Sometimes stepping back to reflect feels almost as meaningful as the journey itself. Writing and self-publishing my debut book of poetry has been one of those rare experiences; frustrating, humbling, and unexpectedly rewarding all at the same time. From the earliest drafts of my first ugly sonnets to hoisting the completed Author’s Copy in my hands, the journey reminds me of the faith and perseverance that motivated the book’s creation.
When I began this project I understood that my creative choices would not appeal to everyone. In a literary world that increasingly celebrates free verse in poetry, I followed one of the oldest and most demanding poetic structures created, the Shakespearean Sonnet. Every poem in the book follows Shakespeare's fourteen line format. Each line flows in true iambic pentameter, and every quatrain and couplet rhyme precisely where required. This format alone discourages many readers and critics, who view the form as archaic and obsolete. If that is not intimidating enough, the book experiments with this centuries-old structure by exploring raw contemporary themes and by using conventional English language. For some, this simply doesn’t “fit.”
This merging of classical form with modern language makes the book unique, while to some it may be a bit rudimentary. I knew this project was a risk. I anticipated mixed reviews and virtually no commercial success. I did, however, hope for some literary recognition for creating something we don’t see much today.
All of this (and more) has happened, and my expectations have been far exceeded. Most of the responses and reviews I have received have been curious, sincere, thought-provoking, and sometimes deeply personal. Some readers have applauded the book’s return to formal poetic structure. Others have embraced its modern edges. Still others simply appreciate the emotional honesty woven throughout the constraints of rhyme and meter.
Don’t get me wrong. There has been plenty of outright rejection and negative feedback as well. My worst review to date is perhaps my favorite. It is eight words long and comes from my own brother:
“That book stinks! Thanks for the effort though.”
Which brings me to my point.
I have learned that the world of Indie writing and publishing has a very dark side to go with all the positives. Like many first-time authors, I knew nothing about the process or industry when I started. I sought help wherever I could find someone who offered it. I submitted my book to every reviewer and every contest I could find and that fit within my limited budget. These opportunities ranged from absolutely free to outrageously expensive.
Nothing surprised me more than the frustration over the vast number of websites, consultants, companies, and individuals who market themselves as offering help when their intent is to provide no help at all. It just seems like the arts should be different, and more genuine.
One example stands out. For four hundred fifty dollars I was promised a “Pro Review” of at least three hundred fifty words plus entry in their book contests and several additional services and benefits. They made no promises that the review would be good, only that it would be thorough, helpful, and from a “Pro.” As a first-time author, I thought this might be worth it, one time, regardless of the price and whether the review is good or bad. Instead, what I received was an eighty-four word generic summation and nothing more. Even worse, a close examination of the review revealed that fifty-two of those Eighty-four words were lifted directly from my own description of the book that I submitted to them. The only original thirty-two words contributed by this reviewer were these:
“Some poems vividly stand out for their direct unapologetic exploration of the tenderness of a human heart while others miss the mark with their over simplification of the many convolutions of a human mind.”
OK … I admit that this one-sentence evaluation may be a fair observation of portion(s) of my book. I also strongly suspect it may be true of nearly every book of poetry ever written. My complaint is not that the review was partly negative, but rather that the reviewer did not meet any of the obligations promised. Not even close. There was no depth, no insight, and no classification or grade assigned to the book despite the reviewer’s promises and substantial fee charged. Their website very clearly promises a grade from “Zero to Five” at the end of a “three hundred fifty-word review”. Notwithstanding the failure to produce what was promised, it was plainly obvious that the review was transported straight from some hallucinating AI software straight into my inbox. All of this for the low, low price of four hundred fifty dollars.
My lawyer looked at this and concluded that I have a legitimate case against them for not fulfilling their promises. Unfortunately, it is not worth pursuing because I lack something called “provable damages.” So instead, I asked my lawyer to contact the reviewer and instruct them to cancel every posting of the review and to remove my name completely from their records. The reviewer complied with this request, but I guess my lawyer is kind of a meanie so soon after that they quit responding to him.
To this particular reviewer, and all others like them, I ask to please take a look at Sonnet No. 10 from my book From the Shallow End to the Deep End. The motivation for this poem was an old memory of my daughter returning home from grade school, very proud over a picture she had drawn in art class. This is the same daughter who provided all the illustrations and cover for the book. Titled “Art (Hypo)Critics,” I find lines 5-8 particularly relevant in this context:
“Critics self-proclaim their good intentions
While politics and money pave their way,
Rather than to celebrate inventions
Listening to messages conveyed.”
When I began this project I understood that my creative choices would not appeal to everyone. In a literary world that increasingly celebrates free verse in poetry, I followed one of the oldest and most demanding poetic structures created, the Shakespearean Sonnet. Every poem in the book follows Shakespeare's fourteen line format. Each line flows in true iambic pentameter, and every quatrain and couplet rhyme precisely where required. This format alone discourages many readers and critics, who view the form as archaic and obsolete. If that is not intimidating enough, the book experiments with this centuries-old structure by exploring raw contemporary themes and by using conventional English language. For some, this simply doesn’t “fit.”
This merging of classical form with modern language makes the book unique, while to some it may be a bit rudimentary. I knew this project was a risk. I anticipated mixed reviews and virtually no commercial success. I did, however, hope for some literary recognition for creating something we don’t see much today.
All of this (and more) has happened, and my expectations have been far exceeded. Most of the responses and reviews I have received have been curious, sincere, thought-provoking, and sometimes deeply personal. Some readers have applauded the book’s return to formal poetic structure. Others have embraced its modern edges. Still others simply appreciate the emotional honesty woven throughout the constraints of rhyme and meter.
Don’t get me wrong. There has been plenty of outright rejection and negative feedback as well. My worst review to date is perhaps my favorite. It is eight words long and comes from my own brother:
“That book stinks! Thanks for the effort though.”
Which brings me to my point.
I have learned that the world of Indie writing and publishing has a very dark side to go with all the positives. Like many first-time authors, I knew nothing about the process or industry when I started. I sought help wherever I could find someone who offered it. I submitted my book to every reviewer and every contest I could find and that fit within my limited budget. These opportunities ranged from absolutely free to outrageously expensive.
Nothing surprised me more than the frustration over the vast number of websites, consultants, companies, and individuals who market themselves as offering help when their intent is to provide no help at all. It just seems like the arts should be different, and more genuine.
One example stands out. For four hundred fifty dollars I was promised a “Pro Review” of at least three hundred fifty words plus entry in their book contests and several additional services and benefits. They made no promises that the review would be good, only that it would be thorough, helpful, and from a “Pro.” As a first-time author, I thought this might be worth it, one time, regardless of the price and whether the review is good or bad. Instead, what I received was an eighty-four word generic summation and nothing more. Even worse, a close examination of the review revealed that fifty-two of those Eighty-four words were lifted directly from my own description of the book that I submitted to them. The only original thirty-two words contributed by this reviewer were these:
“Some poems vividly stand out for their direct unapologetic exploration of the tenderness of a human heart while others miss the mark with their over simplification of the many convolutions of a human mind.”
OK … I admit that this one-sentence evaluation may be a fair observation of portion(s) of my book. I also strongly suspect it may be true of nearly every book of poetry ever written. My complaint is not that the review was partly negative, but rather that the reviewer did not meet any of the obligations promised. Not even close. There was no depth, no insight, and no classification or grade assigned to the book despite the reviewer’s promises and substantial fee charged. Their website very clearly promises a grade from “Zero to Five” at the end of a “three hundred fifty-word review”. Notwithstanding the failure to produce what was promised, it was plainly obvious that the review was transported straight from some hallucinating AI software straight into my inbox. All of this for the low, low price of four hundred fifty dollars.
My lawyer looked at this and concluded that I have a legitimate case against them for not fulfilling their promises. Unfortunately, it is not worth pursuing because I lack something called “provable damages.” So instead, I asked my lawyer to contact the reviewer and instruct them to cancel every posting of the review and to remove my name completely from their records. The reviewer complied with this request, but I guess my lawyer is kind of a meanie so soon after that they quit responding to him.
To this particular reviewer, and all others like them, I ask to please take a look at Sonnet No. 10 from my book From the Shallow End to the Deep End. The motivation for this poem was an old memory of my daughter returning home from grade school, very proud over a picture she had drawn in art class. This is the same daughter who provided all the illustrations and cover for the book. Titled “Art (Hypo)Critics,” I find lines 5-8 particularly relevant in this context:
“Critics self-proclaim their good intentions
While politics and money pave their way,
Rather than to celebrate inventions
Listening to messages conveyed.”