poem accepted

30 1 2010

Decanto magazine has accepted one of the poems I sent out to advertise A Town Unlike Alice and Lisa Stewart who edits Decanto will try to add a link from the magazine website to mine, and Jeremy Hilton editor of Fire magazine has promised to mention Town Unlike in his next editorial, that issue of Fire will be featuring mental health issues. It will appear later in the spring, with two of my poems in it and Jeremy says he'll publish a third poem as well to raise my profile, very sweet and generous of him writers would be nowhere without the dedication and investment of time and taste of so many editors like Jeremy and Lisa. Cannon's Mouth and Carillon have also promised links but should you think me getting swollen headed, Acumen rejected my work with a form letter which brought me back to earth with a jolt! You can only please some of the people some of the time, there are as many ideas about what makes poetry as there are editors.

So far Sam and I haven't had the chance of getting out to take photos for Town Unlike, either the weather is appalling or he's busy and I can't ask him to venture outside with his expensive camera when it's pouring with rain, nor dare I ask him to grovel in the mud when there's a sharp frost or snow is on the ground, a meat and potato pie will only buy some favours. I'll see what the weather's like as February proceeds, perhaps next Sunday, Saturday is out because of the Six Nations rugby match, Wales are playing England and my husband is Welsh, the Wales England matches bring out the worst of his racism and if Wales win he'd better not crow too loudly, Sam supports England and may not feel like doing the Rees family any favours if he's been as humiliated as his team. The Welsh feel as strongly as anyone of Pakistani origin when their team plays England, folk memories of conquest and oppression are vividly alive and translated into national rivalries in sport, rugby is a working class game in Wales whereas the England team are usually drawn from the better off classes, it makes for lots of partisan spirit.
My husband may not know much Welsh but he recalls every insult to the "Sais", the English, and they are many and vigorously expressed.

I'm tired and I'm not very happy, I've bust a gut revising poems and it's very concentrated hard work and takes it out of one. This morning the ground was covered in snow and the air was icy when I went out to the cashpoint, my sacks of manure are frozen so it'd be difficult spreading the contents on my raspberry beds, warmer weather would have made it easier and getting out into the garden would have been the sort of change that is as good as a rest. Still, if I've given those poems my best shot I might have some more acceptances, I'd rather do good work and knacker myself than fiddle about half heartedly then make excuses to myself, it's the work that counts. On that note I'll conclude, I don't intend to make a living out of self pity, as his teacher apocryphally said, you'll never get anywhere by whining Zimmerman! Am I in the wrong job?