poets always want to know what it is that gets a poem accepted. the most honest answer i can think of to this is that a poem is accepted based on an editor’s general temperament. originally, literary magazines were staffed with people with PhDs in english or literature or what have you and therefore they Knew What Was Good Writing and were qualified to judge it. in college litmags the staffers are students who are (theoretically) still learning what Is Good Writing and still read under the tutelage of a senior editor who Knows For Sure. then there were the poetry magazines started by the poets. and now there are litmags all over the damn placed staffed by any number of people from any number of backgrounds. so i think that, providing you are not submitting to someplace long-standing and constipated like the New Yorker, you can owe a rejection of a good poem to the editor’s temperament.
therefore, i have taken to wondering what influences my “temperament” and indeed many people have received rejections from me requesting that they submit again. while i can’t define what my preferences ARE, i can define, for myself, what should not influence my judgement of poetry. i present to you, then, my editor’s pledge.
as the editor of PIL:
- i pledge not to read submissions when i am depressed, because i know that if i do this my foul mood colors every poem and makes it ugly.
- i pledge not to read submissions when i am drinking, because i know that if i do this my intoxication colors every poem and makes it look better than it is.
- i pledge not to read submissions when i have something else nagging away at me, because i know if i do this i will rush through submissions and probably not read them thoroughly. this “something else” applies to writing, chores, homework, a waiting bowel movement, or drum practice.
- on the same note, i pledge not to ignore submissions simply because 100 unimportant things are nagging away at me. these “unimportant things” include dirty dishes, half-finished crochet projects, the plaintive cries of an obese cat who would prefer to eat inside rather than out despite the fact that his food is outside, studying for tests, hemming curtains, eating dinner, and gathering up wayward diet coke cans around the house.
- i pledge to read each submission thoroughly, even if the poem falls under the “things we don’t publish” as listed in the second issue.
- i pledge to respond to all submissions, even if it takes 1,000 years as was the case with the paper ones, which are all up to date now, thankfully.
can you think of anything to add?