Communication

I have the distinct impression that written-page poets and print-based publishers are currently suffering from a growing struggle to reach their readers and customers, having gradually shifted their means of communication from snail mail to email newsletters and then to social media over the past twenty years.

Insta has always been more focused on spoken word, so the poets and publishers in question tended to concentrate their efforts on Facebook and Twitter. The former is now weighed down by ads and reels, meaning that it’s hard for posts to gain traction. Meanwhile, the average age of its users is rising.

And as for the latter, Twitter became the social media of choice for umpteen publishers and poets. Many had huge follower counts, got numerous shares and likes on their posts, and managed to drive much of their online promotional, marketing and sales activity through it. However, Twitter’s change in ownership, name and algorithms has ripped all that asunder. Many people and organisations have given up on X or limited their use of it, while the reach of posts has dropped through the floor.

In this context, a lot of outfits and individuals in the poetry world saw Bluesky as a natural alternative and rushed to open up new accounts there. A few months later, the majority of those accounts have been abandoned. I’d argue that this is because barely anybody stopped to consider that Bluesky works differently from X/Twitter, and your posts will wither and die if you attempt to follow similar communications strategies on both platforms.

Nevertheless, whatever the arguments in favour or against Bluesky might be, the fact remains that the core of U.K. written-page poets and print-based publishers are scarcely using it. But what’s their alternative plan? How do they intend to maintain contact with their readers and customers over the coming years? Given the atomisation of social media platforms, many new titles, launches, reviews, sample poems, etc, seem to be disappearing into the void. As a poetry lover, I find this situation deeply concerning. How can we communicate better?

Readings in 2027...?

I'm currently scheduling readings for 2027 and would be delighted to hear from any lit/book fests in the U.K. that might be able to offer me a slot (see my contact details in my blogger profile).

I've a decent track record, having read to full houses at fests such as StAnza and Poetry in Aldeburgh, and I don't require travel expenses from Spain. Oh, and I promise not to scare off audiences who think poetry's not for them!

A poem by Stephen Claughton

I'm delighted to feature today a poem by Stephen Claughton, taken from his pamphlet titled The 3-D Clock (Dempsey & Windle, 2020).The collection in question is thematic in nature, taking a mother's dementia as its point of departure, tackling some of life's big issues. 

As a reader, I was especially drawn to this poem by the way Claughton's use of emotional restraint and understatement serves to heighten its resonance. Much of its power can be found in what remains unsaid by the two protagonists, left to be inferred by the reader. In fact, the supposed closure of the poem's seemingly circular ending opens out far beyond the limits of its lines. I do hope you enjoy it...!

Anomia

Even the words for ordinary,
everyday things are beginning to fail you now
like old labels that come unstuck
and get muddled beyond recall.
I do my best to help you,
as together we puzzle out
what exactly it is you mean.
It isn’t an easy task –
I’m not a mind-reader, Mum,
and you don’t give me much to go on.
Your periphrases, though accurate enough,
are somehow beside the point.
“The thing that holds water,” you say,
I lamely render as “jug”,
only to find it was “radiator” you meant.
There’s even a name for it,
a word for the loss of words,
though it isn’t one I use.
I work around it instead,
not wanting to worry you.
“It’s just old age,” I say,
“or because you’re feeling tired.”
You seem satisfied with that,
though you’ve seen it happen before –
to your sister and some of your friends.
We don’t need words for it,
this thing that’s bothering you;
we both know what it means.

Stephen Claughton

(first published in The Poetry Shed)

And another new poem in The Spectator...

I have another new poem in The Spectator this week, using the closing minutes of a football match as a metaphor for old age. You can read it via this link.

An accumulation of readers

As I move ever deeper into the third print run of Whatever You Do, Just Don’t, I find myself reflecting more and more on the complete irrelevance and absolute significance of sales figures.

Sales are completely irrelevant to me as an objective or target, but on the other hand their growth brings with it an accumulation of readers, who are by far the most important part of my whole creative process. Without a reader’s enjoyment, my poems would seem self-indulgent.

Then there’s the fact that no favour trading or box ticking are involved in someone’s decision to sit down with a collection, and engage with it. The gaining of a reader is by far the greatest award that a poet can win.

I’ve come to believe that slow-burning word of mouth is the most solid, long-lasting way to build a reputation as a poet. Do you agree…?

Less of a poet...?

A so-called FB friend (who will remain anonymous, so no fishing!) told me to my face the other day that my promotion of my books was far better than the poetry inside them, implying that I was less of a poet for getting my stuff out there. I can fully understand why a poet might feel uncomfortable about promoting their work, but I can't comprehend how this might then lead to their denigrating other poets who do so.

I was stunned by his words, though I recovered sufficiently to reply that his attitude was representative of the worst of U.K poetry. Which reminds me. Anyone up for a signed copy?! If so, just drop me an email. The address is in my blogger profile...

An open goal?

Endings to poems that tap it into an open goal seem to me far less interesting than ones that bend it into the top corner when the keeper wasn't even expecting a shot.

The book knows...

The book knows that, just like humans, it's destined to be born and die alone. But it also knows (again, just like humans) that it would far prefer to be accompanied in the meantime.

The book trembles with anticipation when the poet finally places it in an envelope and heads for the post office, launching it on a journey to its reader, though that's nothing in comparison to the feeling of being held at last, its pages caressed and maybe even folded back if one or two of the poems really hit home... 

Faction

Faction (n). A blend of fact and fiction that transforms anecdote into craft and then art.

Getting to know your own collection

Many poets seem to leave their book behind as soon as it's published, but at that point I feel I'm only just getting to know it.

First of all, the reviews it receives (if the poet's lucky!), provide an excellent sounding board. Which poems do reviewers highlight? What elements are cast into doubt? And secondly, what about the readers who buy the collection? These days, they often select a favourite poem or two from the book and post them on social media. Which ones are chosen? And thirdly, the poems that the poet might also decide to share. Which generate most traction? Which are most popular? Which garner most sales of the book? And then there are in-person readings. As mentioned previously on here, those events enable the poet to explore their collection again, to test which poems go down best in person, and which appear to disappoint.

And finally, the poet often benefits from time to weigh up all this feedback, to gauge it, to avoid dramatic, knee-jerk reactions to it, to compare and contrast it, to consider how it might (or might not!) contribute to the writing of their next collection. Of course, none of this process is possible if they turn their back on the book and immediately embark on another creative project as soon as a copy reaches their hands. The seemingly fallow period that follows publication is, in my view, a necessary pause, a pause that may be filled by the satisfaction of engaging with readers.

A thousand likes

I can't quite believe that my poem ‘The Last Carry’ has now reached over a thousand likes on Bluesky, many of them from people beyond the poetry bubble. Oh, and a fair few of those likes have then gone on to generate sales of Whatever You Do, Just Don't. All in all, a terrific example of how social media, when functioning at its best, can generate new readers for poetry.

The poem and you

The poem is sitting opposite you, watching while you read it through. Once you raise your eyes from the page, it catches your glance. Takes a sip of its glass of Tempranillo. Lets you think. Then sends you back to the beginning to reread it again in light of the ending.

You draw up some more chairs: one for your memory, one for your dreams, another for your imagination. The poem pours them all a glass of that Tempranillo. They swirl it and sniff. Clink glasses in a silent toast. Start talking among themselves. You even dare to join their conversation.

And that’s when the poem stands up, drains its glass, and quietly leaves. Its job is done.

The Power of Celebrity

About a month ago, Alice Roberts, the famous broadcaster, author and academic, shared my poem, ‘The Last Carry’, on Bluesky. It jumped from 650 to 850 likes in a day. Dozens of people followed me. Was any of this relevant or lasting? Was it just a momentary hit?

Well, I sold several copies of my books on the back of her act, as did HappenStance Press, my publisher. And then those new followers have since struck with me. Moreover, there's one key thing that they have in common: none of them are so-called poetry people. All of them are from beyond the bubble, and now they're all reading the other poems that I post on BlueSky, often engaging with them.

In other words, the power of celebrity is huge when it comes to enabling poetry to reach out beyond the bubble. By simply sharing a poem on social media, famous people are breaking down barriers, inviting their followers to read verse in their daily lives. Of course, we're not proposing pop stars here, but instead cultural figures whose followers might well enjoy written poems if they get over the prejudices that were probably inculcated by Eng Lit GCSE and the dreaded National Curriculum.

This phenomonen may offer us a fresh, additional strategy for promoting the genre. I'd suggest it shouldn't be underrated when institutions are considering how best to promote poetry to a wider audience and readership. If they're actually, seriously, interested in doing so, that is...

The use of the passive voice in contemporary poetry

I never say never use a certain device/technique/grammatical structure in a poem, because I believe we need to have access to all the tools in the box. However, we should also be very aware of the ramifications and consquences of our syntactic choices. One such example is the use of the passive voice, which is the focus for today's post. As a reader and an editor, I encounter many poems where the passive voice is employed without the poet apparently being aware of its potential effects.

On the one hand, the passive voice can generate an ambiguity in terms of who or what might be carrying out the action, at least until the poet resolves this issue by defining it. If the poet selects an impersonal passive voice, they should be aware that they are creating implicit questions and doubts for the reader. If they aren't conscious of this fallout, communication may begin to fail.

And on the other hand, the cadence of a sentence or line is often interrupted by a passive voice. It's often surrounded by active verbs, and the necessary inversion of its word order inevitably makes the reader pause. This is fine so long as the poet wants to achieve that effect. Otherwise, it can ruin a poem's flow, especially when invoked as the final lines approach.

In summary, the passive voice too often plays an unintended role when contemporary poetry loses its musical drive and/or semantic clarity. However, when deployed on purpose with a specific aim in mind, it's an extremely useful tool. Something, perhaps, for all of us to ponder next time we sit down in front of a blank piece of paper...

A new poem in The Oxonian Review

I have a new poem in The Oxonian Review. It's titled  ‘Garbanzos Viudos’ (i.e. ‘Widowed Chickpeas’), and you can read it here.

Three recent poems in The Spectator

Delighted to report that I've had another three recent poems in The Spectator over the past few weeks. Yet again, I'm grateful to their poetry editor, Hugo Williams, for his support of my writing, and to Clare Asquith for her work in the background. 

Poetry on Bluesky

So far, I can't recommend Bluesky enough for poetry. Over the past few months, it's enabled me to connect with a lot of poetry people who were new to me, while also finding a whole host of additional readers from beyond the poetry bubble. One excellent example has been the reception for my poem ‘The Last Carry’, first published in The Spectator and then included in my second collection, Whatever You Do, Just Don't (HappenStance Press, 2023). As of today, it's garnered well over 600 likes and more than 100 shares, all along with numerous generous comments from readers. This is the nearest I've ever come to going viral! In fact, not a week goes by without a trip or two to the post office for me with books that I've sold via Bluesky. From my experience, it's really worthwhile in terms of finding a new audience for my poems, though perhaps the most significant bit has been the lovely people I've encountered on there...!

Telling It Slant

The encouragement to Tell It Slant! has become popular among many CW lecturers and workshop leaders over the last few years, seemingly as a natural extension of the old favourite, Show, Don’t Tell!, but what does it actually mean?

Well, it refers to an approach to writing that veers away from dealing with stuff head-on. Its inherent attraction lies in the opportunity it provides for the poet to explore new perspectives and fresh takes on seemingly tired subjects by coming at them via unusual angles, often omitting bits that would be obvious if treated directly, thus intriguing and challenging the reader. As such, its use is widely seen to be lending the poem extra gravitas and depth.

However, there are also consequent risks in its deployment. One is the accusation that the poet is being wilfully obtuse, frustrating the reader, playing a pointless game by holding back information, the absence of which creates the false impression of extra layers to the poem that actually don’t exist. And another is its tempting propensity for enabling emotional shortcuts that skirt round the potential core of the poem.

From my perspective, Tell It Slant! is useful as a weapon in a creative armoury. However, its overuse in contemporary poetry as an all-encompassing method leads poets down a blind alley, causing many poems to fizzle out before they can take their reader on a journey. And for my money, that journey is where poetic truth is found.

The commercial life of a full collection

Judging by the social media feeds of many significant poets and prominent publishers, there seems to be a tacit admission that they both believe a full collection's commercial life pretty much comes to an end on the day it's launched. Or at most, the book's life is drawn out till the appearance of any reviews a few weeks or months down the line, never again to be mentioned in commercial terms.

This attitude is patently leading to a lack of medium-term sales. A full collection needs exposure over a period of time so as to enter into a potential reader's consciousness. From my own experience, for instance, I've witnessed the gradual growth of a vibe around a book if a continued effort is made to explain and sample it. I've personally sold over forty copies of Whatever You Do, Just Don't (HappenStance Press, 2023), my second full collection, so far this year, a major chunk of them via social media, even though the book is now eighteen months old. But the most striking thing is that this interest has also generated a synergy with my 2017 first full collection, The Knives of Villalejo, which has also contributed a further twenty copies to my sales figures.

The above-mentioned story leads me to believe that a full collection's commercial life is actually as long as the poet and/or publisher wish to make it. By immediately moving on to the next creative project, poets lose out on readers for their previous work. And by concentrating on driving a constant churn of new titles, publishers miss out on sales. Mind you, a further question in many cases might be whether their focus is more on funding than on shifting units.

In summary, readers are our lifeblood and we should never turn our backs on them. And in that same vein, (plug, plug, plug!), you can get hold of a signed copy of Whatever You Do, Just Don't by dropping me an email at the address that appears in my blogger profile! Thus contributing to prolonging its life even further! I look forward to hearing from you, etc, etc, etc...!

Relevance vs Irrelevance

If a poet believes they're being sidelined or deemed irrelevant by supposed gatekeepers, they might feel tempted to rail against the perceived slights in public, wailing into a vacuum, trying to punch up or out, but only landing on their own jaw.

I'd suggest they might well be better off putting their grievances to one side, using their time to write stuff that's actually relevant to a potential readership...!