#100rejections — August & September Totals

STILL RECOVERING from the Summer of Transition, so literary activity has come to a screeching halt out of family necessity. In fact, any activity I’ve had in recent months has been from submissions earlier in the year, but hey, it counts. I am including this blog post as a way of creating a through-line until November, when I anticipate ramping back up. Until then….

Accountability check-in! But first, what is #100rejections anyway?

I have decided to set the literary goal of accumulating 100 rejections this calendar year to facilitate sustained efforts toward publication. Submitting multiple poems to one market and having them all rejected counts as one rejection. Having any number of poems in the packet accepted means that submission counts as one acceptance.

August, 2017 — 3 Rejections, 0 Acceptances, 0 New Submissions
Year to Date, 66 / 10 / 69

  • LitMag, Rejection
  • The Paris Review, Rejection*
  • Memorious, Rejection

September, 2017 — 2 Rejections, 0 Acceptances, 0 New Submissions
Year to Date, 68 / 10 / 69

  • Calgary Poetry Contest, Rejection
  • The Southeast Review, Rejection*

*The journals marked with an asterisk (*) satisfy my secondary literary goal of submitting to as many top-tier journals as possible. See my January Totals post for details.

Tune in next month for October tallies (including one Acceptance!). Details on that and my strategy for making a comeback by the end of the year in the next #100rejections post. Happy submitting!


“The aroused scientist” (2010)

Amphibi.us is now defunct, but before that, they published this (no archive available):

The aroused scientist
First appeared in Amphibi.us: Watterlogged Words (May 2010)

The aroused scientist
walks bow-legged across the crisp split
of her wanton wholeness,
stepping spider-oblique
among her nettle-spring dreams
and the crisis/opportunity of motion.

The green burr-sparks stick
in odd, arrhythmic places,
collect in the overlapping buzz of crickets
until she is 12 again,
coarse and brash,
curved in time and space,
picking at her socks
against the persistent seeds,
or running on sidewalks that rhyme,
wearing tomboy-striped shirts
and eating pepper-weed to see if it’s poison
and she never gets sick, she is alive—
animal all loose in her
and divine.