I’ve had the good fortune of being published by a few different presses, and while I am enormously grateful to all of them, I have found some easier to work with than others. Etruscan Press is one of my all-time favorites. The process of taking a collection of poems from manuscript to book with this press was a pure pleasure. I’ve been so impressed by all their editors including their managing editor, Bill Schneider, and their production editor, Pamela Turchin, as well as their interns, especially Amanda Rabaduex, whom I met on Zoom. It’s been so long since I entered the poetry scene, I began to wonder, What is it like for poets like Amanda who are just getting started today? How do they navigate the online literary scene? And what is it like to be an integral part of Etruscan Press?
NA: Why poetry?
AR: This is honestly a question I've asked myself for quite some time. I worked as a Russian linguist and paralegal in the Air Force straight out of high school. When I separated, I planned on going into law, but I kept feeling a pull towards words, so I switched my degree from pre-law to English. I was enamored with etymology first, and then poetry. It felt like a very natural evolution. In etymology one learns how much history is carried in a word. Each word is special in its own way, and poetry, in my opinion, is the best way to showcase words. It is the art form for word lovers. For a while I was simply a reader of poetry. What really pushed me to write poems was the death of my grandmother, with whom I was extremely close. After she passed away, writing poetry became very grounding for me. It became a way to process the human experience. Prose demands order from words, but poetry is comfortable letting words sit in space. Letting them ruminate alone like a question waiting for an answer, which is what I feel life is - a question. In this way, poetry reflects life. I keep thinking of a recent episode of the Untenured Tracks podcast, where poet (and my mentor) Dr. Phil Brady compared prose to poetry:
Our lives do not correspond to this fanciful completion that is represented by sentences, which is, of course, why we love sentences, why we love novels, because it gives us what we can’t have. Poetry, I think, gives us what we do have, which is the sense of fragmentation and incompletion.
Once I witnessed how even the end of a life – or maybe especially the end – leaves a sense of incompletion, poetry is the only thing which helps me with this sort of existential fog I am trying to sift through.
NA: Does working for Etruscan Press change how you read poetry books? Or how you think about writing poetry? What is the most important thing you’ve learned there?
AR: I think my experience with Etruscan Press, in addition to working as a reader and an editor for other publications, has given me the notion that getting poems published is a bit like winning the lottery for a newer poet. There are so many poets writing and submitting great poetry right now that a poem or manuscript has to come in at just the right time and get seen by the right readers and editors to have a chance of being accepted for publication. The poet must hone their craft to the best of their ability, but they also need a little luck once they send their words out into the world. To be honest, it is sometimes intimidating for a person, like me, who is beginning to establish themselves as a poet. As a reader, however, it gives me even more respect for the books that I read.
NA: I’m showing my age with this question, but I’d love to know how you started publishing? How do you navigate the online poetry world? And select journals, esp. online journals, to submit to?
AR: I wrote poetry for a long time before I considered sending anything out. By the time I felt comfortable
submitting work, the website Submittable was up and running. This is a great tool for both journals and writers in one way because it makes sharing work so much more accessible. The problem for newer writers, which I am embarrassed to admit was also my situation, is that many send work to journals without reading or vetting them. Only in the past couple years have I realized how many publications are out there. At first, I was simply excited to see a call for submissions, so I'd send my work nearly anywhere. I changed my approach after I had a bad experience with a little online publication who accepted a piece of mine but never ended up publishing it or responding to my messages. After this, I wanted to learn more about which journals were trustworthy and to be more purposeful about where I send my work. I subscribed to many journals. Now when I am sending work out, it is to places which inspire me in some way. I also ensure they publish poems which are aesthetically similar to mine so that I am not wasting my time or the editors' time. I sometimes wonder if the new system for submissions might affect the trajectory of poetry or create a new movement. In a system where so many more are submitting their work, does a poem have to be edgier or more experimental to garner attention?
NA: I had similar experiences. Ugh. Usually it's just that the poems never came back. I'd wonder how long I was supposed to wait. When I started writing, I was heavily influenced by four writers: Henri Michaux, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Yannis Ritsos, and David Lehman. There have been many others of course, but those were the first to shape and inspire me as a writer and a prose poet. I’m wondering if you could name three or four writers who have been important to you.
AR: I consider a person's spatial gaze as inexorable from how they move and create in this world, so I have a difficult time narrowing it down. When I'm thinking about this question, I think of those who have influenced my perception of words as an art form as well as those who influence the style and themes in my poetry – the latter of these is a rotating door, as I'm still experimenting and honing my style. I don't feel I have a signature writing style, quite yet. If I consider the poets who have been the most foundational for me, the first person who comes to mind is Gertrude Stein. I'm heavily influenced by Modernist writers and artists, as this was the movement I focused on in my grad studies when I was earning my M.A. in English, but Stein was the person who made the concept of language as an art form very apparent and accessible for me. Her writing made me question the reality of language and the weight that signifiers carry. I can return to Tender Buttons and it means something different each time I read it, which makes the words feel both meaningless and magical all at once. I love the paradox because it reflects how I feel about life. Sylvia Plath is another poet who was foundational to me as a writer. When I began seriously writing poems, I was already a wife and a mother, and I don't think I would have felt brave enough to become a writer at this stage in my life without reading and being inspired by Plath's work. I am always looking to her use of metaphor when I write. Another important poet is Jane Hirshfield. I had been reading Ram Dass and the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali around the time I first read Hirshfield. The quiet contemplative quality of her poetry echoed the space I was in at the time, and Hirshfield is the poet who guided me, in a sense, into contemporary poetry. She showed me that words can feel both gentle and powerful, that they can create a stillness and introspection, yet be enormously moving to the reader. I try to embrace that same spirit every time I sit down to write.
NA: How do you navigate the online literary scene? Are you active on social media platforms? If so, which do you think is best for poets?
AR: I started my Twitter account during the pandemic after noticing how many poets and journals post on that platform. It has been a great place to read poems that I would have never come across otherwise, and I also like seeing the call for submissions from journals. I am an introvert, though, so I'm not especially comfortable posting a lot. I actually keep my profiles on other platforms private because of this. I consider Twitter, in particular, as a place to network with other writers, and as a place to find inspiration. I often step away for days at a time, though, as there is such a multitude of voices online that it can become overwhelming. I just learned a new word last week – infoglut – a combination of 'information' and 'gluttony,' which someone came up with to describe the type of overload we can experience now thanks to the internet. I want to avoid infoglut and burning out on information. As with many other facets of life, I'm trying to find balance.
NA: I’ve been lucky to have been published by a lot of different presses over the years, most recently Etruscan Press, which feels like a community. But I don’t really know how it works. What do you do for the press?
AR: It really is a community – I am glad you feel that way, too! Everyone there creates such a welcoming space and I feel very lucky to contribute in any way I can. I've drafted two study guides for forthcoming titles which educators will be able to use in the classroom as part of Etruscan's Outreach Program. I've assisted with quality control of their new website, and I've been contributing to their social media initiative with posts, and I've learned some graphic design skills to help with this. I enjoy how multi-faceted the role has been. What I've enjoyed the most is learning how a book starts as a project of the writer, becomes a project of the press, and then ultimately belongs to the readers. And Etruscan keeps both the writer and the reader in mind as they are producing new works. They are like a bridge between the two. Seeing this process in action has somewhat demystified the publishing process for me, while also instilling a tremendous amount of respect for all of the work that goes into making a book a tangible thing.
NA: What poet (s) are you currently reading?
AR: The first that comes to mind is C.T. Salazar – I just wrote a review on his first full length collection – Headless John the Baptist Hitchhiking. I love how he uses sound and space. Some other poets I've loved reading recently are Dante DiStefano, Arthur Sze, Marianne Boruch, and D.S. Waldman. On any given day I usually have multiple books in my purse or multiple sites pulled up on my computer. I try to read as much as I can. I'm waiting for Ocean Vuong's Time is a Mother to arrive in the mail. Vuong is an absolute master with words – I feel like he will go down as one of the greatest poets of my generation.
NA: I think you described yourself as a baby poet, but I’ve really admired what I’ve seen of your work. Maybe we can end with a poem?
AR: I did! I called myself a toddler in the world of poetry because I feel like I'm still finding my footing. Thank you so much for your kind words about my work, Nin.
Here is a poem which first appeared in Anti-Heroin Chic, which I wrote after reading Peter Wohlleben's The Hidden Life of Trees, which has facts about trees like how they make a noise imperceptible to our hearing when faced with a drought, or how mycelium creates a complex network and survival mechanism, of sorts, for trees. So much happens underground – it is incredible.
trees scream ultrasonic when thirsty
If you are the eight minutes before we know the
sun has exploded
I am the last scent of a daydream
winter, want, water, seeds
world's largest organism – 4 mile fungus
it all begins underground
down there the sun is a rumor
I sit next to carved stone
whisper to my grandmother how it is up here
hotter now, burns blister quickly
miles away out my window
mountains on fire
sometimes bruised purple
is how songs are written
how we let ourselves sing
let ourselves believe
since she died
I've been waiting to be buried
I've been listening for the sound of trees
vibration starts in roots
works its way up
I thought I heard them once
they said they would drink the bones
if they could
Amanda Rabaduex is a poet, writer, educator, and Air Force veteran. She is pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing at Wilkes University. She is a graduate assistant for Etruscan Press, and the current poetry editor of River and South Review. Originally from Ohio, she now lives in the Smokey Mountains.
Nin Andrews is the author of seven chapbooks and seven full-length collections of poetry. Her most recent book, The Last Orgasm, was published by Etruscan Press in 2020. Her picture appears on the top left and bottom right.
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