I've got a fairly large publishing campaign starting January 1st, 2005, so I've been exceedingly busy this last week. Christmas hit my house like a ton of booze (and visiting friends) and I've had so little time to work out my submissions for this campaign (my second).
Waiting for Wilting
I had to send my first rescinsion notice today and felt odd about it. It seems like such a negative thing to do, but if a publication's response time begins to fall into the exorbitant, I suppose a rescinsion letter is a means in which to cope it out. After all, for all the months a submission may be in limbo at a particular publication, I could have been sending it elsewhere. I don't do simultaneous submissions, so if a publication doesn't get back to me in the time they've stated in their market listings, I give them another 4 months before sending the ominous rescinsion notice. This notice gives them another two weeks to get in touch with me, even if just to tell me they're still not sure. My rescinsion notice is actually just a notice of impending rescinsion, and more a means to spur some form of communication. You know, reject me or get off the pot. If I don't hear from them in the two weeks given, the poems are rescinded from their publication. Sad, and a little cold, but I think it's a necessary function a poet has to deal with. The rescinsion notice I sent today was to a somewhat large publication based in New York, NY. I may post names of things here at a later date... I haven't decided on this journal's level of candor yet.
Maisy is in her 8th month of pregnancy, so my investments in the surreal are starting to pick up dividends. I can't begin to explain how excited I am about our approaching parenthood.
Maisy is in her 8th month of pregnancy, so my investments in the surreal are starting to pick up dividends. I can't begin to explain how excited I am about our approaching parenthood.
