Our porch swing is doing pirouettes outside our living room window, so I think it’s safe to say that a storm may be blowing in. Spring in Indiana is much more “spring like” then what I grew up with in northwestern Pennsylvania which was basically mud. However, we do get a lot of rain and I think we’re at the beginning of that phase now.
This is a picture of the bookshelf I painted and brought upstairs last weekend. The paint color is Mark Twain’s House Red. I think that’s fitting…
I’ve put together about fifty submissions over the past month to various poetry journals. As per usual, whenever I spend a large quantity of time putting together and submitting my own work, I start to get a little punchy. Needless to say, I was a bit incredulous when I discovered that some journals are charging writers to submit online. The consistent number seems to be $3. Now don’t get me wrong. I have no problem supporting literary journals. I buy them regularly. I pay the contest and reading fees willingly, but paying to submit online? Really? Needless to say, I didn’t pay the $3. Why? Well, because I don’t have to. While I admire the journals who are charging, I have other options. Actually, I have a lot of other options and because I’m still an nameless poet lost in the oblivion that is called submitting, the cranky part of me said “screw this.”
Of course, when I’m feeling really cranky (this usually comes after I’ve read about ten descriptions of journals looking for “surprising poems that wow them”) I feel like throwing in the towel completely. The good thing about this feeling is it is usually fleeting and replaced with an idea for a poem, which is more fun and a lot more constructive.