Tag Archives: social media

A Year in (Not) Publishing

Like more people than you would imagine, I once had a whole spreadsheet keeping track of the poems I had written, the outlets I had submitted them to, and the results. I rarely look at it now. I have not published many poems recently, either. Partly this is just life. Letting go of a poem – researching magazines and preparing submissions, writing cover letters – takes a lot of time and concentration.

The digital world, and the amount of opportunities out there, creates the impression that getting a poem published is easier than it is. That ever-growing number of opportunities is at least partly a function of magazines being able to find their own audiences and more people having the tools to put platforms together in the first place. The benefit for writers and readers, no longer reliant on a narrow set of outlets, are huge. The effect on how we think about our own work is more ambiguous.

On the one hand, it’s too easy to get unrealistic expectations about how much anyone can or should be publishing. On the other, rejection (the most likely outcome, when even small magazines can only publish a tiny percentage of what they receive) only feeds a desire for more rejection. Comparisons with social media are hard to ignore: for every tweet you put out which gets no likes you want to do another. For every poem which got rejected, I would submit another elsewhere.

I have got a great deal out of writing this blog this year. The feedback is as immediate as social media, and far more fulfilling. There is always a chance someone will read it, so it never feels pointless. I write about whatever I want, however I want: that anyone is listening at all is a luxury! Yet, having had a month or so away from blogging, I can see how my relationship with blogging might have some things in common with submitting poetry to magazines, or using social media: that feeling that I need to just keep publishing; that fear of rejection, which only feeds the desire to publish more.

Is there a solution? Jonathan Davidson suggests we broaden our understanding of what sharing poetry entails to include different kinds of reading, and to reach more non-poets – for instance, out loud, or at special occasions. I agree. Davidson is mainly talking about collections, but the insight can be extended to individual poems too. Why should the default ‘end point’ be publication in a magazine?

For most people I know, poetry is a marginal art, so it’s a fair assumption that by placing a poem in a magazine you will have a greater chance of finding an appreciative reader than sharing it with someone you know. But the end result of this way of thinking isn’t just a self-fulfilling prophecy which keeps poetry on the margins: it has implications for our idea of what a poem even is.

There are ways of rethinking how we share poetry among regular writers, too. I suspect a lot of writers engage with poetry groups and workshops, at least in part, as steps towards publication. But there is no reason why they have to be. I attended a regular poetry evening when I was at uni. None of the poems I wrote then will ever see the light of day, but I have rarely felt so much like I knew why I was writing.

My own solution over the last few years has been to try to publish less poetry, and more writing about poetry. I can see this wouldn’t appeal to everyone. It may end up with me not publishing any of my own poetry at all. But I’ve also found that I appreciate poetry – writing it and reading it – more, not less.

While I’m Here

  • Poetry Brum is one of the best new poetry magazines in the UK and one reason for this is the space and encouragement they give to prose. Also editorials like this.
  • Full disclosure: I have a piece in the latest issue, on what a lockdown homage to Louis MacNeice’s Autumn Journal tells us about the original poem. Some of the issue is available online, including this essay by Mona Kareem on the politics of translation. I also recommend the piece on ‘music lost in translation’ in the print edition by Khaled Hakim – who writes like a dream.
  • The editors at The Friday Poem publishes one poem, and only one poem, a week – and explain why. They also have a lively blog: Emma Simon’s recent piece on rejections inspired me to finish this one, as did Matthew Stewart’s piece on reaching ‘beyond the bubble‘.
  • Matthew very kindly featured me on his round up of the year’s best poetry blogs.
  • I watched ‘Don’t Look Up’. It was mostly bad, although I was glad they followed through with the ending. I also watched ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ for the first time, which was completely surreal and unexpectedly brutal – mostly in a good way.

The header is from a print by Cyril Power called ‘Whence and Whither’ (c.1930). I have just moved out of London after almost six years and am feeling nostalgic about escalators.

Tweeting Ourselves to Death

I was once part of a large, discussion-based event for secondary school students, where the organisers (myself included) tasked the participants with discussing whether social media was bad or good for the world. The arguments they came up with were, as you might expect, varied and nuanced, and, when they drafted them, pretty much fifty-fifty.

But when it came to putting the motion to a vote, the room was overwhelmingly in favour of “good for the world”. Judging by their presentations, and the general mood, the participants had clocked that the question implied a kind of judgement on their own lives, of which social media was simply a fact, offered by older generations that thought it was still somehow optional.

Literature is full of pessimistic prophecies about the future of society and culture, or the destruction of the planet. These judgements are frequently issued with good reason and they often come true. But the more they hit home, the more condescending they feel. Philip Larkin’s ‘Going, Going’, for instance, with its vision of ‘England, gone’, buried underneath motorways and service stations: most of my life has been spent driving around motorways, stopping at service stations. I am the ‘crowd at the M1 café.’

Concrete is one thing. When culture is involved, the judgement feels even more personal. I recently read Amusing Ourselves to Death, Neil Postman’s 1984 polemic about the effect of television on public life, for the first time. His argument, the general gist of which feels undeniable, is that television’s ubiquity, in the US especially, has changed how we see the world, and not just on TV: everything is entertainment and context is irrelevant.

Postman is remarkably open about judging the present by the standards of the past. In brief, his thesis is that nineteenth century America was an exceptionally print-based culture, which in turn meant rational argument had a genuine purchase on public life in a way it no longer does. By his reckoning, audience members at political debates in the US at that time would happily sit through up to seven hours of back and forth, often over dry, technical issues. You do not get Boris Johnson or Donald Trump without television, and they are just the surface.  

I say remarkably open, because, if Postman is right, by now the thinking apparatus of almost everyone on earth is seriously fried and no one wants to hear that.1 When a technology is as constitutive of culture as television was (according to Postman) in the late twentieth-century, or as social media is today, anything positive or exciting will either be indirectly associated with that technology, or happen through it. Because that is where people are.

So, I can understand why the students would interpret the question “is social media good or bad for the world?” as a referendum, not on social media, but on ‘the past’ vs ‘the present’. And if you are going to be the ones living in the present, self-respect means there is only one answer. No one wants to think of their lives as someone else’s dystopia.


1 The reason Postman’s argument is convincing, to me, is that it is more subtle than that joke implies. It does not rely on any quasi-scientific, and probably unfalsifiable, argument about the damage TV does to our brains: it is a question of what modes of representation – what standards of truth – we are most used to. Similarly, a lot of the debate about what social media does to our attention spans is irrelevant, however close to the bone: the question is what it does to our expectations.