still, the whole enterprise seems fairly gentle. “Write or Die,” on the other hand, is designed based in part on the premise that “a tangible consequence is more effective than an intangible reward.” In other words: “negative reinforcement.” At Write or Die, you pledge to write a certain amount during a limited duration of time. If, at any point after you have commenced that day’s writing, you STOP writing for a given length of time, the consequences are implemented. There are three different “modes” at which you can set your consequences — “gentle,” “normal,” and “kamikaze.” If you’re set to kamikaze, and you stop writing, your work starts erasing itself right there on the screen until you start writing again! There’s the regular web app version, and also a version you can buy for the iPad.
Just today I was introduced to two other sites: One Page Per Day and One Word. One Page Per Day is a little too stripped-down-minimalist for me. “A web typewriter for authors.” You write one page a day. As with 750 words, you get a daily reminder to write. No rewards or punishments other than what you already had going. I guess I just don’t see the appeal of this one — especially given that for me, part of the satisfaction in having completed “a page” (as opposed to a certain number of words) has to do with a physical artifact I like to call paper. Anybody out there using One Page Per Day regularly and have a testimonial they’d like to make?
One Word takes a different tack than these others, in that it seems to focus more on the small moment of creativity rather than the regular generation of a set number of pages or words. No special rewards or consequences, either. Each day, there’s a new word. You click in, and you’re given the word, a text box, and sixty seconds to write something inspired by that word. And then you post it (or not) and get to see what other 30,000 users posted. Yesterday’s word was “hinge.” I like the hit and run quality — it reminds a little of the thrill I got as a high school student competing in speech and debate tournaments. My event was “Extemporaneous Speaking.” (We just called it “extemp.” Because we were So Cool.) They’d spring a topic on you, give you an hour to research (no internet!) and prepare a persuasive speech. What a rush that was! I think I’m going to try to keep up with One Word — it feels like a great way to keep the poetry muscles in shape. I certainly can’t write a poem every day. But between the encouraging badges and embarrassingly fascinating metadata 750 words and the impromptu challenge of One Word, as well as the lightly competitive (with myself and others) tone of the whole enterprise, I feel like I have no excuse not to write SOMETHING every day.
Are you aware of sites like these that I’ve overlooked? I’d love to learn about more.
I, Dobsonfly
The basic concept behind much blogging is easy enough to characterize as at least somewhat narcissistic. You (whoever you are, nobody special) write about whatever it occurs to you to write about — maybe yourself, maybe Volvos, maybe Kate Bush, maybe book publishing — and set it afloat into the internet. Maybe you name your blog after yourself. Maybe you’ll regret that lack of creativity later.
If you’re really into it, you imagine people reading your stuff, right? Even against all the odds, even adrift in that ocean of blogosphere, the very fact of your blog’s existence marks you as optimistic regarding others’ interest in you or your interests. Your blog is special. Your blog is funny/incisive/tearjerking/brilliant. It will draw readership using some kind of pixellated magneto-karmic force.
If you’re really good, or devoted, and/or the least bit tech-savvy, you know how to do things to increase the chances of the few who actively read blogs to read your blog. To increase your pageviews. If you’re me, that all seems a little exhausting. However, even a lazy, average-skilled, late adopter such as myself can follow the links on my own blog’s dashboard…and I find that there’s all this data in the form of “Stats” centered on “traffic–” the numbers of hits and comments, where they’re coming from, etc. The readership! (Another site I use, 750words, collects and displays “metadata,” about my most frequently used words, what “moods” I’m in when I write, what subjects interest me, what my syntax might say about me, etc. Me, me, me!!) Here at Word Press, the stats are focused not so much on me, but on the readership.
For some time now, since I first realized it, something buried in my own blog stats has bothered me. So of course I am going to blog about it. (Meta!)
One of the things Word Press keeps track of is the search terms used by folks who end up at your blog, on one of your pages. What are they searching for? What’s my blog about? Or, here we go: for what questions am I the answer? I started my blog because sometimes people at poetry readings or conferences would ask me about my website, or where they could find me online. And for the longest time I had no answer. So I made a blog, because I’m too lazy/cheap/slow to make a proper website. It’s supposed to be focused on my poetry — publications, readings, related writing stuff. Not so much the diarist, me. An answer to the question, “where can I learn more about this fascinating and gifted Liz Ahl character and buy her books?”
So. Search terms. Any guesses as to what the most common search terms that bring visitors to my (Liz Ahl Poetry) blog might be?
The largest number of views of my blog are the result NOT of excited responses to information about readings, publications, or other po-biz types of things. No. Indeed, most viewers of my blog are NOT even looking for ME. Not even looking for “Liz Ahl,” or “poetry by Liz Ahl” or even just “poetry.” No. They are looking for something else. And if I tell you, it’s possible that somehow, due to logorithms or algorithms or whatever it is that greases the gears of the souped up search engines (vroooooooom!), the problem will be exacerbated. I have discussed this with a friend who has strongly suggested that the “problem,” is not even a problem. Okay, though. I’ve started down this road. You’ve come along. I owe it to you, even though it will probably exacerbate the problem — I mean, opportunity — even further.
The problem is the dobson fly. Or the dobsonfly. In the summer of 2010, I was at the Vermont Studio Center and a male dobsonfly appeared in the writers’ studio. Dobsonflies are gargantuan. If you think you know what I mean, you don’t. I wouldn’t have. But now I have witnessed (and memorialized in blog form 4-eva) the dobsonfly. I put up a picture I took, and one somebody else took, of a male dobsonfly, wrote a sentence or two. One post about a dobsonfly. Why is the dobsonfly a problem? Okay. Really the dobsonfly isn’t the problem. Usually, I’m the problem. When I’m active on the blog (as you may have observed, I go through phases), I check in on my stats. Obsessively. With the click of a button, I can see how many views each post gets each day, and I can see where folks are “coming” from (usually Facebook and Google or a friend’s blog). And those search terms I mentioned. (Don’t worry, it doesn’t know that it’s YOU who typed “is liz ahl any good as a poet?” Or, if it does, it certainly isn’t telling ME.) It’s anonymous, I just know that someone, somewhere, typed a word or phrase and it led them to my blog.
Yes, Liz, are we getting to the point of this story?
Dobsonfly.
The most frequently used term BY FAR, by those who end up glimpsing my blog, is dobson fly or dobsonfly. Not my name, not poetry, not New Hampshire poetry, well, you get the picture. I am not exaggerating. Here are the most recent numbers, for the top five search terms that result in hits at my blog:
#1 — dobson fly (1,945 hits)
#2 — dobsonfly (1,490 hits)
#3 — liz ahl (196 hits)
#4 — male dobsonfly (151 hits)
#5 — mandibles (100)
This dobsonfly business started to disturb me when I first realized the magnitude of the issue. It seemed deceptive. I felt badly for all the dobsonfly people — maybe they, like I had last summer, saw this freaky Jurassic insect on the side of their garage or, god forbid, INSIDE their garage, and were frantically Googling to find out what the thing was, and they end up in my so-so kind-of-poetry-focused blog. But no, that’s wrong. If they already knew the name of the bug, then maybe they were looking to do some more research. Pity the entomologist who washes up here, eager for scientific information, mating habits, wingspan, I dunno. And what does he get? Well, you see for yourself. So I was feeling a little badly for them, as if my blog had misled them. As if I had misled them. But also, I suppose, I was feeling a little badly for myself, as I read, daily, how many more people seemed interested in dobsonflies than they were in….me.
Oh, it’s shameful to write it. But as my friend pointed out, the entomologists might enjoy some respite from the usual search results. They might even read a poem, or make a comment. I guess that’s part of the appeal of the internet and of its endless blog flotsam.
I thought about deleting the dobsonfly post — the bait and switch. Then I might get more accurate stats about interest in the “real” subjects/themes of my blog. Accuracy is so important to my narcissism. But if I do that, I’ll hardly have any stats at all about which to obsess. What am I without the dobsonfly? Would I even exist at all? And of course now that I’ve completed this entry, with its dozen more uses of “dobsonfly,” I have further dobsonflied up my blog.
Aren’t they amazing, though? I still can’t believe insects that huge are real AND live in New England. And let me tell you, the internet is crawling with them.
If It Quacks Like A Book….
It’s January, the winter session where I teach, and since I don’t teach during this span, I try to reserve some of this time to send work out — individual poems and the two book-length manuscripts I’m currently circulating. A couple of months back, I was reading my Poetry and noted in the back an announcement about the Emily Dickinson First Book Award. It’s a $10,000 cash prize — wow! — but also publication by Graywolf Press, which made me swoon a little bit. AND (my favorite bit) it is a prize for a poet of forty or over. A refreshing moment in the age of the prodigy, dontcha think? And yes, I am, age-wise, qualified for this award – so I filed this opportunity in my January pile; the deadline is in February.
Today, I got around to visiting the link provided in the announcement in Poetry — and I saw mostly what I had expected to see regarding page lengths, format, etc. But — D’OH — I’m in trouble. Here’s why:
“Writers who have had chapbooks of poetry printed in editions of 300 copies or more are ineligible.”
My first chapbook, A Thirst That’s Partly Mine, won the 2008 Slapering Hol Press Chapbook Prize and was published in a numbered edition of 500. ATTPM is, uncontroversially, a chapbook — a lovely hand-sewn saddle stitch, a smallish number of poems, a letterpress cover with a die-cut window. Sixteen poems, twenty-four pages. But published in a (generous!) edition of 500. I don’t think anyone (okay, anyone who cares about such distinctions) would dispute that it’s a chapbook. (You, sir, are no chapbook!)
My second chapbook, Luck, was published in an edition of 250, but its twenty-four poems end on page 48, and because of that particular number, I have been disqualified from submitting to a different “first book” competition. I could argue that since the text of the poems begins on page nine of the chapbook, it’s not, strictly, 48 pages of poetry. But, um, really? No. Hell, Luck‘s not saddle-stapled — it’s got a SPINE just wide enough to have WORDS on it AND a glossy cover with a picture of me on the back. If it walks like a book and quacks like a book…..I think that someone (whether or not they cared about such distinctions) might call it a book. I might call it a book. Hey. Can I just call it that?
Seriously, though. I am a little disappointed at not being able to send my book-length (it’s fifty-two mss pages) work to the Dickinson First Book Award, but I’ll get over it. Am already mostly over it. Just as I got over not being able to submit to, er, “younger poets” opportunities. In fact, let me take a moment to further soothe my mild and passing disappointment by reminding myself of the following fact: editors selected two smallish manuscripts of my poems (mine!) to publish. And by publish, I mean: attentively and lovingly steward my poems into bookish form; help me edit/shape the work further; help me share my work with a larger audience. These are poetry loving people, and they have loved my poetry well.
Beyond the ephemeral disappointment, though, is the (equally ephemeral?) matter of semantics, numbers, the “biz,” etc. I think that stuff is kind of interesting. I have blogged previously about what “published” means, (here, briefly), (here, too, sort of) and I find myself today ruminating about what a “book” is, to various audiences, for various purposes. A book has its materiality, its “thing-ness” (witness my giddiness above about things like letterpress covers and spines), but it is also a symbol, a sign, a signal. Ditto chapbooks, yes? Are chapbooks JV? Are they hipster object d’art? Does the Poetry Foundation assert, via its first book award guidelines, that I have already published a “first book?” I have come to no new or crystal-clear conclusions about the (chap)bookness of (chap)books, not today, not yet. I continue to be a long-time lover of the chapbook — from my few years as a publisher of them in the mid to late 1990s (Ultima Obscura Press), my fifteen years or so avidly collecting them, my use of them in the classroom, my teaching friends how to sew basic saddle-stitches and Japanese stab binding, etc. And of course, I also foster deep love for book books. I just finished reading one today and am going to dive into the pile for the next one to keep at bedside. And there’s the audiobook I’ve got going on the iPod for getting through the ninth circle of treadmill. Speaking of which….
Leisure, Chores, AWP 2012 in Chicago
Good morning! It’s 11:13AM and a sunny six degrees. After I finish these words, J and I will go haul in wood, and get the woodstove going. Since today is Sunday and tomorrow is a holiday, it will be a good stretch for the woodstove, which we normally don’t run during the week. Also in the offing for today and tomorrow: laundry, cooking, cleaning, pile-sorting, and maybe a movie or two. And I’m going to read the latest APR. And finish reading this book about Foxwoods that tells an interesting tale with about twice as many words as necessary. A good couple of days in the offing and I SHALL NOT WASTE THEM.
At the end of _next_ month, I’ll be heading to Chicago for the AWP (Association of Writers and Writing Programs) conference, where I’ll be on the panel, “Ear Candy: Teaching the Pleasures of Poetic Meter,” with Jeff Oaks, Annie Finch, Honorée Fanonne Jeffers, and Tara Betts. Here’s the description:
“Rooted in a diversity of aesthetic and pedagogical perspectives, this panel focuses on the teaching and learning of meter: how, when, and why might one teach meter to young poets? Is teaching meter like teaching other elements of poetic craft and technique? Is meter akin to music or language when it comes to learning and teaching? How can we help our students sing out rather than slog through? How might activities like scansion, reading aloud, or imitation, help poets develop an ear for meter?”
Unfortunately, our panel is scheduled for Saturday afternoon (tail end of the conference), but I notice (looking at the conference schedule) that we have a pretty unique panel, so I think that helps. I am hoping to catch up with all the usual suspects, and also see some Chicago friends (you know who you are) while I’m in town.
I’ll also be attending a couple of off-site events I wanted to mention — one to celebrate 25 years of publishing by Pecan Grove Press, which published my chapbook Luck, and one for A Face to Meet the Faces, an almost-out anthology of persona poems, including one of my very own. The Pecan Grove Press event will take place on Friday, March 2nd, from 6-8PM, at the Gage Gallery on the campus of Roosevelt University. Here’s a link where you can see the many writers involved. The event to celebrate A Face to Meet the Faces will happen on Thursday, March 1, here. The reading will feature poets Tara Betts, Eduardo C. Corral, Nina Corwin, Matthew Guenette, Quraysh Ali Lansana, Marty McConnell, Tomas Q. Morin, Aimee Nezhukumatathil, Patricia Smith, and Brian Turner.
I’ll also, at some point, be at the Slapering Hol Press book fair table signing copies of my first chapbook, A Thirst That’s Partly Mine. Ditto for Pecan Grove Press with Luck. I’ll post days/times when/if I get them. All of this is to say — I look forward to seeing you at one or more of these venues! You can learn more about the conference and bookfair here. The bookfair alone is pretty excellent, and traditionally AWP opens the bookfair to the public on the Saturday of the conference. Totally worth checking out! OK, got to go stoke the fires, all of them.
A Face to Meet the Faces
Here’s the very cool cover of a poetry anthology coming out soon — I’m lucky enough to have a poem included! I love persona poetry. Can’t wait to give this a read…. stay tuned for more info.
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“Luck” Chosen “Readers’ Choice” in Poetry at 2011 New Hampshire Literary Awards
I’m thrilled to announce that, thanks to a vote by readers such as yourselves, Luck earned the 2011 “Readers’ Choice” award in poetry at the 2011 New Hampshire Literary Awards. Here’s a list of all the awards given that night. I regret that I couldn’t be at the ceremony to hear the great news in person — but I had previously committed to participating (reading poetry!) in the Pemi-Baker Literacy Task Force annual fundraiser that same night. Thanks to all you folks who have read and enjoyed Luck, and to those of you who voted. Watch this space for some news regarding a new chapbook forthcoming in 2012….
Vote for Luck!
If you have read my chapbook of poems, Luck, and think it’s any good, consider voting for it in the NH Literary Awards “Reader’s Choice” category. You can click HERE to vote. Of course, there’s some stiff competition — some other poets whose work I admire, like Jennifer Militello, Jeff Friedman, Pat Fargnoli. Pat and Jennifer are also finalists for the big “Outstanding Book of Poetry” prize (that’s decided by a panel, not us folks out here). Great to see so much wonderful writing happening in New Hampshire, in any case. Vote by October 12!
Poetry Publishing, BlazeVox Drama, “Vanity,” Internet Discourse
Yesterday, the internet (okay, my internet anyhow, maybe not yours) was lit up with a conversation about BlazeVox soliciting donations/subsidies connected with accepted mss. If you’d like to get caught up, start here, then go here and then probably here. I imagine there will be other posts as well. [Update: Yep. Here's one with some calm & useful language for various kinds of publishing.] [Update II: Here's some really great thinking about the roles of publishers and writers and a better articulation of some differences between publishing and printing than I fumbled through below.]
Reading the blog posts and comment threads has me thinking about a couple of things:
1. The handy speed with which we may now respond — off the cuff — to things we read that frustrate/enrage us often does disservice to discourse. (I know I didn’t discover this or anything — I am just seeing a good example.) Lots of reply-lobbing, lots of dramatic accusation, all nearly instantaneous. Much of it — not all — anonymous, and then there’s the incivility that is sometimes — not always — fostered by anonymity, especially when it is combined with instantaneousness. (Word Press alleges that instantaneousness is not a word. It is okay with simultaneity, but that’s not exactly the word I wanted…) I’m reminded of when I was learning how the telegraph — a speedy new technology being used by folks who were used to diplomacy existing at a whole other, much slower pace — may have been a contributing cause of the Great War.
2. “Vanity Press” used to mean, didn’t it, that if you had the MONEY, you’d pay someone to publish your mss. You were paying (I think) for access to the means of production, and for the (appearance of) “legitimacy” the existence of your mss in book form (with pages/spine/etc) would convey. Therefore, they were called “vanity” presses because they seemed to cater to vanity above literary quality. Am I wrong about that? That’s a history I need to read up on. Anyhow, it seems to me that vanity presses were about supplying access to the means of production. Maybe you were paying to be “printed” and maybe there’s some difference between “printed” and “published.”
Nowadays, many (all?) of us have access to the means of production. No typesetting required. Print away. As one commenter at HTMLGIANT suggested,
“If I were being asked to contribute $250 to the publication of my own book I’d do that by learning InDesign, signing up with Lulu and Amazon, and buying Project Wonderful ads myself.”
I was going to link here to Bill Knott’s poetry blog, but it’s down! Anyhow, Bill learned the technology and has been passionate about offering most of his work for free and/or P.O.D. via Lulu.
The commenter continues: “At this point I’m not sure what the difference is unless (of course) you’re trying to get a job in academia—but even then, I’m sure the committees would look askance at a publisher that’s earned this kind of reputation.”
Ah, yes, the “job in academia.” THAT’S who cares about the difference between your book being “printed” and your book being “published.” Because, of course, the academic cv has NOTHING to do with something as lowbrow as “vanity.” 
And maybe because what we think of as “published” (not just “printed”) has traditionally involved an editorial & promotional apparatus, and that is where the “legitimacy,” if you buy that, resides or is created. The promotional/connections piece of traditional publishing is important, I think — just because you have had your book printed doesn’t guarantee that anyone will buy/read/review it. Although the access to those means (social networking, book fairs, book “trailers” on YouTube, etc.) has also shifted, hasn’t it? Anyhow, my last post (hardly a post, really, when I’m just pasting together what other people post, but I’m doing what I can) linked to an essay about legitimacy and publishing and tenure/promotion in academia. Check it out.
3. An idea that has come up in this conversation in various ways, an idea I’m chewing on, too: poetry in the U.S. doesn’t appear to have the readership to support the traditional publishing biz/model. A painful and scary and exciting moment as publishers (BlazeVox among them?) struggle into new models, or attempt to create hybrid models to keep themselves afloat. I followed an interesting conversation at Brevity last summer about the notion of charging authors to submit work; Ploughshares charges non-subscriber authors $3 to submit electronically (still no charge other than postage to submit via the post). I bought a “subscription” from Pilot Books last year — I like that idea. Recently, I was invited to “pre-order” a friend’s chapbook to help ensure the first print run at a certain number of copies. I was happy to do both of those things.
So, that’s the news from Surly Acres this Labor Day. That, and, oh yeah, THANK YOU LABOR MOVEMENT for making it possible for me to have weekends and health insurance and safe working conditions.
More on What “Published” Means
“Computer word-processing technology has made every writer into a typesetter, which not only drastically reduces book-making expenses, but insofar as we send our manuscripts in data files rather than in envelopes, we have become co-workers in the publishing process.”
A while back on this blog, I wrestled with ideas about what “counts” as “published.” In the really wonderful, thorough, and thoughtful piece I quote above, Michael Anania writes about the history and evolution of publishing in the context of what academia (including some writers and scholars who are gatekeepers when it comes to tenure and promotion) dubs as “legit.”
“The increase in the numbers and variety of poets writing and publishing has been met by an increase in the number of small poetry presses. This essentially positive literary development creates new areas for the kinds of misunderstanding that are generated in tenure and promotions committees. Is a press with a name that is unfamiliar to committee members or located far away from Manhattan respectable? That is to say, does it represent a judgment a committee can rely on? Does it represent any editorial judgment at all?”
I’m not going to clip any more of the piece — hopefully I’ve tantalized you enough that you’ll go to the TriQuarterly site and read the whole thing for yourself. And pass it along.
This piece is great reading for all writers & publishers, and especially for those interested, as I am, in the evolving relationship between digital and print formats — not as an either/or, but as something more layered or multifaceted. Enjoy!
