i printed out my manuscript last night. five sections. around 50 pages. good lord, that number really depresses me. i've spent the last 6 years of my life working on this collection and all i have is 50 pages! granted, i've written about 30 more pages of work, but i don't want those poems in my first collecton. why? those poems now bore me or they don't belong in the manuscript. and i have been ruthless, dead reader. i have exiled poems that have been published in good places like the nation or quarterly west.
okay, eduardo, calm down. inhale. think of cats and rainbows. think of flowers and oranges. inhale deeply...
don't you love freshly printed manuscript pages? i do! the pages are so crisp and white. i love the smell of the ink. the way the font (new times roman) seems to leap from the white of the page. i love the slight heft of the manuscript. oh i love freshly printed manuscipt pages!
okay, now the really bad news:
i could only see the gaps in the order as i flipped through the manuscript. there should be a short lyric here. there should be a funny moment here.
but i'm not going to let those nagging doubts get me this time. we all have those doubts, right? i'm going to work through those doubts. i'm going to remind myself: a collection is made up of valleys and peaks.
dear reader, i promise this to you: i'm going to submit! i will send the manuscript out this fall. i have to let these poems go. i'm sure they will find a home. well, let's hope they find a home!
i will post pics next month: of me slipping maunscripts into large envelopes, of me sending off those large envelopes.
you will be my witness, dear reader.