My response to that, aside from trying to publish works that were excellent, was to get very quiet and basically stop writing poetry myself. I don’t necessarily see this as a bad thing.
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There’s a lot of poetry out there. A lot of it, even the stuff that gets shared and reshared or published in the New Yorker, is not good. I don’t think my own poetry is good half the time. And I haven’t wanted to add to the noise.
It’s been a few years now and I’m starting to write again, but definitely struggling with the “who cares” part. What in god’s name can I say that hasn’t been said, or said better, or said worse but is now a meme.
Anyway, not looking for a fight or for encouragement. Just putting some of this here in case others sometimes feel similarly. Also, editing a lit mag is hard work. Be kind to editors, they’re usually doing it for nothing more than pure love of the form.
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