Well That Was Quick

 

Despite Oscar Wilde's admonition that "All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling. To be natural is to be obvious, and to be obvious is to be inartistic,” I have a 'sincere' poem that I also think (thought?) is pretty good. 

I reviewed it with two writing groups and made some changes. (Mostly reducing the scope and increasing the narrative flow -- the major things I usually need to correct. Then I submitted it to a contest sponsored by a magazine one (meaning me and every other right-thinking person) would have thought would be open to a "Grandpa" theme. It was not listed even in the also-rans. 

Then, I submitted it to a few other (less likely by far) places, fingers crossed. Nope. 

Most recently I searched for other destinations listed on various "where to submit" websites as respectable good folks. And submitted "Grandpa" to them. One -- who describes itself as a Quarterly Literary Journal -- rejected my submission in less than one day. A new personal record.

OK, so the poem wasn't "literary" (meaning, I think, anguished people didn't suffer unspeakable tragedies with no real resolution). OK, I get it.

In the words of Sylvia Plath, "I love my rejection slips. They show me I try." I am currently waiting for the other responses.

I am reminded that one publisher once old Emily Dickinson that her poems were  "quite as remarkable for defects as for beauties," and, "generally devoid of true poetical qualities.”

So I'm not Emily Dickinson. Not by a long shot. Or anywhere in this universe.

But a form rejection in less than one day.