Tag Archives: acceptance

Bridges, Birds and Big Boys Toys

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Two views featuring the same bridge

Last night I started typing, got as far as the corned beef sandwiches and was woken by Julia at 3.30 am. She had woken in the night and noticed that the bed wasn’t as warm or as noisy as usual, and come to look for me. I was asleep in my magnificent office chair. I knew it was a good ideato buy a good one.

I don’t remember feeling tired, I just fell asleep mid-blog. I will continue now, using the lines I had already written.

In the 24 hours prior to the events I have just described, I had written 33 haiku and 9 tanka. It doesn’t sound much but it felt like my head was being crushed. I’d also dealt with several emails, written 1,000 words on Prime Ministers who were shot and done the normal sort of cooking and washing up.

Heron waiting to have a poem written about it

Many of the poems will be deleted, or heavily edited, but the purpose of the quantity is practice and defeating the inner critic. Once you have the material you can carve it into shape, but if you keep telling yourself it is not good enough you never have anything to work with..

The corned beef hash from Sunday became thick vegetable soup for Monday night, and thin soup for Tuesday lunch. The thick soup was accompanied by bread from the bread maker, and the two soups were accompanied by corned beef sandwiches using the rest of the bread and  carefully stretching  the corned beef by keeping it chilled in the fridge and cutting it thinly.

Between falling asleep and being woken by Julia I found I had had an acceptance from overseas. That’s two from last month’s submissions, and it was a good way to start the day. I use the term loosely as, when you use email and have an international reach, every day is a new one somewhere and where it starts and ends is just a constant process of change.

As an example of editorial opinion, the piece I had accepted last night had been rejected just weeks before by another editor. It was, I thought, the weakest of the three I sent out this time, which just goes to show that you never can tell (to quote Chuck Berry).

Flying Scotsman

Swinging Feeders

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There seems to be a problem loading the photos in this post, which may make the first line slightly puzzling. If I refresh, it comes right and makes sense. 🙂

I swear there was  a Great Tit perching when I pushed the button

First – an acceptance. It’s a good start to the day (it was waiting when I switched on my emails) and it’s a good start to last month’s submissions. The normal caveats apply – past performance is not a guide to future success, one day the illusion of my talent will fall apart, and, mostly, I have submitted to a magazine I have never submitted to before and three editors that have  always rejected my work, so there could be tricky times ahead. However, for now, I have a smile on my face.

See – there was one

Julia got up early and went for a run. She is finding retirement hard as she hasn’t enough to do and she has nearly worn the new floors out with sweeping, hoovering, mopping and polishing. I feel sorry for them. While she was out, I took pictures of several birds, but mainly just the recently vacated feeders. When the Blackcap came it fed from the opposite side of the feeder so I couldn’t get a decent shot and, later, when the Long-tailed tits arrived, I had already taken the camera away.

Breakfast was ready for her when she got back. It was only cereal and toast but it’s always nice to have something ready to put on the table on her return. At our age these things are just as important as chocolates and flowers. In fact, a healthy breakfast is better than chocolates.

That was a blue tit a split second previously . . .

On that subject, I note that our breakfast blueberries came from Morocco. Last week they were from Peru. It’s good to have healthy food and a good variety, but it does make me worry about my carbon footprint and whether my breakfast is contributing to the end of mankind. It could, I suppose, be worse. At least no pigs are harmed in this sort of breakfast.

I’m currently in the middle of writing submissions which need to be done by the 15th, but with twelve days to go, the sense of urgency has not yet cut in, and I am finding it hard going.

And that used to have a blackcap on it

It’s a bit like homeopathy, my photography, pared down and diluted so that only the suggestion of a possibility of a bird remains.  Or “inept” might be the word I’m looking for.

 

Good News Stories

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I wrote a couple of posts for yesterday, but decided not to use either of them.  After that I pottered about on the internet and forgot to post anything at all. Today I haven’t done much either. It’s 1.30am and I am only just sitting down to do some blogging work.

Last night I had a poem accepted for Cattails. I didn’t get round to submitting anything for the last issue so even though I was struggling last month I made an effort to submit some haibun and some tanka prose. I have had a haibun accepted. It needs a different title, which I’m struggling with, but apart from that it’s all good. This means I’ve had two acceptances from three submissions, which is good.

10p – B is for Bond

On that subject, I’ve just had one published in drifting sands haibun. I’m on page 42, with The Thoughtful Pig. 

I’ve been wandering around the internet searching fro inspiration and notice that Nigeria entered the track cycling for the first time at the Olympics. It was a last minute thing, as places suddenly became available, and they had no suitable track cycles. The Germans lent them one for the race, which was kind of them, and a throwback to the South Africans and Eric the Eel. It’s good to see, amongst all the politics, technology and money, there is still time for a heart-warming story.

The backdrop of Paris has made this a memorable Olympics, though the lack of VAR in the clay shooting, the gender confusion in women’s boxing and the pollution in the Seine have all detracted from the event.

10p – P is for postbox

As for the results and our place in the medal table, it’s been a bit disappointing as we have constantly come out on the wrong side of narrow margins and haven’t quite performed as the pre-games hype suggested. We did, however, have a 51-year-old skateboarder. At the time I thought he sounded a bit American. It turns out that he lives in America, was born in America, but has an English dad. However, nationality and athletes is a complicated subject and I don’t have the time or the enthusiasm to go into it now. It was good to see someone doing it for the enjoyment and he was quite clearly enjoying himself.

10p – F is for Fish and Chips

More Good News and Some Trivia

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This is the Sunday post I prepared then forgot to load.

The news so far is that I had a tanka accepted on Saturday and a Haibun accepted tonight (by an editors who has been known to reject me, repeatedly, in the past). That is four acceptances from eleven submissions and I am feeling happy. Editors in Japanese style poetry are far more industrious than regular poetry editors, though I suspect that they aren’t hit by the same avalanche of hopeful poets. I’m still feeling slightly comatose after the efforts of getting all eleven submissions out, so sorry I haven’t been reading other blogs.

Talking of editors, one replied within the day and the other three averaged about four days. This is good, even by the standards of the genre. I expect they will all be in within two weeks, leaving just the two traditional magazines to reply. One will take a couple of months if they run to form and the other tells me that if I don’t hear from them after 12 weeks I can assume I have been rejected.

You can see why I am more enthusiastic about writing Japanese style poetry, can’t you?

Meanwhile, in pursuit of other things I have been adding to my store of general knowledge. The body of Napoleon II, son of Napoleon I and cousin of Napoleon III was originally buried in Austria, where he had lived in exile with his mother since the defeat of his father. He reigned twice, once for two days after his father’s initial defeat and once for 15 days after Waterloo. To be fair, his father’s wish for him to succeed was never going to be granted by the allies, and at the age of three he wan’t in much of a position to dispute the decision to depose the House of Bonaparte. He died young, in 1832 and remained in peace until 1940 when Adolf Hitler stepped in and ordered that the remains should be sent to Paris to be interred in the tomb of his father. His heart and viscera remain in Vienna, which is a tradition of the Hapsburgs.

At least the treatment of his body parts has been more dignified than that of some of his father’s parts.

A Seasonal Jay and a Lost Coin

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We saw a Jay on the way to work yesterday. It swooped from trees by the side of the road, flew in front of us and dropped into a park on the other side of the road. They are both colourful and unobtrusive, being quite a shy bird. This is the time of year to see them as they collect acorns and stash them away for future use. It’s not the first time we have seen a Jay at that part of the journey as they live in the park, but they rarely show themselves..

This morning I had an acceptance for the revised haibun, which was good. I’m always slightly wary of edits, as I may have said in  previous posts, but this one seemed to work out alright. I try to do what editors ask, as a second pair of eyes can often see what I don’t, and they are helping me for free. There are several possible pitfalls, but we seem to have avoided them.

The owner has been away for the last two days. It’s always relaxing, but it is also frustrating because we end up having to stop what we are doing to deal with customers. At that point you appreciate what he does in the course of the week. I am trying to get things loaded up on eBay but people keep ringing and visiting and generally stopping us working. I’m used to the phone calls because they are a normal part of my day, but I normally rely on him dealing with customers.  It just goes to show what a finely balanced machine the shop really is.

It hasn’t helped that we’ve found it hard to locate a number of the things we have sold. Once you lose one coin in a coin shop it can be quite a performance finding it again and it can take several hours out of the day. It always annoys me when that happens because time is money, as they say, and if you spend an hour looking for a £6 coin there is no way you are going to make a profit. It’s one of those cases where spending five minutes on filing and labelling would pay for itself. Fortunately we are all as bad as each other when it comes to losing things so it doesn’t seem so bad.

British West Africa 1/10th of a Penny

The Devil drives ’til the hearse arrives . . .

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First post of Sunday. I’m planning several more today – let’s see if the result lives up to the planning. (I’ll give you a clue – it’s not working well at the moment).

So, poetry news. I had an email from Butcher’s Dog this morning  They have decided not to select my work for publication this time (as they put it), and have sent a very pleasant and upbeat email to tell me that. As you know, I have become slightly blase about rejection over the years, but even if you have become immune to it, it’s still nice to be rejected in a cheery manner, rather than the way some people do it.

It also makes commercial sense, as everyone needs to sell magazines, and one of your best markets is the people who want to write for you. I have twice stopped subscriptions to magazines on the basis of the quality of their rejections. There are always plenty of poetry magazines out there who need the money.There are no such worries for Butcher’s Dog,  they are doing a good job and I will be there in the queue next time they have a submission window open.

The other one wasn’t actually a rejection. It was worse than that, it tells me that they like the prose but they think I should rewrite or drop the first haiku and that the title needs work. Some magazines accept or reject without alteration, some ask for, or suggest, small changes. Others always seem to ask for more work. In this case, they ask for the work to be done and the only commitment they make is to look at it again. Most editors either accept and suggest edits or tell you that they would be happy to accept if you make the changes.

I’ve actually been thinking about this for a day or two. In these circumstances it’s sometimes easier just to thank the editor and withdraw the poem. With this one I’m going to give it a go. The opening haiku will be cut. I can’t guarantee writing a better one in the next few weeks so I may as well take the easy way out. The title had been developed after extensive thinking. It wasn’t great, but it was better than the original, and it had several features which were obviously too subtle. The new one is much more in your face and I’ve added a couple of lines to the prose to connect it to the title.

And now it’s time to throw it back and see what happens. If it is accepted it’s just a number, if it’s rejected, it’s no big deal. Regardless of the decision, next time it goes out, it will have the first haiku restored.

Now I just need to decide on whether I add a footnote about the title or not. I hate them, but sometimes you just need to drive the point home.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Monday Monsoon

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Another acceptance today, so the power of positive thinking marches on . . .

It’s just one from a batch of ten but they all count, and nine of the ten are now available to use again. It makes life easier when you can do that. I’m hopeful that another two or three will find approval elsewhere.

The potato wedges are sizzling in the oven and it will soon be time to add the veggie burgers and prepare the buns. (Note: I may have deviated from the low carb regime of previous posts). We will be having watercress, and beefsteak tomatoes provided by a neighbour.

After that the quizzes will start and I will be away from the keyboard for a while.

Later . . .

Another design, but still no trousers.

very with the general knowledge sections of Mastermind. This has been a feature of this series. Even from my own relaxing armchair I cannot always outscore the contestants. I can still beat one or two, but I feel my edge is going.

Then on to Only Connect, where Victoria Coren-Mitchell wore a ridiculous mask through the programme. She sometimes does this sort of thing. It’s distracting and annoying.

Then on to University Challenge, where it turns out I know more about apples than one of the teams. We got a few right tonight, though I admit I can still go for several minutes without even understanding the questions.

Last night we had torrential rain and sheet lightning lit up the sky. I like it. Julia doesn’t.  It was majestic We had more rain today and will have more during the week. After that it will start to get colder too. It’s beginning to look a lot like winter.

A Crown, no trousers nd plenty of enamel.

The Spirit of T S Eliot

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It is, for a poet, a truth universally acknowledged, that every acceptance is accompanied by a shower of rejection. True to the spirit of T S Eliot, as quoted in a  previous post, I stole that from Jane Austen. She doesn’t need it.

The system with poems in general, and the Japanese forms in particular, is that you send a handful of poems. You may, if you are lucky, get one accepted, sometimes even two or three. Also, if you are lucky, you may be told that some of the others are good too, or (rarely) you may be asked if the editor can keep one for the next issue. Otherwise, you end up with a clutch of rejected poems and no idea why they were rejected. The may be bad, they may be good, but not as good as the one that was selected. Or they may fail for a number of other reasons.

Whatever happens, as happened a few days ago, when one is selected from eight it is an acceptance and a success. The seven rejections count for nothing. Anyway, under my new system they aren’t “rejected” they are merely “not required”.

I’ve just been through the seven returned poems and three of them are already part of a new submission. One of the remaining four, one is not very good when I look again, one of them is a poor match for the new target and two of them are possibly too English (which we have discussed recently).

The next submission will be 10-15 poems and the window closes at the end of the month. I have tried this magazine three times and never had an acceptance. Or, in other words, all 15 are likely to come back. This is good for me – good discipline to try harder targets and to write more, and good for my resilience, as you need to keep being rejected in order to practise your mental toughness and resolve.

As a bonus, most magazines specify ten haiku so, when these come back, I will already have a whole new submission ready to go. There is always a silver lining.

Wilford Suspension Bridge

I searched “pen” to find pictures. I found a couple, but had several results which included the letters “pen” in the middle of words – impressive bit not helpful.

(This was written a few days ago nd left, as events overtook me. I thik I have corrected it to show teh correct chronology, but if I have nissed anything – sorry).

Smells and Drugs and Water Voles

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So many small pieces of news that it’s difficult to know where to start. My drug delivery arrived last night as planned. After 18 months it seems that I may have got through to them that I’m not at home during the day and that as they need refrigeration I need an evening delivery. Seems simple but it’s been hard work getting the idea across. They offer evening delivery slots so I don’t know what the problem is. It’s a small victory, but one that feels worth celebrating.

There was no smell of sewerage in the shop this morning. I’m cautiously optimistic that yesterday’s gurgling was a sign that things have been fixed. However, based on previous experience, it could be too soon to say it’s solved.

Following on from the last good news on acceptance I have had two more, one yesterday and one today. The momentum is building again. The tanka that was accepted today was one that was not selected last week. You just can’t tell what an editor is going to like.

I watched a news report on the reintroduction of water voles last night. They released several hundred in the lake District. The main thing with helping the water vole population increase is that you have to control the population of American Mink. I’ll let you read up on the subject. I’ve already made my mind up. American Mink don’t appear in Wind in the Willows, and thus, in my opinion, have no place in our waterways. The link has, in case you didn’t read it, the fascinating fact that mink droppings smell pungent and fishy whereas otter droppings smell of jasmine tea. It’s difficult, reading that, to imagine what some of these researchers get up to when left to work unsupervised.

Yellow Flag Irises

On Grammar and Worry

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As usual, I am running very close to some end of month deadlines. I had four sets of submissions to send and have only managed to finalise one set. That went off a couple of days ago and I have jut been informed that one has been accepted. It is only a senryu, so it’s almost embarrassing, as it’s still hard to see three lines as a poem.

Try as I might, they still seem like fragments rather than poems. I know it takes more work to get it right in three lines, but it doesn’t look like much of a result for month’s effort. To make it even harder, the subject was Ekphrastic poems. I only discovered the term three or fours years ago, so will explain it – it’s a poem about a work of art. If you already knew that, I apologise for being condescending. If you didn’t, these examples are interesting, as you will know some of them, even if you weren’t aware of the term.

At times like this, I think of all the poets who include English degrees in their writer biographies. They spent years learning all this stuff and then they find themselves in a journal rubbing shoulders with people like me who just pile words up  without a clue what I’m doing. There’s an editor who sometimes writes back to me with suggestions based on points of grammar. I would hate him to know this, but there are times I have to go to the internet to find out what he is talking about.

Last time this happened I was amazed by the number of people discussing a point which I had never needed to know about in over 60 years. And having learnt about it, I forgot it again.

I wonder if there’s room in the world of poetry for an Ekphrastic poem on the subject of Fowler? My only worry is that if I start to think about my language too much I may become too fearful to write. I already worry about it being good enough, but what if I add the additional worry about being correct?