Taking a trope from Gilda Radner’s character, Roseanne Roseannadanna, it’s always something. Either you’re hanging on a cliff hoping for your fingernails to grow in or you’re at the bottom, wishing you’d tied that rope a little better. The lack of broken bones is nothing compared to the feeling of sheer foolishness.
I started my serious return to published poetry in 2013 when I taught a literary publications class. At the time, I felt that encouraging students to submit work while I wasn’t doing the same was just wrong. I still feel that way, and have additionally set new goals each year. That first run of submissions got quick, positive results followed by the long, dark night of the soul called rejections, or as I call it when I’m an editor, declines. (more…)