(Part I of this article was published on March 14, 2011)

by James Cihlar

Revising for Publication: Books

Now that you’ve generated individual poems, have used the tools of a writing buddy and writing group, and have tried some of the simple revision approaches discussed in Part I of “Entering the Sweepstakes: The Optimistic Approach to Revision,” it’s time to think about how your poems might all fit together in a book. Unless you are Adrienne Rich, simply putting together in sequence the poems you’ve written over a period of time is not going to be enough to hold a book together. A poetry book should be greater than the sum of its parts. However, it’s also possible to stray too far in the other direction, the themed poetry book, where every piece adheres to an overarching conceit; these can end up feeling forced and gimmicky.

by Sarah Tieck

The tiny snowflakes falling in golden light remind me of a snow globe. Waves of ice cascade over the roof’s edge, curling like an ocean stingray. Even as I notice the beauty and whimsy, this winter seems endless—especially as I stare at a particularly ironic yard sign that presides over an icy snowbank, screaming Grow!

by James Cihlar

Revising Individual Poems

The first steps in revision are the most basic. You must read a lot, and you must write a lot. Because cutting and reshaping are common revision tools, it helps to have plenty of material to work with. As you write first drafts, turn off your censor and generate poems. Keep it going every day, if you can. Your mind is an engine, your life is an enterprise, and your poems work from, elaborate, and develop your sense of how the world works, and how you work in it. Poems are a record of your attempts to mediate the world. Embrace that to begin with, and don’t give it up. Keep it separate from the revision process.

As writers who live and work in a community, we often give each other feedback. A funny thing about criticism: there’s something strangely hopeful about it. By pointing out what’s wrong, by naming the mistakes of the past, we unavoidably imply a world in balance, lay claim to our inherent rights. Writers do this in their subject matter, and in their process: we move from criticizing what is to imaging what could be. This visionary act requires faith. Writers seem to be more willing than most to take our chances in hopes of the big payoff, the personal achievement, the artistic success. We know the odds are against us, but we plunk down our money for the lottery ticket every time.

by Mary Carroll Moore

That first phone call came on a busy day at work. I was preparing 700 stuffed cherry tomatoes for a catering job that night and here was a publisher on the phone asking if I would consider authoring a book. It would be based on my cooking school, which had just been written up in USA Today. Of course I said yes—who wouldn’t? I didn’t tell the publisher I knew nothing about organizing a book manuscript.