Vanity of Vanities, All is Vanity--Press
Yesterday I received an e-mail from Mr. Howard Ely reminding me that my “The Oak in Autumn” had been selected for publication in an upcoming volume tentatively titled IMMORTAL VERSES. He also reminded me to return the writer’s proof, which had been mailed to me a few days earlier with any corrections. Oh, and by the way, although I am under absolutely no obligation, I might want to consider pre-ordering the beautifully bound volume in which my work will be enshrined.
That’s right folks. It’s the vanity press. The very same scam I warned my daughters about when they were producing high school poetry. Carolynne excitedly sent off one of her poems, which was of course, accepted and as supportive parents we were bound by law to order a copy of the book, which indeed, contained her (actually pretty good) poem along with hundreds of others which ranged in quality from fingernails-on-the-blackboard painful to nicely wrought little gems. On the whole, the thing tended to be bottom heavy. Nearly twenty years later one would be hard pressed to find a library with that tome in it, although I imagine it resides in the bottom of countless home drawers.
I had a similar brush with the vanity press myself a few years later. I used to share my poetry with the teachers and staff at Briargate Elementary School when I was a custodian there. One day one of my more enthusiastic “fans” excitedly brought me an application to enter a poetry contest for folks in education. She swore it was legit and I should enter. I did. The poem was accepted for publication and I was graciously invited to buy the book. I didn’t win the competition either. That was awarded to some uplifting ode to the high minded purpose of teaching that would have been embarrassing in a Hallmark card.
So how was it that I, a poet who, unlike most of the denizens of these books, has had a book released by a publisher who was not bribed to do so, was once again in the clutches of the vanity press?
While at work in January, I ran across the announcement of a poetry contest sponsored by Poetry.com in which there were several cash prizes. I was frankly in need of money. A quick perusal of the samples of previous winners on the web site led me to conclude that I might swim productively in these waters.
I had just dashed of a short, in-offensive little poem “The Oak In Autumn,” for use in a “cheer-up” letter from my employer. It did not stretch the boundaries of poetry in theme, form, or content, but it was competently assembled. It would not fit into the current manuscript I am assembling of “political” and potentially “edgy” work. But it just innocuous enough for this kind of thing. So I sent it in on the off chance that I could pick up a little prize money.
If you are interested you can find the poem and a brief explanation of its origins in this blog’s archives for Jan. 18th. It is not, however, necessary for understanding this aimlessly rambling account.
Still, I was somewhat taken aback by the e-mail from Mr. Ely, particularly the by the proposed title for the volume, IMMORTAL VERSES. Vanity is one thing. Loosing complete touch with reality is something else. Here is the e-mail reply I sent:
Dear Mr. Ely--
Thank you for including my poem "The Oak in Autumn" in your upcoming volume. I have, as requested, made one minor typographical correction and returned my proof to your office.
I do hope, however, that the book is not ultimately titled IMMORTAL VERSES. However much I may admire my own words, and I admire them mightily, I do not for a moment believe they are immortal. Neither are the poems by any one else contributing to the volume. All of our words share the mortal life expectancy of a gnat.
Shakespeare--immortal. Whitman--immortal. Sandburg--immortal. Murfin--I don't think so.
Not a member of live journal? Send a comment by e-mail to: pmurfin@sbcglobal.net
That’s right folks. It’s the vanity press. The very same scam I warned my daughters about when they were producing high school poetry. Carolynne excitedly sent off one of her poems, which was of course, accepted and as supportive parents we were bound by law to order a copy of the book, which indeed, contained her (actually pretty good) poem along with hundreds of others which ranged in quality from fingernails-on-the-blackboard painful to nicely wrought little gems. On the whole, the thing tended to be bottom heavy. Nearly twenty years later one would be hard pressed to find a library with that tome in it, although I imagine it resides in the bottom of countless home drawers.
I had a similar brush with the vanity press myself a few years later. I used to share my poetry with the teachers and staff at Briargate Elementary School when I was a custodian there. One day one of my more enthusiastic “fans” excitedly brought me an application to enter a poetry contest for folks in education. She swore it was legit and I should enter. I did. The poem was accepted for publication and I was graciously invited to buy the book. I didn’t win the competition either. That was awarded to some uplifting ode to the high minded purpose of teaching that would have been embarrassing in a Hallmark card.
So how was it that I, a poet who, unlike most of the denizens of these books, has had a book released by a publisher who was not bribed to do so, was once again in the clutches of the vanity press?
While at work in January, I ran across the announcement of a poetry contest sponsored by Poetry.com in which there were several cash prizes. I was frankly in need of money. A quick perusal of the samples of previous winners on the web site led me to conclude that I might swim productively in these waters.
I had just dashed of a short, in-offensive little poem “The Oak In Autumn,” for use in a “cheer-up” letter from my employer. It did not stretch the boundaries of poetry in theme, form, or content, but it was competently assembled. It would not fit into the current manuscript I am assembling of “political” and potentially “edgy” work. But it just innocuous enough for this kind of thing. So I sent it in on the off chance that I could pick up a little prize money.
If you are interested you can find the poem and a brief explanation of its origins in this blog’s archives for Jan. 18th. It is not, however, necessary for understanding this aimlessly rambling account.
Still, I was somewhat taken aback by the e-mail from Mr. Ely, particularly the by the proposed title for the volume, IMMORTAL VERSES. Vanity is one thing. Loosing complete touch with reality is something else. Here is the e-mail reply I sent:
Dear Mr. Ely--
Thank you for including my poem "The Oak in Autumn" in your upcoming volume. I have, as requested, made one minor typographical correction and returned my proof to your office.
I do hope, however, that the book is not ultimately titled IMMORTAL VERSES. However much I may admire my own words, and I admire them mightily, I do not for a moment believe they are immortal. Neither are the poems by any one else contributing to the volume. All of our words share the mortal life expectancy of a gnat.
Shakespeare--immortal. Whitman--immortal. Sandburg--immortal. Murfin--I don't think so.
Not a member of live journal? Send a comment by e-mail to: pmurfin@sbcglobal.net