in which our narrator describes her befuddled attempts at self-promotion
Yesterday I got an e-mail from someone (an intern, probably) at the little press that's publishing some of my poems next year. She explained that the press is putting together a catalogue of their titles, including forthcoming ones, and she'd like my suggestions for "two or three sentences" about the chapbook, as well as a short bio.
Well, hell. If I were any good at this sort of thing I'd be in publishing, wouldn't you think? I'm an academic; "concise" is not a word that comes readily to mind when describing my linguistic strengths. I mean, I understand that this press is the size of a thimble, but surely they've got *someone* there who's better at this than I am. A well-trained ferret could be better at this than I am.
The bio was relatively straightforward: "[here's luck] teaches writing, literature, and women's studies at the University of [x], where she is a Ph.D. candidate. When she's avoiding her dissertation, which is most of the time, she cooks elaborate dinners for her friends, entertains her cats, overanalyzes selected TV shows, and writes nonfiction as well as poetry. Getting Out Alive is her first collection." I'm not sure it entirely conveys what an utter weirdo I am, but I'm not sure *anything* adequately conveys that except, you know, living with me; plus, if we're trying to convince people to buy this thing, it's possibly better for them not to know.
As for describing the book... I fretted myself into a state, re-read a couple of the poems, panicked that they're no good, told the panicking part of myself to shut. the. hell. up, and ended up sending off the following:
"Most of the poems are structured as explorations of single metaphors: water, cave, flower, eclipse, knitting, vegetables. The first half of the collection is about coping with [illness]; they're poems about the body and about how we find metaphors for the body, how we understand the body. They're very inward-looking, very focused on trying to make sense of the self. The second half of the collection moves outwards; it's about trying to understand and connect with other people--specifically with other women--although those poems too are grounded in the fact of physical experiences."
Would I buy a book described like that? I haven't a clue. It's not publishing-ese, but I'm hoping it'll give their well-trained ferrets something to work with.
Of course, I'm actually posting this in the hope that one or more of my well-read LJ friends will want to take a stab at unpaid copywriting for a tiny regional niche-market press. Worked that in there nice and subtle, didn't I? That's 'cause of the poetry-writing, you see. At least I'm over my "deliberately obscure so as to make the shallow seem deep" phase, which is charming, or at least understandable, in teenagers and deeply annoying in anyone else.