I thought at first I was getting fewer submissions this time round. I was managing to open the envelopes, read and write back. I was managing quite well.
But then I went away for four days and in that time another twenty or so arrived, and some more electronically.
I am still sitting with a large pile, so I haven’t time for bloggery or comment on the world of Po.
Eventually I may have some thoughts about sentences, especially those poems were the poet decides to run a long sentence over three or four stanzas, or even extend from beginning to end of the poem. It’s a lovely thing when it works. Mainly it doesn’t.
And description. I might have something to say about description and how too much of it can be a killer.
But I might not.
I think I’ve had far more submissions from women than men this time round but I haven’t actually counted yet. I wonder whether my no-holds-barred feedback is more crushing for men than women. Or perhaps I’m gender stereotyping already.
I was going to put in a picture of a closed window but didn’t get around to finding my camera. So here is a picture of me taken through a window (you’ll have to take my word for that) by Gerry Cambridge. It was in a Costa cafe in Glasgow, and the manuscript in front of me is Charlotte Gann’s Noir, of which more very soon.
Lovely to see your face! Xx
There’s something about writing in a cafe – there’s also something of Virginia Woolf about it – probably because it’s black and white like the photos of writers in Blackwell’s I never get round to buying, although I like them and think they might be inspiring – or not.