I was waiting in an extremely long airport line when I noticed the people in front of me were wearing matching sneakers and they had their last name monogrammed on the heel, with Mr and Mrs.
I wondered if they were on their honeymoon
but instead of asking them, I challenged myself to a Google search. I wanted to see how much I could find out about these strangers based on their last names and their luggage tag.
And let me tell you, I went deep.
I wrote about the experience, and in my mind, the piece wanted to be a zine, or a chapbook. Something pamphlet-y that would stand on its own.
I tried to draw it,
I tried collage, I tried hiring an illustrator. Nothing worked. I talked it up at every writing conference that I went to. I entered many, many chapbook contests. I couldn’t get a bite.
After five years of submitting
I thought -
Maybe if I turn it into poetry?
I broke the story down into about twenty poems and sent it on its way. Nine months later, Cactus Press offered to publish my collection, “Honeymoon Sneakers: A Cautionary Tale”.
Persistence in this case
means trying a bunch of different things until you (I) hit on something that works. Maybe you write poetry already, and your piece wants to be a mystery novel. Or maybe you write mystery novels but your current project reads more like a screenplay.
When being persistent, you may want to try experimenting with form and tense - moving from third person to first, or from present to past or from iambic pentameter to - don’t ask me, I’m not that kind of poet.
The point is - if you’ve been submitting the same piece over and over again and nothing is working - maybe the piece needs a change of scenery. Or maybe you need a change of scenery, but if you go to the airport be careful with your sneakers, because a monogram can give away more information than you ever intended.
Amy, an inspiring post both in terms of persistence and in finding forms. I'm working on an essay now where I'm searching for the right form. Hah, maybe it's a poetry chapbook and not an essay!