We finally got Issue Four of Chickenpinata online. We’re always a little more behind on things than we’d like, but this time (computer issues aside–don’t get me started on that) I had problems with several of the people that we sent acceptances to.
There were three who did not respond when we sent the congratulations announcement–we always send an e-mail acceptance and ask for the poet to confirm that the poem was still available to be published. This time three people did not respond. And this was really irritating because I’d already created their pages in the program and set up the links. And while it’s not hard work, I’m slow at it, so I was disappointed that I had invested the time, only to have to withdraw their poems from the issue.
More than disappointed, I’m really puzzled. I realize Chickenpinata is a small venue, but a publication is a publication, right? Why go to the effort to submit work to a journal if you don’t care if it gets accepted or not? If these three people had their poems accepted elsewhere, why not just let us know? We’ve had people withdraw submissions from us before, and sure it’s a little irksome, but it’s no big deal. It just doesn’t make any sense to me, not to respond to a journal they sent work to, and that wanted that work.
Whatever, I guess. People are weird.
As for my own writing… I need to get back to it. I don’t have anything really to write about lately, though. I need to think of an organizing theme, or a “gimmick,” now that I have to start on book 2.
Someone, please! Send me an idea! I’m feeling all empty-ish and blah.
I’m thinking of this b/c of another blog post I read about an article in the Boston Globe: how about a series of poems that crack open clichés to their meaty origins? Use or discard at your leisure… 🙂
Suggestions for titles: Up to No Good, Mischief; another category– Geographies (not a snappy title but perhaps a working title to hold a few poems together and get rolling).
Time to get your rocks off.
Regarding Pinata 4, a very nice issue. As for those who wandered off, your inconvenience, but ultimately their loss. In the words of Olivia, “Rudesby, be gone.”