27 November, 2007
How to Get Published, for Dummies
Thank you for submitting “This is the majesty of Dunstable.” Your poetry
is now being reviewed by our editorial staff for acceptance into the
International Library of Poetry and Poetry.com’s Open Amateur Poetry
Contest, as well as the Poets Choice: Rate My Poem Contest.
We will send you a follow-up email upon acceptance to our various
contests. This process should only take about two weeks.
But fear not, gentle reader, for if you cannot wait (or indeed afford) to read my masterpiece in the prestigious pages of Poetry.com’s latest Compendium of Truly Great and Outstanding Verse* then I can offer you an exclusive peak at my, no doubt, winning entry right here…
In fact, why not consider making your own entries to this reputable and world renowned competition? It costs you absolutely nothing (that’s right! Nothing!) to enter. Your poem is all but guaranteed to be published - it’s a dead cert! The only things you’d ever need to pay for are silly small details, such as actually receiving a printed copy of your work, or attending the compulsory banquet to discover if you are indeed the overall winner of the annual contest. In Washington.
I know, it’s hardly a new thing. These scams, and indeed this particular website, has been around for years, and yet they still exist. I’m not as naive as I probably sound when it comes to confidence tricksters, and how they prey on people’s faith, trust, and aspirations (and, yes, often greed). I just appear to be turning into something of a Grumpy Old Man cum armchair vigilante in my old age. I recently had a conversation that stretched over a month or so via email with a lottery phisher. You know the types - “Dear winner, you have won the lottery!!! To claim contact us at this hotmail address, now!”
So I replied.
Not as myself of course. I replied as a doddery old woman, completely clueless as to where her late husband had put her bank details, let alone how to use the computer, but extremely grateful for the opportunities that all this cash could bring after a very difficult year that saw the loss of her husband, a long spell in hospital and financial worries that had all but wiped out her savings (I did work it a little more subtly than it sounds). This was not entirely to waste the time of the individual who’d contacted me personally (oh yes, all my friends call me ‘winner’ don’t you know), and had zero issues about ripping off a dotty old woman. It was mostly about having some guilt-free fun at their expense.
If you have a go, then let me know how you get on and indeed what you submit. The most ludicrous entry to get a notification of publication gets a pint of Guinness and a packet of pork scratchings on me. You’d be mad not to!
Mad.
*For most people genuinely applying to Poetry.com, verse is another word for poetry.
Won’t you be sorry when you win the grand prize but are disqualified because the award council links to this entry and finds that you have been bad mouthing their reputable and respectable big-break site for upcoming writers, Mr. Letowski!
Comment by Reese E.V. Durverse, CEO, poetry.com — 27 November, 2007, 7:43 am
I always knew there was a great future for you as a poet.
I think I may have actually broken a rib through giggling at “Dunstable”
Comment by Janatan — 27 November, 2007, 7:50 am
I don’t think poetry and competitions go together. Poetry and fame and fortune certainly don’t. It’s a shame that poets feel such a need to prove themselves. One great thing about blogs is that they remove the barrier to publication of someone else’s (probably commercially minded) judgement.
Comment by drodbar — 27 November, 2007, 8:24 am
I love, love, love ‘The Majesty of Dunstable’. I especially love to imagine these majestic words on the ‘unique products & features’ that are being offered such as perhaps a laminated wallet card to hand out in pubs. The sweatshirt would be immensely gratifying, but perhaps most of all the plaque where for just $39.99 you could get something anyone could run off in Photoshop in less than a minute. Ah but there is the walnut finished frame, yes, I’d have to trot to Poundland for one of those. Marvellous. I’ll have to think up something worthy for my entry…
Comment by Jayne — 27 November, 2007, 10:16 am
Benji Letowski, will you marry me?
Comment by Ani — 27 November, 2007, 12:36 pm
You don’t stand a chance against my 76 stanza masterpiece ‘The Spires of Hemel Hempstead (As Glimpsed From A Urine-Stained Waiting Room at the Bus Station)’. So there.
Comment by An Unreliable Witness — 27 November, 2007, 10:45 pm
There is nothing wrong with Dunstable
i live there all the time
We have our own town drunks, chavs,
traffic jams, pollution and grime!
You can buy anything in Dunstable
as long as it’s from an estate agent,
pizza place, or charity shop.
We even have our own brand new ALDI super store!
Yes.
Oh Yes!
Comment by mark — 28 November, 2007, 8:24 am
Mr Durverse. You’re a bumhead and you know it.
Fanks John. I’m hungry. Feed me.
d - I entirely agree. There’s no money to be made in poetry, unless you become a household name overnight, so you might as well publish it yourself wherever and however you can. People give up the security of their day job to be artists and others think they’re mad. Artists give up their the security of their work that sells to write poetry, and other artists look on just as bewildered.
Thank you, Jayne. A signed copy is in the post. And it only cost you $39.99! You have to agree, that’s a bargain.
Ani, yes I will. You’re rich, right? We’ve established I’m not as I’m a poet.
And neither do you, Mr Witness! Ha! All entries must be 24 lines or less! I win! Ha!
Why Mark, what a brave prosaic form. Its rawness and ease of language is like the everyday speech one would find in Dunstable itself, evoking a fragile sense of place, but more critically an invitation into its humble dwellings. The irregularity of the meter meanwhile suggests to me something like an irregularity of traffic. One genuinely feels exactly as if they were standing on a busy high street there, observing the sumptuous delights you paint for us! La la la, other pretentious prattle. Sum up: delightful effort, delightful. As the only featured contestant you win the pint of Guinness and packet of pork scratchings. On me. Unfortunately I didn’t keep my balance and spilt them everywhere. Sorry about that. They did end up literally on me though, so the offer is contractually sound.
Comment by Ben — 30 November, 2007, 3:39 pm