Joseph Harrington
Hadara Bar-Nadav
CA Conrad
Julia Cohen
Kristin Prevallet
Leah Sewell
[
With deepest condolences to Rachel Zucker
Monday, September 30, 2013
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
I love bookstores!
I love bookstores, especially pro-community, indie bookstores. The Raven in Lawrence is sucha bookstore, and you need to visit.
That's all for now.
That's all for now.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Insecurties and mistakes
As the person who sends books out for a press and often compiles poetry event lists, I am often the "bad guy."
What I mean is, I get snarky remarks.
"Why can't you just send the books right away to me?"
"Why do I have to pre-pay?"
"Where are my books?"
"I can't believe you don't trust your authors, that you want payment first."
"Is this an academics-only list of readings? If so, what about the rest of us?"
I admit, I sometimes lash back.
"Please delete my [unlisted] phone number. [I'm not sure how you found it.] You called me on vacation, so I chose not to respond to your call."
"When I first joined the Press, many bookstores and authors had not paid--for more than a year."
I guess what I am saying is: I try to be understanding. I want to be compassionate, not just as a poet, a publisher-editor, or person. I want to echo what the world at rest is. Maybe we use these metaphors to find that peace?
I would like to say, I still carry the stress of that phone call from the bookstore who sent a check on Tuesday, needed the books that Friday, and still hadn't received them. She truly pulled out every emotional blackmail on me with a coarse tone: "What about those people who want to buy the book at the event? We already paid. I am too busy to come by to pick them up. We have a lot planned on our trip today."
I am just as compassionate about books, wanting to get them into others' hands. I don't get paid to work for the Press--no one on the staff does. We are a true not-for-profit, as any money regained goes to printing the next book.
I wish I could provide more, but that is how the Press runs. I want it to continue, and I don't want to be the "bad guy." I want us to be friends. I just ask for your understanding, as you know you have mine.
What I mean is, I get snarky remarks.
"Why can't you just send the books right away to me?"
"Why do I have to pre-pay?"
"Where are my books?"
"I can't believe you don't trust your authors, that you want payment first."
"Is this an academics-only list of readings? If so, what about the rest of us?"
I admit, I sometimes lash back.
"Please delete my [unlisted] phone number. [I'm not sure how you found it.] You called me on vacation, so I chose not to respond to your call."
"When I first joined the Press, many bookstores and authors had not paid--for more than a year."
I guess what I am saying is: I try to be understanding. I want to be compassionate, not just as a poet, a publisher-editor, or person. I want to echo what the world at rest is. Maybe we use these metaphors to find that peace?
I would like to say, I still carry the stress of that phone call from the bookstore who sent a check on Tuesday, needed the books that Friday, and still hadn't received them. She truly pulled out every emotional blackmail on me with a coarse tone: "What about those people who want to buy the book at the event? We already paid. I am too busy to come by to pick them up. We have a lot planned on our trip today."
I am just as compassionate about books, wanting to get them into others' hands. I don't get paid to work for the Press--no one on the staff does. We are a true not-for-profit, as any money regained goes to printing the next book.
I wish I could provide more, but that is how the Press runs. I want it to continue, and I don't want to be the "bad guy." I want us to be friends. I just ask for your understanding, as you know you have mine.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
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