Earl Gray

Earl Gray
"You can argue with me but, in the end, you'll have to face that fact that you're arguing with a squirrel." - Earl Gray
Showing posts with label Commercial poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Commercial poetry. Show all posts

Monday, July 9, 2012

The Difference an Audience Makes - Part I

A Public Safety Officer sees a blind woman walking toward an open manhole. Should the PSO warn her?  Or say nothing?

You might expect that, barring a psychopath or two, everyone would say "Yes, warn her!" even if it were not the PSO's job. What ethical person would remain silent there?

Jan Zwicky
This is what reviewers do. They buoy works, boosting the profiles of great novels such as "Stone Diaries" while placing markers over "Howard the Duck" so we'll avoid it. In fact, it doesn't even have to be a full review; a rating on a "Best of..." list might suffice for the impatient web surfer. For this service we are all grateful.

Thus, when some ignore my advice to the contrary and read "The Ethics of the Negative Review" by Jan Zwicky they are gobsmacked. It's not merely the sloppy editing; much of the verbiage is an argument against bringing up various tangents in the first place. We can only guess Ms. Zwicky's DELete key is broken. No, what amazes many is the central thesis that reviewers, not to be confused with blurbers, are meanies. In addition to all of the objections raised by Michael Lista in "On Poetry: The good in bad reviews", there is the painfully obvious point that the "ethics" of bad reviews is the very same as the "ethics" of good ones: "Ya calls 'em as ya sees 'em."

End of story, right?

Michael Lista
People from outside the poetry worlds would certainly think so. Of what use would Rex Reed or Siskel and Hebert have been if they didn't pan clunkers? Ditto fiction critics.

Online poets certainly don't have a problem with negative feedback. (Feel free to test this with your own discussion thread:  blog, Facebook, newslist, etc.  Ask:  "How do you feel about negative reviews in poetry?"). By definition, online workshoppers regularly engage in constructive critique, based as it is on a negative premise: this poem isn't perfect yet. That is their focus:  poems, not poets.  As a group they discuss technique and originality, always with a view toward the existing poetry audience.

The problem with "the existing poetry audience" is that it doesn't actually exist, which makes any question about reviews--or poetry itself--all the more existential. If there is no audience--and there isn't--then there is no blind woman striding toward an open sewer. Indeed, there are no residents at all. What does it matter if there is a pitfall in a ghost town?  What purpose is served by pointing out this carelessness beyond gratuitously embarrassing the worker who forgot to replace the manhole cover?  Someone's job could be on the line here.

We need another analogy.

By definition, those in the careerist world endeavor to create an attractive CV and acquire a job teaching poetry. Get a book or two published in a local/university press and a few poems in high profile literary magazines, none of which are targeted beyond their academic contributors. Virtually any wan, allusive, intellectualized prose will suffice. Get a few well known friends to blurb it and you're good to go.

Seen in this light, negative reviewers become unwelcome interlopers. It is as if they are barging into a job interview to tell the prospector employer that the applicant is a poo-head.

Meanies.





Wednesday, May 4, 2011

The Watermelon Problem - Part I

     Please take this Commercial Poetry Challenge:  Go to, say, Poetry Magazine and try to read the verse there without saying to yourself:  "Surely they have better submissions than this...!" followed by the inevitable "So what do they do with the good stuff?"



My neighbor is trying to grow watermelon. Again. Being a squirrel, I watch her progress with considerable interest. Unfortunately, she is no gardener. Her failure stems from a lack of acreage and/or education; a watermelon requires its own mound and considerable distance between plants.

Suppose you were to have encountered a blindingly brilliant poem. For the sake of argument, let's say there is no argument; this was, flat out, one of the two or three greatest poems of our time. Chances are good that you read or heard the poem at a slam, reading, open mic or in a book, workshop or 'zine. Chances are good that fifteen seconds after those transcendental moments your reverie was broken by another poem. Chances are good that you've already spotted The Watermelon Problem.

Put such a poem anywhere near another and both will suffer from the juxtaposition. The lesser work is being upstaged while the better one creates, at best, a certain guilt by association or, at worst, a situation where proximity is profanity.

    As a vendor, don't get so addicted to such sweetness that you reject lesser fruit.  The supply of watermelon is too short and the off-season too long for your business to survive selling only watermelon.

     As an Editor-in-Chief of a premier literary magazine what do you do if such an unpublished poem drops into your lap? Yes, I know, you publish it, but where and how?

If you include it in your usual lineup of new poems, without comment, you might give people the impression that you don't recognize the difference between "good enough to publish" and spectacular. If you acknowledge the fact that this poem doesn't belong with the others you insult the rest of your lineup. Obvious solution: Create an unscheduled special edition featuring that poem and no other.

Give the watermelon its mound and space.



I should stop here but I can never quit while I'm ahead. The question arises: "What does it say when a periodical has no such special editions?"



Soon: The Only Question that Matters



Links:


Monday, May 2, 2011

Time for some good news

In previous posts we've demonstrated the obvious: poetry is dead, killed by music [on the radio]. Today we'll see that the corpse has, if not a pulse, a promising future as a re-incarnate or reanimation. We begin with some seemingly unrelated observations:

1. Apples and Oranges:

"Want to make popularity based on sales as the criterion of poetic worth? Think about the following:

"Bestselling poet in England between 1560 and 1640 (the era of Sidney, Spenser, Shakespeare, Jonson, Donne, Herbert, and the early Milton, to name just a few) -- Thomas Tusser (he outsold most of those poets even when you take all their works sold during that period combined).

"Bestselling English poet between 1890 and 1914 (era of Housman, late Tennyson and Browning, Hardy, and numerous others of note) -- Norman Rowland Gale."

- (Gazebo, 2007-03-19)

Can you spot the flaw in this argument?

2. Feedback:

Many audience members love the chance to respond. The Internet enables this, as with Facebook's Thumps Up feature, YouTube's Thumbs Up/Down option, and numeric evaluations on discussion software packages like VBulletin (1-to-10) or sites like Zoetrope (1-to-5). These are things that a computer can easily collect, quantify and report. What effect will this have on the audience's role in artistic expression?

3. Distribution:

Previously unknown artist Will-I-Am took Barack Obama's "Yes We Can" speech and made it into a found poem, set it to music and watched it "go viral" on the internet within days, profoundly affecting history. Compare this to the resounding thud of Elizabeth Alexander's inaugural poem. What lessons can we learn from this?

4. Icons:

Celebrities such as Jewel Kilcher, Suzanne Summers and ex-President Jimmy Carter have written books of poetry without much critical or commercial success. Meanwhile, aside from Dr. Seuss, the most successful recent U.S. poets have been Billy Collins, Charles Bukowski and Maya Angelou, all of whom had to augment their income in order to survive. Even their fans are hard pressed to quote their work from memory. Indeed, New York Yankee baseball player Yogi Berra has contributed more to modern idiom and culture than all six of these "poets" combined. How can we expect this art to thrive with no commercial, cultural or aesthetic success stories? Art without money? Maybe. Art without impact? Unlikely. Art without art? No, thanks.

4. Development:

Online educational resources, coupled with Internet workshops, offer unprecedented opportunities for aspiring poets to develop their technique and critical judgement. Those who don't avail themselves of this information will have difficulty competing against those who do. What does that say about the quality of poetry in future generations?

5. Convenience and Economy:

The online version of the same poem, published by the same editor, will get many times the viewers than the print version will. This is true even of archives, where the reader has to wait a month or more. E-Book sales are gaining on books purchased from brick-and-mortar stores. What opportunities and challenges does this present editors?

6. E-Commerce:

The Internet is in its infancy. E-commerce standards and prices are downright antediluvian. At present, tiny amounts are simply not worth collecting; the online banking concern scoops up all such proceedings. What might happen if this were to change? Bearing in mind that it is all automated, who would turn down even a fraction of a penny every time people arrive at a popular commercial site? More to the point, what does this have to do with poetry?

When dealing with anything cheap and plentiful, like poetry, filters become paramount. Which of these can a consumer trust?

Let's consider some inferences and conclusions that we can draw from these observations and arguments.

  1. The "Apples and Oranges" error was in comparing the book and magazine sales of an author, Tusser, to those of a dramatist, Shakespeare. Compare book, magazine and ticket sales and we'll notice that, thanks to the latter, Shakespeare outsold Tusser, Gale and all of the other poets mentioned combined. Maybe those people in Shakespeare's pits weren't such unreliable taste indicators after all!

    Conclusion: Just as "the customer is always right", there is no better judge than the audience. We must be careful not to confuse this broad audience with the public; our purview is limited to those who enjoy any of the media that may contain poetry: dramatizations, books, magazines, movies, videos, television montages, et cetera.

  2. The broader the feedback, the more useful it is to any art or artist seeking wider appeal. The internet's ability to collect, collate and rationalize such evaluative feedback is unprecedented, thanks largely to people who were able to stay awake longer in Stats class than I ever could. Once formats are standardized a web search will be able to fetch results sorted by quality, best first. For example, were you to type "sonnet" into such a futuristic web browser you would see a list with Sonnet LXXIII at or near the top. Want something newer? "Sonnet 2006" would lead you directly to "Antiblurb" by A.E. Stallings.

    Conclusion: Poems will have to compete on merit. That's a good thing.


  3. On July 14, 2009, while Harriet was still an interactive blog, John Oliver Simon wrote:

    "We 'high culture' poets don’t like to look at categories this way,
    but…

    "Bob Dylan is the most important American poet of the last fifty years.
    By far. And he has never lacked for an audience.

    "Dylan took an end run around 'poetry' the same way Shakespeare did,
    by casting it into a popular, low-culture, out-of-category form.

    "I mean, what has Ashbery, or Charles Bernstein, or Sharon Olds, or
    Billy Collins, or anybody you love or I love, got to put up [a]gainst
    'to live outside the law you must be honest'?

    "And it’s all right, Ma."

    Conclusion: It doesn't take a Shakespearean scholar, film director or a musicologist to tell us that poetry works best when combined with other art forms into a dual- or multimedia presentation, if not a dramatization. Granted, "Yes We Can" was more rhetoric and song than poetry but it brings us closer to that one big breakthrough--the poem that everyone will know--and demonstrates that verse's future is on YouTube, not Amazon.com. As for Ms. Alexander, children may love being read to. Adults? Not so much.

  4. Have you ever noticed how the songs that made the Beatles famous (e.g. "She Loves You", "I Wanna Hold Your Hand") are not the ones being played on the Golden Oldy stations? Rather, we hear the songs that have a little more gravitas in their lyrics (e.g. "Eleanor Rigby", Lennon's "Imagine").

    Conclusion: Quality outs, although it may take its time doing so. H.L. Mencken (1880-1956) said: "No one ever went broke underestimating the taste of the American public." Nevertheless, we notice how, despite the hype, Americans judiciously rejected those six "popular" "poets" (Jewel Kilcher, Suzanne Summers, Jimmy Carter, Billy Collins, Charles Bukowski and Maya Angelou), whose combined income from poetry amounts to less than Robert Service made from one poem.

  5. Thanks to online workshops and educational resources which, unlike textbooks, can be challenged and corrected in situ, the hobbyist of the near future may be more knowledgeable about the elements of the craft than today's MFA graduate.

    "The simplest schoolboy is now familiar with truths for which Archimedes would have sacrificed his life."

    - Ernest Renan

    Conclusion: The poets of 2050 will be markedly better than those of 1950. You heard it here first!

  6. "Show me the money!"

    Most webzines, including some of the better ones, are labors of love. A few receive government funding while some get advertising revenues but both of those sources of funding are drying up. Only a very few magazines and even fewer webzines are paying venues. In short, there is little enough money in print poetry and virtually none in online verse. The good news is that a webzine can cost less than $10.00 per month to maintain.

    Suppose you went to an online poetry venue and were greeted with a screen asking for a nickel per visit or $1.00 for a yearly subscription. Would you allow the charge? If you say "no" you'd be guided to a limited access, sampler version of the website. If you say "yes", you and thousands like you may have solved the venue's financial problems.

    It will take a few years before we see such integration among the web sites, personal profiles and the banks. Nevertheless, the future will involve multimedia, portability, convenience, quality, feedback, access, traffic volume and low costs for both publishers (including archived versions of print publications) and consumers.

    Conclusion: Once the educational, critical, promotional and financial considerations mature into convergence the opportunities for poetry will reach heights not envisioned in even the golden era of verse. This inevitability could take a generation or two, though.


One final thought: We speak in terms of an impatient soundbyte generation with the attention span of a gnat on bennies dispensing fame in 15 minute doses. How could that be anything but fertile ground for an art form that prides itself on concision?



Soon: Literacy's Distortions


Want to be Earl Gray for a Day? Email your tongue-in-cheek rant to p.gardener123@gmail.com . Feel free to use simple HTML tags as necessary.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Who Killed Poetry?

This mystery survived for almost a century after the crime. Forensics determined that the fatal blow was struck in the 1920s, the patient lingering for a while afterwards. Suspects and speculations were legion. My favorite crackpot theory is that bridge was to blame. You know, the card game. It's not quite as outlandish as you may think. The timing is right: bridge was invented in the late 1920s. The demographics are right: bridge supplanted poetry as a social medium for young sophisticates before the 1970s and is still the favored diversion of retirees. Perhaps most importantly, bridge became the venue for celebrities including, among many others, John Wayne and Omar Sharif 30-40 years ago, Bill Gates and Alan Alda today. By contrast, poets didn't tend to be as photogenic or refined. In the 1980s I suppose you could, with some effort, dress up Charles Bukowski and Alan Ginsberg but you certainly couldn't take them anywhere.

The prime suspect had always been Modernism in general, non-metrical poetry in particular. This theory fails for a simple reason: the suspect wasn't within a continent of the crime scene. Indeed, the two are not even in the same dimension. Before giving up entirely, trade magazines and newspapers published almost exclusively popular verse. Free verse and prose poetry are and were largely limited to literary magazines. Poetry's death scene was far more public than that. Thus, when we say "poetry is dead" we really mean "commercial poetry is dead" or, if you prefer, "'popular poetry' is an oxymoron". Academic poetry is doing just fine, thanks to the largesse of taxpayers and, occasionally, patrons.

Question: If John Q. Jones pumps a dozen bullets into someone and, much later, an attending doctor removes life support, who killed the victim?

Today, we will finally unmask the gunman, whose identity will surprise many. We will reveal his motive as being, essentially, what we now call "identity theft". We begin, though, by unveiling the physician who put the patient out of its misery by removing the lifeline.

Ah, the lifeline. That was the clue. There are so few people who were alive when poetry mattered that our CSI team was forced to rely on historical accounts. Our investigation indicates that poetry's lifeline--its lifeblood--was the free and open exchange of verse among those who loved it. This knowledge led to us to the physician.

The doctor was born in Berne, Switzerland, in 1886, and graduated on July 1, 1909. Starting on January 1st, 1923, as a precaution against possible pandemics, this physician initiated a worldwide quarantine, preventing the free proliferation of poetry. This isolation, which was intended to protect poetry, cut it off from its life source. Worse yet, because poetry could not breed in captivity, it perished without issue.

Discovering the role of Copyright Law didn't bring us much closer to the shooter, though. Who and where was the mysterious Mr. John Q. Jones?

"Follow the money."

Who profited from this unspeakable crime?

Our historical research proved that before WWI people could recite dozens of recent poems but could sing along to only a few contemporary songs. Why? Convenience. Poems appearing in magazines and newspapers might be heard in bars or parlors later that same day. Songs required either a touring band or the purchase of sheet music and considerable practice. One rarely heard the same song more than once a week.

Radio reversed this, starting in the early 1920s. With the drop of a needle listeners from L.A. to New York could hear the same song. If a hit, they'd hear it again and again. Immediately, the poetry/songs ratio reversed. Today, the average individual can recite the words to thousands of contemporary songs but nary a single contemporary poem.

Indeed, the complete disappearance of poetry has given rise to conspiracy theories, speculating that poetry staged its own death, had a makeover and is living on in lyrics.

Songwriters who have profited from poetry's demise or metamorphosis don't deny this.

Do you, Mr. Jones?



Coming Soon: Time for some good news


Sunday, June 20, 2010

Commercial Poetry: Definition and Overview


Commercial Poetry

"Poetry, like bread, is for everyone."

- Nicaraguan poet Roque Dalton

What is "commercial poetry"?

To many, it is an oxymoron:

  1. "Poetry doesn't pay!"


  2. “There's no money in poetry, but then there's no poetry in money, either.” - Robert Graves


  3. "Art should never be compromised by popular appeal."

To others it is an anachronism, harkening back to a time when poetry was in every newspaper and magazine, when poets were like today's rock starts and a person could make $500,000 from one poem.

Commercial poetry is defined as any verse or free verse written for and marketed to an audience beyond poets themselves. While the expressions are hardly interchangeable, commercial poetry is often associated with popular and even traditional poetry. It is distinguished from "poets' poetry", which is related to "academic" or "literary" poetry--the kinds found primarily in books, literary magazines and webzines. Typically, novice poetry is writer-centered. Poets' poetry is, by definition, writers-centered. Commercial poetry is audience-centered. Among its many types are:

  • Occasional: Inaugurations, weddings, funerals, retirements, graduations, speeches, etc.

    Few can speak with the eloquence of a poet. There may be enumerable opportunities for poets to write personalized verse for special occasions. How many wedding planners are there in your state/province? In your country? In the English-speaking world?


  • Entertainment: Humour, drama, romance, etc.

    This is the category which has declined most precipitously in the last century. Humourous verse still appears occasionally in trades like Playboy and The Readers' Digest, but reliance on the page is a questionable strategy. What about other media? Is dramatic poetry really dead? Would an audience know or care that a play or film is in blank verse? Far more common is the embedding of poetry into films like "Dead Poets Society" and "Poetic Justice", or on television episodes.

    If you (and your publisher?) cannot distance yourself from books as a medium, consider Contest Publication marketing. I love this idea because it is based on audience participation: contribute to an anthology of contemporary performance- and audience-oriented poems. The publisher holds a contest for the best video presentation of any of these poems. The video can be anything from a camcorded recital to a vignette or slideshow. Entrants need only post their efforts on a site like YouTube and email the URL to contest organizers. No entry fee.


  • Educational: Didactic, historical, elegies, etc.

    Any lesson/synopsis on any [not too serious] subject benefits from verse.

    Find out what documentary films are being produced. Write a poem on that subject and see if they can use it, perhaps as a preface or coda.

    Can you think of anything more boring than assembly instructions? Imagine doing some in verse for, say, a toy manufacturer. This may be the one time that commerical poets need to think inside the box!


  • Promotional: Commercial jingles, political speechwriting/sloganeering, praise poems, etc.

    In the early 1970s, my editor won $1,000,000 by writing a grand total of five words before retiring on the proceeds. At $200,000 per word, that may seem like serious coin, but it's chickenfeed compared to what can be made today by producing the next motto of a large corporation. Similarly, Will I Am hasn't been a pauper since his rendition of "Yes We Can" hit the airwaves.

    Breaking into the speechwriting business is surprisingly easy. Go to a candidate's website and start typing. Indeed, this is a rare opportunity for popularizing free verse or prose poetry. (For obvious reasons, most commercial poetry is verse.)

    The jingles business may seem tougher; there are countless ad agencies standing in line in front of us. Nevertheless, those think tanks and their sponsors aren't shy about approaching anyone who produces words that might sell their products.


  • Appreciational: Greeting cards, praise poems, etc.

    Greeting cards are the single most lucrative poetry market--even larger than a successful pop song. What if Hallmark isn't hiring, though? Hold that thought!


  • Kitsch: On T-Shirts, crests, placemats, plaques, photos, paraphernalia, buses, etc.

    Take a photo, type a poem overtop of it, add a logo and send it to a restaurant chain. Repeat as necessary.

    Write an epic poem with a local setting. Guilt your town council into printing it out, one stanza at a time, on signs along a scenic path. Continue doing this so that, for variety, the poems can be rotated on different walkways around town. Argue that it encourages fitness.

    Add some class to an establishment with a poetry staircase, as seen on Dorianne Laux's Facebook page: patrons read one or two lines on each step as they ascend. Present it as a safety feature, encouraging people to slow down and "watch their step".

    Write a stunner sonnet. Show it to no one but the transit authority, encouraging them to put one line on each bus, trolley or train as part of a contest to see who can reconstruct the entire poem. Tell them it will boost interest in public transportation.


  • Niche: Special interests: particular sports, games, hobbies or occupations.

    Most unions, professions, and pastimes have a ruling body that produces a glossy bulletin for its members or afficionados. Some even have television access, as with the NFL Network. Given the lack of competition--many won't have had a poem submitted in decades--publishing in these paying venues is often a slam dunk.


  • Juvenilia: Nursery rhymes, "teenspleen", etc.

    The deaths of Dr. Suess and Charles Bukowski have created something of a vacuum.


  • Song lyrics: Theme songs to movies and TV shows, popular songs, operas, etc.

    If you don't have musical skills you can find a busker on any street corner--they're almost as numerous as poets. The typical approach is to write songs and hope to crack the radio market directly. Yeah, good luck with that!

    A much easier course is to write theme songs for movies or television pilots. In the time it took you to read this far hundreds of films went into production. Seeing what a great theme song can do for a movie, you'd think the music would be a high priority for directors. You'd be wrong.

    One day before they were supposed to begin final editing, the producers of "The Thomas Crown Affair" suddenly realized they didn't have a theme song. Overnight, one of them managed to hit a grand slam: "Windmills of Your Mind". Get your song into the hands of anyone on the set--even a lowly Production Assistant--and you may be surprised at how quickly it is gobbled up.


If you dream of winning a Nobel, Pulitzer or Griffin Prize you are a literary poet. If you fantasize about winning an Oscar, Emmy or CLIO, you are a commercial poet. Do you submit your work primarily to art-related publishers? Or do you seek an audience larger than the average tea room?

Consider these seemingly contradictory fact lists:

  1. Expressed as a percentage of the population, fewer people purchase or read poetry than at any time in the past.


  2. Only a tiny minority of people living today can cite a single line of contemporary poetry.


  3. Not one person is making a comfortable living from the publication of poetry in books, magazines and webzines.


  4. Few people can name more than 3 living poets or the title of a single volume of contemporary poetry.


  1. That there is more money being made today from verse--a mere subset of poetry--than at any time in human history.


  2. More people listen to verse today than at any time in human history.


  3. The biggest selling author of the 20th century wrote nothing but rhyming verse.


  4. Poets rank among the best known celebrities.


How can both sets of facts be true?

The answer lies in how precisely we use the terms "poet" or "poetry". If we are talking about "literary poetry", the stuff we read in existing e-zines, magazines and books, the first list pertains. Only when we use the broader, dictionary definition of poetry does the second set of facts come into play. The nursery rhyme, the advertising jingle, the songs we listen to on our radios and IPods, many of the slogans we see on bumper stickers, greeting card doggerel, these are all poetry. N.B.: No one specified good poetry. Yet.

Consider these two poems:


  • You'll wonder where the yellow went
    when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent.



  • That time of year thou mayst in me behold
    When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
    Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
    Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
    In me thou seest the twilight of such day
    As after sunset fadeth in the west,
    Which by and by black night doth take away,
    Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
    In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
    That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
    As the death-bed whereon it must expire
    Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
    This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
    To love that well which thou must leave ere long.



Shakespeare's Sonnet LXXIII needs no defence. It might be a consensus choice as the greatest poem of all time. Nevertheless, the jingle has considerable technical merit, too. Note the effective "w" alliteration, the perfect vowel-by-vowel rhyme of "yellow went" and "Pepsodent", the metronome-breaking anapest starting L2, the positional assonance of short and long "u" sounds in the first foot of each line and the repetition of "r" sounds in the ensuing syllables, "-er where" and "your". All of these may explain why, despite our best efforts to lose it, this jingle sticks in our minds long after we've forgotten others of that ilk and era.

Both poems are masterpieces of their genres. Before you guffaw at the notion that they are equal, consider the viewpoint of the sponsor and ask yourself: "How many tubes of toothpaste did Sonnet LXXIII sell?" Each genre has its own aims and poems can only be judged based on their success at achieving those targets. Even if we believe one genre inherently superior to another we must bear in mind the famous Payton-Suey joke:

Chicago running backs Walter Payton and Matt Suey were camping in the arctic. Payton dashed into their tent and began hurriedly donning his track shoes. Suey asked what was happening. Payton explained that a hungry polar bear was on its way.

"You can't outrun a polar bear!" scoffed Suey.

"I don't need to," countered Payton. "I just need to outrun you!"


To be a successful commercial poet you don't need to be the best poet alive. You don't even need to be the best commercial poet around. You just need to be at least as good as anyone else in that specific genre or contest.

The key words are imagination and initiative. There is a story told in some detail of a woman who made custom greeting cards to order. Just before major holidays she would set up a kiosk in an area heavily trafficked by forgetful, procrastinating business people (there's another kind?). The customer would select a floral design and a poem before the recipient's full name was entered into a laptop. Why the full name, when only the first will appear on the card? Because before printing it out the lady could warn the customer that someone had already bought that same card for that person--maybe even that same customer the year before! (I did say "forgetful", right?) The entrepreneur would fold the paper, fresh out of the printer, into a card and then, as a final touch, scent the envelope to match the floral design. The lady charged an exhorbitant price but, because the recipients loved the cards so much, no one complained. When you clear $4,000 on a Valentines Day lunch hour you really don't have to work more than a week or two a year.

Quality and Qualities

We shouldn't assume that commercial poetry appeals only to non-poets. The greatest commercial poet of all time, William Shakespeare, kept the Globe and Blackfriars theatres alive selling [dramatic] poetry into a population decimated by the bubonic plague.

Granted, most commercial poetry is trash but Sturgeon's Revelation, "90% of everything is crud", rules commercial and literary poetry alike. Is this a problem or an opportunity? The cultural "attention deficit disorder" that Edward Hirsch mentions requires that speech be expressed in sound bytes. How can this need for compression be anything but good for poetry?

To quantify this gaping opportunity consider this question: "Does any lyricist believe s/he can't write better verse than Bernie Taupin?"

Quality survives, especially in commercial verse. Leonard Cohen's earliest songs (e.g. "Suzanne", "Bird on a Wire") are still being played on the radio. Does anyone under 50 know or care who The 1910 Fruitgum Company or Grand Funk Railroad were? Look at how many theme songs are written by the greatest lyricists of our time: Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Buffy Ste. Marie, etc. The right song can help make a film (e.g. "The Rose", "Moon River", "White Christmas", "Up Where We Belong", "Windmills of Your Mind", etc.). This explains why these authors usually want a percentage of the gross. Would you rather have $100 from this film and $1,000,000 from the next or a flat $1,000 from all of them? (That $1,000 isn't a figure plucked from air; it is exactly what John Stewart made from selling the recording and television rights of "Daydream Believer" to the Monkees.)

Persistent is the notion that "academic" poets are more technically sound than popular ones. Indeed, this used to be true. For example, T.S. Eliot and Ezra Pound were infinitely superior prosodists to Robert Service and Edna St. Vincent Millay. Since then, though, practical commercial poets continue to study the basics while MFA, MA and PhD students graduate without knowing even the most rudimentary aspects of scansion, jargon or technique. The tortoises have left the hares in the dust.

Are there other fundamental differences between the two cultures, commercial and literary? Certainly, not the least of which is the fact that there is no commercial poetry culture. This is less a reflection of their sparse numbers than their:


  • independence/granularity - How much would a jingle writer, a lyricist and a documentary poet have to discuss?


  • competitiveness - "Does Macy's tell Gimbel's?" Canadian translation: "Does Eton's tell The Bay?"


  • anonymity - Who knows who wrote the Pepsodent jingle?



Clearly, there isn't the sense of tshinanu that we see among the literaries. Perhaps owing to the fact that other poets are not their audience, blurbing is a concept foreign to commercial poets.


Skills, Context and Technology

New technology can be viewed in any of three ways:


  • a benign continuation of poetry's existing nature, adding only new venues and media;

    Many remain oblivious or indifferent to technological possibilities. Their online participation, if any, is usually limited to social (e.g. Twitter, Facebook), PoBiz (e.g. Harriet) or "theme theory" (i.e. manifestos arguing that poems about such-and-such are inherently superior to ones about so-and-so, that philosophical or allusive poems are preferable to emotive, dramatic or humourous ones, etc.).


  • an advance, redefining poetry as it takes art into a new realm;

    Poets' poets, perhaps in an attempt to mollify their potential market (i.e. other poets), may argue that novel outlets will somehow expand the definition of poetry, even beyond the "anything goes" stance already taken.


  • a rediscovery of poetry's theatrical origins.

    If we watched a play or movie where the actors were reading from a script would we think the production unprofessional? If so, how do we suppose the public feels about poetry readings?

    Barring concrete poems, acrostics and the like, what is the role of the written word in performance arts like film, theatre and poetry? Answer: none beyond connecting the author with contemporary and future performers.

If we accept poetry as primarily an audiovisual art form, today's successful poet needs to employ other skills, beginning with the ability to perform. Photography, film/video, slide shows, web design, music and promotion are some of these other avenues that may need to be mastered or achieved through networking/collaboration.

The academic poet treats readers like peers or students, expecting a greater appetite and a more fungible definition of poetry. They believe in bulk. Theirs is the poetry book, 'zine or reading. Some will enjoy an occasional slam or open mike. The experience becomes a collage that overloads the senses: an elegy is followed by a bawdy tale, a parable, a joke, then a rant about depersonalization. Audience members feel like foster children being bandied from home to home, or like teenagers learning about the evils of tobacco/alcohol by being forced to smoke/drink until they vomit. The poems blur and compress like disparate movie trailers.

By contrast, commercial poets seem to adopt the "less is more" philosophy, preferring that a poem be isolated from other poems but not from other art forms (e.g. music, theatre, film, etc.).

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