Arc of the Poet, Part 8: Feedback

Even before I had done any real research or taken my first steps into the legitimate literary world, the intellect, attitudes and ideas I gained through my parents and early life experiences gave me an expansive sense of entitlement. A specific delusion I suffered from was believing that the first time my work was read by any sound judge of a literary competition, my name would be affixed to the prize and I’d be on my way to fame. By the midway point of 1993, however, my steady outreach to editors covering poetry and short fiction had only resulted in a growing collection of rejection slips. Most of them were just generic slips of paper, photocopied and stuck into the required SASE (self-addressed stamped envelope) without a second’s thought… but others were from manuscript competitions where I had little choice but to accept that my work had actually been read and deemed unworthy.

As mentioned in last week’s entry for this series, I was thankful for having ventured into the area of nonfiction trade journals covering the film and television industry, and to have started hitting those marks. It was extremely satisfying seeing my byline in magazines that often had considerably larger circulations than any of the literary publications I was sending work to… and getting paid for those articles worked wonders for my professional reputation, confidence and self-esteem.

Several of the trade stories I authored also featured my original photographs. They weren’t anything great, but through those experiences I learned the importance of having good images to accompany any project I wanted to see into print. My education at UCF and in the Air Force gave me some serious instruction in photography, and on my own, I kept trying to improve those skills, along with my writing. I was especially proud of a series of snaps captured in Chicago back in 1990, and as I diligently continued researching literary journals and reaching out with new poetry and creative writings, I also made some attempts at placing my photos within those types of publications.

In June of ’93, I was again invited back to UCF, this time at the invitation of beloved gentleman faculty member Keith Fowles, who asked me to speak to senior students in his Radio/TV and Society class. Having gained a more solid foothold in my career aspirations since my visit earlier that year, optimism took center stage: I assured everyone that there was certainly room for them in the industry, while encouraging them to set their goals, but then to be sure to revisit them often, considering the likelihood of change over time. Keith was very complimentary and appreciative, saying he felt it was a message his students needed to hear. That was a proud day.

Soon thereafter, with big help from my dad and step-mom, Beth and I bought our first home. Located in the charming downtown area of Orlando near Kaley Street, it was over 40 years old and offered less than 800 square feet of living space, but to us and our cat Maggie, it was a castle. Also, it featured a nice big lot, and four of the world’s most beautiful and immense Live Oak trees.

With momentum favoring us, and my career affording some gratifying accolades, it’s hard to describe exactly how I felt when I received the following correspondence in response to a poetry submission. When it came to magazine editors and established literary figures, I had received no feedback on my creative writing, and other than having my work accepted and put into print, that’s what I wanted most. The two pages of glib poets’ instructions I received from Naomi Long Madgett hit me like a spiritual beat-down I could not ignore. As you can see below (click each image to see it full-size), my response came from my heart, and it reflects some regrettable immaturity. What I admire about it is the rising self-assurance and composure I was beginning to find in aiming for the high road.