“Would you dig into your cash stash, for the privilege of playing the publishing game? Would you publish you?”
I ask that in Rumors of Water: Thoughts on Creativity & Writing, because we writers sometimes forget the investment a publishing house must make to publish us. It is costly, in terms of both time and money. A publishing house can easily spend anywhere from $2, 500 to $10, 000 to bring a book to market. It can easily spend more than a year to edit, design, and begin distribution and promotion of our book. So, in Rumors, I gently turn the tables and ask, What would you be willing to spend? Would you publish you?
Robert Frost was willing to spend a great deal.
Unable to find publishing success in America, he moved his family to Britain in 1912, paying for passage and housing. He spent two years networking in the British poetry community, for the chance at a few good reviews, so he could turn around and pay again—to return to America and get published on his home turf.
These were the days of Ezra Pound, William Butler Yeats, T. S. Eliot, Rupert Brooke, and someone you may not recognize: Edward Thomas.
Frost paid in public humiliation from Pound (a surprise judo throw in the middle of a restaurant, after which Frost would declare Pound an “incredible ass”). He paid in rejections from movers and shakers connected with the famous Poetry Book Shop and the Georgian poets. He paid in a “lesson in plain living, ” enduring a Beaconsfield bungalow that was more like camping than a homestead. He spent years, money, emotions, comfort. He paid his dues.
As writers—and I am not sure I understand this dynamic even in myself—we tend to think we are not going to have to stand in line, nor should we be required to do so. We romanticize the easy book deal or the quick move into major journals, magazines, or newspapers. I was reminded of this when a journalist associate told me how long a road it had been to get to The New York Times: twenty-two years. It encouraged me, in an odd sort of way, to keep on with my career and not to worry. Writing takes time. Getting published takes time. Not that this needs to be the goal for every writer, but if we are on a mission like Robert Frost, we should expect cost and passage.
In the end, it was a friendship, without a lot of publishing agenda, that propelled Frost where he wanted to go. Edward Thomas, who came to deeply respect Frost’s poetry, wrote reviews that tipped the scale. Frost would later say of Thomas that he was, “the only brother I ever had.” And he would mean it both professionally and personally.
I have never minded this: when people connect with me to get somewhere. After all, I appreciate the people who have given to me, to forward my career, and I am happy to do the same for others. But it is always a good reminder, for both myself and those I connect with… writing indeed takes time and standing in line. Even for someone who seems like a shoe-in. Even for a Robert Frost.
Photo by Claire Burge. Used with permission. Post by L.L. Barkat, author of Rumors of Water: Thoughts on Creativity & Writing.
For more on Robert Frost’s journey to getting published, and his vital friendship with Edward Thomas, check out Now All Roads Lead to France: A Life of Edward Thomas.
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Chris Yokel says
I’ve been thinking about that long term perspective a lot lately. Thank you for this reminder.
L. L. Barkat says
Cool. Anything that prompted that? 🙂
Maureen Doallas says
Every piece of writing, I think, is judged as if it’s the first; in that respect, the road toward publishing doesn’t necessarily have a final stop, unless one gives it up. It’s more like many, many different bus stops. You get on, you get off, but you keep going.
You have made it possible for many of us to have a space that lets our words breathe and shared. For that, I am so grateful. One lovely thing about you is how much you care.
L. L. Barkat says
I like that, Maureen. I hear a poem in it 🙂
And thank you, for that. I do care. A great deal. I want a space like that, for people. And not just for the sheer breathing, but the learning of controlled breathing, so if one wishes to do the marathon, why, one has the wherewithal to do it.
Will Willingham says
Interesting, to consider the beginning of the road, and all the way along the road, when we look at these now-revered poets and authors at the end stage. Easy to forget they didn’t wake up one morning to the sound of a publisher pounding on their door.
And a happy reminder of the sheer power of having someone in your corner. 🙂
L. L. Barkat says
And, in fact, they often had to do the pounding. (Thinking of Neruda now… “your petals pound the surface of the earth”). Persistence, even if gentle, is required 🙂
Yes, the power of having someone in our corner. Yes, the power of walking to someone else’s corner and saying, “I’m here. You look like a nice sort of fellow. Shall we do lunch?” )
Donna says
Juicy. Juicy. Juicy.
L. L. Barkat says
Donna, you make me laugh (you’ve got a wonderful comic side, did you know?)
Any particular part that felt juicy to you?
Donna says
HA! 😀 Now that made me laugh! I have never really given it much thought although I suppose having a mother who was a clown (not in the she’s-so-silly sense, but in the her-other-name-is-Patty-Cake sense) should have been my first clue. Ah but this is juice for another glass.
What is perhaps MOST juicy for me in your wonderful words above have to do with the concept of standing in line… what a fat berry that is. Squeeze it and out pour so many images of people standing in lines, simultaneously many lines at once, in varying placement in relation to the front of each one (and that is always changing). It’s a fluid thing, this Lines idea. I immediately thought “I think we are ALWAYS standing in line although not always so willing to admit it or surrender to it…” followed by “we don’t like the lines” followed but “but some lines… some lines are quite comfy for a million grapevines worth of reasons” followed by “some lines might be so comfy we never want to leave them so we may even let other people ahead of us in line (especially if they only have a few items)” ;). So you see, you are always running a risk when you ask me what I was thinking…. I just might tell you, and that could take a while. A bit of controlled breathing/juicing is in order… so before I spin out of control and get drunk on the idea I’ll stop before I step over another line and juice the Vygotsky out of it.
L. L. Barkat says
I love when you explain your thinking. It only seems to deepen with the explanation. And, again, you make me laugh (and think).
I am now considering the criss-crossing lines and how it gets hard to tell who’s where doing what. Maybe relates to Maureen’s comment above.
If you stand in line with me, I might want a sip of that wine you are waving around so jubilantly 🙂
Donna says
I love Maureen’s use of busses… On and off and moving forward… Yesss!!! Maureen, I love that whole vision it conjours up. Traveling…. Shifting… Which luggage to bring? Gaining ground can happen in so many ways, and it’s not always linear, is it?!
This is all reminding me of a poem I wrote a few years back… Something about layers…..
Raising a glass to standing in line together…. 🙂
Sandra Heska King says
In the end it was a friendship…
And that was the beginning.
It’s hard to remember that the world wasn’t groveling at their feet back then. And standing in line can get hard on the feet.
P.S. I’m glad you’re my friend.
L. L. Barkat says
That friendship was dear to both of them. Robert Frost saw in Edward Thomas a poet ready to be born (Thomas had been a prolific prose writer).
And the two shared a philosophy about naturalness of speech in verse, which was so interesting, being that they were from different places/backgrounds and the world was not really accustomed to such a philosophy yet. Seems they found in each other a kindred intellectual soul.
I wonder where we get these ideas (me included) that publishing was easy for them and should be for us.
I’m glad you’re my friend too. It makes standing in line such a happier thing, when one has good company 🙂
Megan Willome says
I think you’ve been an Edward Thomas for a lot of people.
L. L. Barkat says
Thank you, Megan.
What struck me about their relationship was the vitality of the exchange. How they made each other think. How they changed each other’s lives. Frost lured the poet out of Thomas, which was a crowning gift to a latent poet. And Thomas paved the way for Frost’s poetry to find a wider audience, with strong reviews.
But all of it, all of it seemed to issue from their genuine like and respect for one another’s true skills and being.
Surazeus Simon Seamount says
I am afraid I have to disagree that Ezra Pound was mean to Robert Frost. I was intrigued by the jujitsu in a restaurant, so I googled, and found this Art of Poetry Interview with Frost from the Paris Review in 1960. Frost indicates he and Pound were friends, that Pound reviewed his first book, and that the jujitsu in the restaurant was a friendly thing. Pound took Frost to a restaurant and suddenly decided to demonstrate jujitsu, and threw Frost over his head.
http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/4678/the-art-of-poetry-no-2-robert-frost
INTERVIEWER
Was there much bohemia to see at that time?
FROST
More than I had ever seen. I’d never had any. He’d take me to restaurants and things. Showed me jujitsu in a restaurant. Threw me over his head.
INTERVIEWER
Did he do that?
FROST
Wasn’t ready for him at all. I was just as strong as he was. He said, “I’ll show you, I’ll show you. Stand up.” So I stood up, gave him my hand. He grabbed my wrist, tipped over backwards and threw me over his head.
INTERVIEWER
How did you like that?
FROST
Oh, it was all right. Everybody in the restaurant stood up.
L. L. Barkat says
Interesting, Surazeus.
The quote about Pound being an ass is from further information about that incident in the book ‘All Roads Lead to France.’ The book also outlays even more of the complications between Frost and Pound (which came after some initial positive reviews from Pound). This is one reason it was to Frost’s credit that he later helped Pound after Pound received accusations of treason by the U.S. government. Maybe check out the book, which is much more in depth? Would love to hear your thoughts after that.
That said, Frost was also a bit infamous for giving different impressions to different audiences and these were even different from his personal journals. He is said to have told people they should “check up” on him, since he knew this about himself and enjoyed having a bit of “fun” with people.
Let me know if you follow up with some off-line research? 🙂
Mark Ettinger says
I imagine how great it would be for someone to ask you to speak at their event and your reply is: ” No, I’m sorry I can’t make it.” Or a publisher asks if they can publish your writing and you say: “No, thank you – not interested.” I think that compliments are the biggest neglect in writers circles. Conversely, superficial, pseudo-compliments,just to stroke someone, are just as bad. I always compliment good writing to encourage people, though if something is just not on the scale, I say nothing. Though who is to say what is good and what is bad? Writing,especially poetry, comes from the heart and soul of a person and is always worthy to its creator. Readers and listeners have a different perspective though. Writers who want to be published must figure out those perspectives. I’m still trying.
Rebecca D. Martin says
Good, good reminder. Thank you for the encouragement, and the reset vantage.
L.L. Barkat says
You’re welcome, Rebecca. 🙂 I think we all need a little reset from time to time, and I’m grateful when that happens, too.