How do! This is my last article as poetry editor for Northern Gravy. As much as I have loved the role and working with the great Jinny Syer and Nick Jones, it’s time to move on, refresh myself by walking towards new horizons and maybe to also put my feet up for a little while. I’ve been in the arts and especially the literature business for forty-odd years, and I’m a bit knackered to be honest. I have to carry on in some form, though, as it’s my living. It’s entirely my fault. I’ve never wanted to do anything else. God help me!
Making a living in literature, especially poetry, is not for the faint of heart. It’s fiercely competitive, with little money to be made at the best of times, and outrageously divisive when it comes to the art form’s gatekeepers. I have a million tales to share about writers, performers, publishers, poetry competition judges, and academics that will make your hair stand on end. I’ll keep them for a book, perhaps. Ralph Dartford’s The Kiss and Tell of Poetry. I’ll probably take those stories to my grave. I don’t want to be assassinated.
For those of us who are foolish enough to take it on as a full-time pursuit, our skins have become thick and even shell-like by necessity. How is a full-time poetic life achieved? Why do we do it? How much do we earn? It is a mug’s game to be brutally honest, but I’ll give you my brief penny’s worth for the sake of it. These are only my opinions, though, and I don’t want to start any fights.
Anyone can call themselves a poet, and many do who perhaps have not earned the right. I read and write poetry every single day for four hours and have been doing that as a serious concern for over twenty years. It’s embedded in me like locking the front door when leaving the house or tying my shoelaces. It’s a routine, a discipline. It’s not a question of finding the time to do it; it’s always the time to do it. Reading is the most important thing. When I ask those people who claim to be poets what they are reading and why, and they respond by saying that they don’t really read poetry, I despair. Frankly, they don’t, and they won’t get very far without changing their habits. It’s tough; people have families to attend to, jobs to undertake. I understand that, but you really must find the time to read. Instead of watching three hours of TV a night, change that to two and take the extra hour to read and write. Also, go to readings, listen to poets and then, if you are brave enough, get up in front of people and read your own. Always ask for honest feedback when you do this and listen carefully to people you trust. Don’t fall into the sycophant trap by people saying to you that you are brilliant; listen deeper. That is where disaster lies if you don’t. If you are serious about poetry as a living and to be published, the above is one of its core disciplines. If you can’t do that, then forget it. Read and write poetry for fun, comfort and camaraderie. That’s all fine and brilliant, but it ain’t the professional poet’s life.
To financially support my practice, I work full-time for a literary organisation, teaching and collaborating with other authors, and delivering workshops in prisons. This, of course, pays a wage, but more importantly, it keeps me connected to the literature industry and informs my practice. These jobs are hard to find, and I have been tenacious (the writer’s greatest friend) and lucky. I have also been fortunate to receive funding from organisations to write books, which I’m grateful for. However, these things are achievable by adhering to my earlier point about writing and reading every day. One serves the other. I also offer personal mentoring as a means of generating extra income. My goal is to help early-career poets organise their work and prepare it for submission to magazines, as well as complete collections for publishers. I’m a tough task master, direct with my encouragement and criticism. I do get results, though. Almost all my mentees get published somewhere or other. Contact me if you have the stomach for it. However, I only work with poets who I think can cut the mustard.
So why do I do it? This poetry life? I don’t think I can do anything else; it’s a compulsion. I love poetry, its power and beauty, the reading of it especially. I love the debate and drama of it. I even like some of the people involved in it. My other great obsession is cricket, but I was a rubbish bowler and can’t bat for toffee. You can either play or can’t. You can either write or can’t write. I’ve worked the latter until I’m blue in the face.
Time for a break. X
@Dartford
