Every Fourth of July, Americans revisit familiar symbols: fireworks, flags, parades, and historical speeches. This year, I’d like to suggest revisiting a poem.
One of the most influential poems in American history is “The New Colossus” by Emma Lazarus. Written in 1883 to help raise funds for the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty, the poem was not originally intended to become famous. In fact, it was largely forgotten for years after it was written.
Most people are surprised to learn that the poem was not originally part of the Statue of Liberty. The statue itself was a gift from France celebrating liberty and democracy. It was only in 1903, sixteen years after Lazarus’s death, that a bronze plaque bearing the poem was installed inside the pedestal.
Today, however, many readers recognize its closing lines, which have become inseparable from the monument itself:
“Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free…”
Emma Lazarus
What fascinates me about “The New Colossus” is that it did something very few poems ever accomplish. It changed the way people saw a monument.
The Statue of Liberty was already standing in New York Harbor when Lazarus wrote her poem. Yet over time, her words became so closely associated with the statue that many people now think of the poem and the monument as a single work. A few lines of poetry helped shape how generations of Americans understood one of the country’s most recognizable landmarks.
That’s an extraordinary accomplishment for any writer.
As poets and readers, we sometimes forget how powerful language can be. Most poems will never become part of a national conversation, nor do they need to. Yet “The New Colossus” offers a reminder that poetry can leave a lasting mark on culture in unexpected ways.
I also enjoy the fact that the poem’s influence wasn’t immediate. It wasn’t a viral sensation. It wasn’t an overnight success. It spent years in relative obscurity before eventually finding its place in American history. There is something encouraging about that for writers.
As Independence Day approaches, consider taking a few minutes to read “The New Colossus.” Even if you’ve encountered those famous closing lines before, reading the entire poem offers a new appreciation for what Emma Lazarus accomplished.
More than a century later, people are still discussing her words. That’s not a bad legacy for a poem.
Do you have a favorite poem that feels especially American to you? We’d love to hear about it in the comments.
The New Colossus
BY EMMA LAZARUS
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. “Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
One of poetry’s great strengths is its ability to capture a moment of recognition.
Or, in some cases, a moment of misrecognition.
Toni Artuso’s “To the Woman Waiting on the Train Station Platform” begins with observation. The speaker notices a woman dressed in striking over-the-knee boots, a miniskirt, and a dark jacket. The details are vivid. The woman commands attention. She appears confident, glamorous, and perhaps a little intimidating.
Like the speaker, readers begin constructing a story.
Who is she?
Where is she going?
What kind of person dresses like this on a cold day?
The poem invites us to ask these questions while quietly reminding us that we don’t actually know the answers.
What follows is a wonderful example of how poetry can examine the assumptions we make about strangers. We see someone for a few moments and immediately begin filling in the blanks. Clothing becomes personality. Posture becomes character. Appearance becomes identity.
Then comes the turn.
The woman looks back.
Suddenly, the speaker notices traces of adolescent acne beneath carefully applied makeup. It is a small detail, but it changes everything. The glamorous stranger becomes a human being with a history. The mystery remains, but the distance narrows.
What I admire about the poem is its restraint. It never tells us what to think about the woman. It simply shows us how quickly we create stories about people we do not know and how easily those stories can be disrupted by a single unexpected detail.
In only a few lines, Artuso moves from attraction and curiosity to something deeper: empathy.
The poem also feels particularly well suited to its author. Toni Artuso is an emerging, and as she humorously describes herself, “aging” trans writer from Salem, Massachusetts. Her work has appeared in numerous publications, including The Christian Science Monitor, The Ekphrastic Review, Salamander, and Honeyguide Literary Magazine, which nominated one of her villanelles for both a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net.
Reading this poem, I found myself thinking about how often we mistake appearance for understanding. We notice what is visible and assume we know the rest. Yet every person carries experiences, struggles, triumphs, and insecurities that remain hidden from view.
The woman on the platform remains largely unknown to us. That is precisely why the poem succeeds. Artuso allows her to remain a stranger while reminding us that strangers are always more complicated than the stories we tell ourselves about them.
Long after I finished reading the poem, I found myself returning to that final image. Not because it answers the mystery of who the woman is, but because it reminds us how much of every human being remains unseen.
Have you ever imagined the life of a stranger?
There are so many more wonderful works to read, listen to, and see. Visit Instant Noodles!
PATH 1: Building a Readership Through Poetry Readings
When poets talk about building an audience, the conversation often turns immediately to social media, websites, and marketing strategies. While those tools can certainly help, many poets overlook one of the oldest and most effective ways to find readers: reading their work aloud.
Poetry began as an oral art form. Long before poems appeared in books, journals, and websites, they were shared through voice and performance. Even today, a strong reading can create a connection that no social media post can match.
Many poets hesitate to participate in readings because they assume they need a published collection, a large following, or years of experience before they are ready. In reality, most reading communities welcome poets at a wide range of experience levels. Open mics, community events, library programs, and local literary gatherings can all provide opportunities to share your work.
If you’re wondering where to begin, start by looking close to home. Libraries, independent bookstores, arts organizations, community colleges, literary festivals, and local writing groups often host readings and open mics. Social media can also help uncover opportunities. Follow poets, literary journals, bookstores, and writing organizations in your region and pay attention to the events they promote. You may discover that there are more opportunities to share your work than you realized.
Don’t overlook virtual events. Organizations such as Poetry Super Highway, The Writers Center, Poets & Writers, and many regional poetry groups regularly host online readings and open mics. Event calendars on Poets & Writers and Eventbrite can also help uncover opportunities throughout the year. Many poets have built meaningful friendships, readerships, and professional connections through virtual events they attended from their own living rooms.
The benefits extend far beyond the reading itself. Every event introduces you to people who care about poetry. You meet other writers, potential readers, organizers, editors, and booksellers. Over time, these connections begin to form a literary community around your work.
Readings can also help you become a stronger poet. A poem that works beautifully on the page may reveal weaknesses when read aloud. Awkward phrasing, confusing transitions, and unnecessary words often become more obvious when spoken. The audience’s reaction can also teach you a great deal about how your work is being received.
One common misconception is that poetry readings only matter if they lead directly to book sales. While selling books is certainly welcome, the larger goal is visibility. Readers are far more likely to remember a poet whose work they have heard than a name they happened to scroll past online. Every reading plants seeds that may grow into future opportunities, whether that means invitations to other events, journal recommendations, workshop connections, or eventual book purchases.
For poets who are shy or nervous, it can help to start small. Attend a reading before signing up to participate. Read a single poem at an open mic. Volunteer to share work at a workshop or community event. Confidence grows with practice, and most poetry audiences are remarkably supportive.
If you have a collection available, bring copies. If you maintain a website, newsletter, or social media account, mention it briefly. Have a simple way for interested readers to stay connected. The goal is not to deliver a sales pitch, but to make it easy for people who enjoyed your work to find you again.
Perhaps most importantly, remember that building a readership happens one reader at a time. Very few poets wake up to discover thousands of devoted followers. Most audiences are built through repeated acts of showing up, sharing work, and participating in the literary community.
A successful poetry reading is not measured solely by the number of books sold or the size of the audience. Sometimes success looks like a conversation after the event, an invitation to read elsewhere, or a single person who tells you that your poem stayed with them long after the evening ended.
Poetry is meant to be read, but it is also meant to be heard. If you’re looking for ways to build a readership, consider stepping up to the microphone. You may discover that your next reader is already sitting in the audience.
Poetry is meant to be read, but it is also meant to be heard. If you’re looking for ways to build a readership, consider stepping up to the microphone. You may discover that your next reader is already sitting in the audience.
Just as importantly, be willing to sit in the audience yourself. Attend readings even when you’re not on the program. Support fellow poets. Listen carefully to their work. Literary communities thrive when writers show up for one another, and some of the most meaningful friendships, opportunities, and collaborations begin simply by being present. The poets who consistently support others often find that support returned when it is their turn to step up to the microphone.
Do you know of a virtual event that readers can apply to? Leave it in the comments, and we’ll share it!
When most people hear the term “Poet Laureate,” they think of a nationally recognized poet appointed to represent poetry across an entire country. What many writers don’t realize is that poet laureates exist at many levels, including states, cities, counties, tribal nations, universities, and even local arts organizations.
In fact, your community may already have a Poet Laureate.
The word laureate comes from the laurel wreaths awarded to distinguished individuals in ancient Greece and Rome. Over time, the term became associated with artists and writers who were formally recognized for their contributions. Today, a Poet Laureate is generally a poet selected to serve as an ambassador for poetry within a particular community.
While the United States Poet Laureate receives the most attention, local poet laureates often have a more direct impact on everyday readers and writers. Their responsibilities may include giving public readings, visiting schools, organizing workshops, promoting literacy programs, supporting local literary events, and encouraging people to engage with poetry.
The specifics vary from one community to another. A state Poet Laureate may travel widely throughout the state, while a city Poet Laureate might focus on local schools, libraries, and community events. Some positions are largely ceremonial. Others involve active outreach and public programming.
For poets, these positions are worth paying attention to for several reasons.
First, local poet laureates are often deeply connected to the literary life of their communities. They may organize readings, maintain event calendars, promote local writers, or create opportunities for poets to share their work.
Second, poet laureate programs frequently support projects that benefit writers and readers alike. Community anthologies, public poetry installations, workshops, festivals, and educational programs often emerge from laureate initiatives.
Third, some poets may eventually wish to pursue a laureate position themselves.
Many writers assume these positions are reserved for nationally known poets. While experience and publication history certainly help, local laureate programs often seek poets who are engaged with their communities and interested in promoting poetry. The ideal candidate is not always the most famous poet. Often, it is someone willing to serve as an advocate for literature and the arts.
Selection processes vary widely. Some poet laureates are appointed by elected officials, arts councils, libraries, or cultural commissions. Others are chosen by review committees after an open application process. In many communities, poets may nominate themselves, while in others they must be nominated by another individual or organization.
If the idea interests you, start by researching your local area. Search for your state’s Poet Laureate program, check with your city or county arts commission, visit local library websites, and explore arts organizations in your region. Even if your community does not currently have a poet laureate program, learning how neighboring communities operate theirs can be illuminating.
You may also discover opportunities to serve on committees, volunteer at literary events, participate in public readings, or support initiatives created by current laureates. These experiences can help you become more involved in your local literary community while building relationships with other writers and arts advocates.
Perhaps the most important lesson is that poetry exists far beyond books and literary journals. Poet laureates remind us that poetry can be part of civic life, education, public art, and community engagement. They help bring poetry into places where readers might not otherwise encounter it.
So here’s a challenge: spend a few minutes researching your community. Does your state have a Poet Laureate? Does your city? Your county? A nearby university? You may discover that a poetry ambassador is already working in your area, creating opportunities for writers and readers alike.
And if no such program exists, perhaps that’s a conversation worth starting.
We’d also love to hear what you discover. Does your state, city, county, tribal nation, or university have a Poet Laureate? What kinds of programs, readings, workshops, or literary initiatives are they involved in? Share what you find in the comments. One of the joys of the poetry community is discovering the many different ways poetry is supported across the country, and your local laureate may inspire poets in places far beyond your own backyard.
Virginia Watts
Virginia Watts is the author of poetry and stories found in The MacGuffin, Epiphany,CRAFT, The Florida Review, Reed Magazine, Pithead Chapel, Eclectica Magazine among others. She has been nominated four times for a Pushcart Prize. Her debut short story collection Echoes from the Hocker House was short listed for 2024 Eric Hoffer Grand Prize, selected as one of the Best Indie Books of 2023 by Kirkus Book Reviews, and won third place in the 2024 Feathered Quill Book Awards. Please visit her.
Virginia’s new book is now available from Old Scratch Press:
One of the most common questions poets ask is whether they should self-publish their work or pursue traditional publication. Unfortunately, there is no single answer that fits every writer. The best choice depends on your goals, your audience, and what you hope to achieve with your collection.
Traditional publishing offers several advantages. An established publisher may provide editing, design, distribution, and marketing support. Publication through a respected press can also carry a certain level of prestige and may help introduce your work to readers who would not otherwise discover it. The challenge, of course, is that poetry collections can be difficult to place. Many presses receive far more submissions than they can publish, and acceptance often requires patience, persistence, and a willingness to face rejection.
Self-publishing offers a different path. It gives poets complete creative control over their work, from the selection of poems to the cover design and publication timeline. Rather than waiting months or years for a response from a publisher, authors can move forward when they feel their manuscript is ready. For poets who have already built an audience through readings, workshops, social media, or literary journals, self-publishing can be an effective way to connect directly with readers.
Some poets choose a middle path by working with a partner publisher or cooperative press. In these arrangements, authors may receive professional support with editing, design, production, and distribution while maintaining a greater degree of involvement and creative control than is typical in traditional publishing. Depending on the organization, costs, responsibilities, and royalties may be shared in different ways. For poets who value both collaboration and independence, this approach can offer an appealing alternative.
Regardless of the path you choose, publishing comes with responsibilities. Self-published authors often become project managers, responsible for editing, design, formatting, distribution, and promotion. While modern publishing platforms have made it easier than ever to produce a book, producing a professional-quality collection still requires time, effort, and attention to detail.
Cost and sales expectations should also be part of the decision. Most poetry collections sell modestly, regardless of how they are published. Traditional publishing may reduce or eliminate upfront costs for the author, but royalties are often lower and advances, when offered, tend to be small. Self-publishing allows authors to retain a larger share of each sale, but they are usually responsible for expenses such as editing, cover design, and formatting. Before choosing a path, it is worth considering not only how you want to publish your collection, but also who you expect to buy it and how you plan to reach those readers.
Another factor worth considering is where you are in your writing life. Many poets who choose self-publishing or cooperative publishing are not necessarily doing so because they failed to secure a traditional contract. Often, they are at a stage where they no longer wish to spend years waiting for permission to share work that feels ready. They want to hold the book in their hands, place it in front of readers, and move on to the next project.
At the same time, younger poets sometimes underestimate the opportunities self-publishing can create. A professionally produced collection can help establish a readership, create speaking opportunities, and serve as a foundation for future publishing projects. Publishing independently does not close doors. In some cases, it opens them.
Some poets hesitate to publish independently because they worry it will make them seem less legitimate than poets associated with universities, MFA programs, or established literary presses. Those concerns are understandable. The literary world can sometimes feel hierarchical, and it is easy to conclude that certain credentials matter more than the work itself.
In reality, good poetry emerges from many places. Many wonderful poets come out of MFA programs, universities, and literary journals. Poetry has always been larger than academia.
What is also true is that many poets outside those circles sometimes feel excluded, intimidated, or invisible. It can be easy to assume that publication by a university press or admission to a prestigious program automatically makes someone a better poet.
Yet poetry’s history tells a more complicated story. Whitman wasn’t an MFA. Dickinson wasn’t an MFA. Frost wasn’t an MFA. Bukowski wasn’t an MFA. Mary Oliver wasn’t an MFA.
The truth is that poetry has many rooms. The university is one of them. It isn’t the whole house.
There is also a reality that many poets, regardless of publishing path, eventually discover: marketing is largely the poet’s responsibility. Traditional publishers can help, and some presses do far more than others, but few poetry collections succeed because a publisher does all the promotional work. Readers connect with poets who are willing to participate in readings, interviews, social media, literary events, newsletters, podcasts, and conversations about their work. Whether your collection is traditionally published, self-published, or released through a cooperative press, your willingness to help readers discover it will have a significant impact on its success.
Perhaps the most important question is this: Why do you write poetry?
If your primary goal is to secure a publishing contract, your path may look very different from someone whose goal is to share meaningful work with readers. Most poets do not begin writing because they dream of contracts, advances, or industry recognition. They write because they love language, because they have something to say, or because poetry helps them make sense of the world.
A publishing contract can be gratifying, but it is not a measure of artistic worth. Many talented poets never receive one. Publication decisions are influenced by timing, editorial preferences, market considerations, and simple luck, not talent alone. Failing to secure a traditional publishing deal does not make someone a failed poet. Likewise, receiving a publishing contract does not automatically make someone a great one. The quality of the work and the commitment behind it matter far more than the path it takes into the world.
For many poets, the goal is not to generate significant income, but to be read. We spend countless hours shaping language in the hope that a poem will connect with another human being. Whether that connection happens with ten readers or ten thousand, there is something remarkable about knowing your words have found a home in someone else’s mind.
A well-crafted collection that finds its readers is a success, regardless of the path it takes to get there. Poetry isn’t really complete until somebody reads it.
What has your experience been? Have you self-published poetry, pursued traditional publication, or explored both routes? We’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
Jonah is my first volume of poetry, so it was especially gratifying to look at the list of Category Finalists posted to the Hoffer Award website and see it there in all its glory. Just as parents can instantly spot their own kids in a crowded park full of other children not objectively dissimilar to their own in any real way, my eyes were instantly drawn to that familiar sequence of words: Jonah’s Map of the Whale. Next, of course, I checked my name—you know, just in case there was another Jonah’s Map of the Whale by some not-Anthony—, and then, certified that it was indeed my Jonah, I smiled at the sight of three little words that have come to mean a lot to me: Old Scratch Press.
I am in the process of completing my second volume of poetry, so “Jonah” seems at times like a distant country I once used to live in and hope to return to someday. So I went back to a review poet and critic Billie Mills so kindly wrote about it when it came out last year, just to see it through someone else’s eyes before writing anything about it. The book consists of three sections, each devoted to a different “persona”, which Mills described as “nearer to archetypes than individuals, carrying something of a mythical nature […] narratives, fables, romances, but never anecdotes.” It’s a good description, but that does not mean the book is non- (or im-)personal, because that narrative, mythical, fable-like quality is perhaps the most any of us can aspire to in our best (and worst) moments.
I have a thing about threes, perhaps because three was the last number I can say I ever managed to understand. I get three. I can feel three. Anything from four to the Googolplexian, and I’ll just have to take your word for it. But threes work; threes make sense. So this book, naturally, has three sections.
The first of these is a group of poems about a fictional character named Flounder, sometimes presented as a young man with mental health and addiction issues, other times as a flatfish on the floor of the Irish Sea. So when he’s not a floundering human, he’s a very human flounder, and what tips him one way or the other is how deep he sinks into his overactive, intrusive unconscious self.
The second character, Blundra, is everything Flounder is not. The world likes Blundra, and Blundra knows how to make it give her what she wants. The problem is, what she really, really wants is something this world cannot give. Constantly on the verge of an epiphany that never quite comes, she experiences a frustration that is also a sort of longing. This revelation-in-the-making whispers to her from afar in the form of her dead grandmother’s voice.
The third section of the book, the title poem, is a turn-of-the-21st-century rereading of the Jonah story, and it shares an origin with my speculative novel Hibernaculum (2024 Next Generation Indie Book Awards Science Fiction Category Finalist).
Jonah and Hibernaculum are kindred works, as they were both initially parts of a literary triptych called Three Jonahs. The third panel was the as-yet-unpublished Jestor.
I scrapped the triptych idea when Hibernaculum and Jestor turned into full-length, standalone novels, and “Jonah’s Map of the Whale” found a new home alongside “Blundra” and “Flounder”.
Although the triptych was disbanded in practice, it remains very much together in spirit. There is a Jonah and a whale in each of these works. Jonahs fleeing their own private Ninevehs, whales catching them halfway between one Joppa and another Tarshish. The whale can be a person or entity (Jestor), a process (human hibernation), or it can even be oneself and one’s past, as in “Jonah’s Map of the Whale”.
Personally and collectively, we’re constantly fleeing and being dragged back. It’s part of the cycle of existence. The Jonah tale is pure dialectic (thesis, antithesis, synthesis…repeat), and so is history, so is an individual life.
So what sort of cartography is this “map”? In the book, it’s a two-track reverse chronology: the misadventures of Alex Iden Grey, on one hand, and the turn of the 21st century, on the other. Wrong turns, missed opportunities, and ignored warnings, all seen in retrospect and laid out as cautionary tales. And what is a cautionary tale if not a map in negative, a map that says “the guy who went this way got swallowed by a whale.”
A simple map, really… in hindsight.
That’s what the book is about. It took a long time to write (dewrite, rewrite, repeat…) and now it is what it is, no take-backs, no changes.
Born in Dublin and raised in Wicklow Town, Anthony Doyle holds a joint honours degree in English and Philosophy and a master’s degree in Philosophy from University College Dublin, Ireland.
He moved to São Paulo, Brazil, in 1999, where he works as a translator from Portuguese to English.
He writes poetry and fiction for adults, teens and children.
If you’ve never encountered miniMAG before, it’s a literary space built around immediacy, intensity, and voice.
Known for publishing short, powerful work, miniMAG has created a home for writing that lands quickly and lingers. It’s a platform that embraces experimentation, emerging voices, and pieces that don’t always fit neatly into traditional categories. The emphasis has often been on brevity, but more importantly, on impact.
Which is exactly why it’s such an exciting space for Old Scratch Press to step into.
For this upcoming issue, we’re not curating the work. We are the work.
Old Scratch Press is taking over the issue as contributing writers and artists, bringing a collection that reflects the range of what we do. That includes longer pieces alongside shorter ones, visual work alongside written, and voices that move between forms rather than staying confined to one.
This isn’t about fitting into a format. It’s about expanding it.
You’ll find work that holds tension, work that experiments, work that stretches. You’ll find pieces that are immediate and pieces that take their time. And yes, you’ll find writing that pushes beyond the expectation of what “mini” might suggest, and art as well. Many of us make with words and with other mediums too.
At Old Scratch Press, we care deeply about voice, about risk, and about creating space for work that feels alive on the page. This issue of miniMAG gives us the opportunity to bring that energy into a platform already known for bold, concentrated storytelling, and to widen the lens just a bit while we’re there.
Gabby and Morgan are part of the featured selections from the Community of Literary Magazines and Presses for Women’s History Month!
Check it out here:
And pick up a copy of these great books!
NO OCEAN SPIT ME OUT is a captivating debut collection of poetry by Gabby Gilliam that delves deep into the intricate tapestry of family dynamics and personal evolution. Within its 30 poems, the collection embarks on a profound journey through the stages of coming of age, navigating the complexities of familial bonds, grappling with organized religion, and ultimately, embracing the essence of self-acceptance.
Each poem in NO OCEAN SPIT ME OUT serves as a poignant reflection of the human experience, capturing moments of vulnerability, resilience, and growth with eloquence. Through lyrical prose and emotive imagery, Gilliam paints a vivid portrait of the joys and struggles inherent in the process of self-discovery.
Whether you’re seeking solace in the shared experiences of family relationships or searching for introspective insights into the nuances of identity and faith, Gilliam’s collection offers a profound and thought-provoking exploration of the human condition.
From the mighty pen of artist and author Morgan Golladay comes The Song of North Mountain, a transformative collection of poetry and art celebrating the famous and mystical North Mountain of Appalachia.
North Mountain, a wildland in the George Washington and Jefferson National Forests of western Virginia, has been recognized by the Wilderness Society as a special place worthy of protection from logging and road construction. The Wilderness Society has designated the area as a “Mountain Treasure.”
Morgan Golladay brings her readers to dwell in the reverence of this wonderful wilderness.
Golladay is an award-winning author who was raised on North Mountain and lives in coastal Delaware as part of a thriving artist and author community. All words and art in this book are by Golladay.
The Song of North Mountain is National Book Award nominee!
This week I listened to a webinar from a bit back on what you can and cannot use from others’ work in your work… spoiler alert, nope. nope, nope, you cannot use those Taylor Swift lyrics, no matter how perfect they are for your piece. Why? Because Taylor wrote them, for her piece. Cry me a small stream (see what I did there?) but you gotta write your own!
One form the webinar really did not recommend was Cento. And from the looks of my very unscientific Google search, there are a lot of them:
Well, why not?
As in the Taylor Swift example, those poets wrote those lines in their poems, to express their thoughts, and that doesn’t mean you can co-opt them, even though it is a fun writing exercise to try to knit them together. They also recommend against publishing Golden Shovels.
The webinar, for CLMP members, was helmed by Jeffrey Levine (a lawyer and Publisher of Tupelo Press) and Fred Courtright (President of The Permissions Company). And I was shocked to find out how many instances there are where authors should be getting permission, but maybe aren’t.
Copyright is, very basically, attached to intellectual property, so something we cannot touch with our fingers, even if those ideas are pressed into an LP, or printed in a book, or applied to watercolor paper. It’s the imaginings, the wordplay, the artistic or editorial or even advertising verbiage, or the design, creation, work of another artist. And we can’t use what isn’t ours without permission from its creator, or, and maybe more likely, its rights holder. Frankly, and this is where some writers disagree with me, this makes perfect sense to me if I think about someone taking my work, and using it in their own piece, and it also makes sense to me as an artist. I want so badly to use the lyrics to songs that I imbue with this meaning and emotion that only they can have, and it’s tougher to come up with my own “pretend” song, but I really need to push my writing to the next level, and do it. You don’t have to register your work with US Copyright to be protected, but we do copyright all books we publish as a matter of course.
What does copyright leave out? It does not apply to material that is not truly original, to anything already in the public domain, or to broad concepts such as ideas, systems, processes, or methods. Those belong more to patent and trademark, which overlap only in small ways that I’m not expert enough on to explain, so investigate. Copyright also does not cover names, titles, slogans, or very short phrases. In literary settings, though, it is usually safer to treat even brief lines as if they might be protected, simply to avoid trouble. How long does copyright protection remain in place? In most cases it lasts for the lifetime of the author plus an additional seventy years. For anonymous work or work created as a work for hire, the term is different. It lasts either ninety five years from the date it was first published or one hundred twenty years from the date it was created, and it ends when the earlier of those two periods runs out.
The publisher never takes copyright. The copyright remains with the author. The publisher only licenses the copyright, meaning the publisher has the right to print (or otherwise make available) or produce the work for some (limited) period of time. But if you publish a poem, for example, with a publisher, and you sign a contract, that poem may “belong” to the publisher for the duration of the contract. We’ve never held back an author from taking a work back or using it somewhere else, but I cannot speak for all publishers, so, though it should not be a problem to include in your chapbook a poem you published somewhere else, you may have to obtain permission to reprint it in another place. Do you have time to do that?
Another really interesting point the webinar brought up was that if a work is in the public domain, you do not need permission to use it. Fair use is a grey area, and so I would never recommend deciding on your own that something is fair use. I would suggest you contact Fred.
If you want to use an old poem in its original language, a piece that is long out of copyright, you can quote it freely. But if you want to use a modern translation of that same piece, the translation is probably under copyright. If you want to use something that is still in copyright, you might need permission from the copyright holder and also the holder of the copyright of the translation, and suddenly you’re in the weeds. And a lot of this costs money, to track down the copyright, and to pay for use. The webinar recommended the Watch File at the Harry Ransom Center as a good place to start. One person on the call said she often would ask bands directly, on their social media, if she could use their music or lyrics, but the presenters pointed out that while the band may (may, important distinction) hold copyright, someone else may hold the rights, and those folks could have very good “bots” looking for it on the internet, and show up with a big bill for you.
Even internet memes, tweets, etc., could belong to the person who posted them, and there could be consequences (of the financial kind is what we’re talking here) for you if you use them. And I liked that they made it clear that attribution (taken from “Friend of the Devil” by the Grateful Dead) does not give you permission: you can still find yourself on the hook for a lot of money. Yikes! And just because the author of a poem holds the copyright this doesn’t mean they’re not in a publishing deal where the publisher might own the reprint rights. You have to check it out to be sure.
The advice out there can differ greatly, and even The Poetry Foundation may have advice about fair use that the federal courts would not agree with, so the webinar strongly recommended that you either get permission, using someone like Fred, or skip it.
What do you think? Have you been playing with licensing fire? I am always encouraging authors to start an editing and publishing fund, but you may need a violation fund too! I hope not!
So friends I hope that you can sees "fair use" doesn't grow like leaves and poets and other fools like me as much as you would like it free accept that permission has a fee and you can't pick from another's tree.
Dianne Pearce is the chief editor and bottle washer at Current Words Publishing, and the half-cocked imaginer behind Old Scratch Press and Instant Noodles. Pearce loves helping writers realize the dream of having their work published. I mean she is really crazy about doing that for some reason. To that end, to join in the fray, to look at the thing from the other side, to stand in another’s shoes, and all of those things, she is fully expecting and promising to publish her first collection of poetry, In the Cancer Cafeteria, spring of 2026. Please don’t hold your breath. For very long. Happy Holidays!
Clearly the owner of that journal is not doing a good job of compiling her collection because on her journal is a slice of orange she is attempting to dry out, three crystals, and a paintbrush. The book is open and written in with a pencil, not good for preserving writing as (being a teacher for one-zillions years I can tell you) pencil smudges overtime to become indecipherable. She’s also got a pile of vintage mail (definitely older and already been mailed to her, to someone), which is deliciously tantalizing, and reading is much easier and more fun than writing.
Who is this mess of a woman? That’s a stock photo, but it could easily be my desk, with a few dozen highlighters and yesterday’s coffee added to the milieu.
It’s difficult for me to have a clean desk, no lie there. It’s difficult for me to spend time cleaning my desk, and not because I am not a neat person, but because I push my own things back. In fact, though I think of myself as a generally nice and “in a good mood” sort of person, I can get snappy when I feel tooo squeezed out.
I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.
JRR Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring (The Lord of the Rings, #1)
What a great bit of writing that is!
So I have made the bold assertion that I will publish my collection of poetry through Old Scratch Press in 2026. There. I said it to the group, and now I said it to you. I swear I’m gonna do it. I am going to occasionally clean my desk, and push in some room to get my collection together by pushing other things back (other things probably being sleep! Ha!). I just took on a new tutoring student, a few pro bono editing projects (my daughter’s school has a non-profit component to it, and I donated some editing to the auction, and it got bought!), a half dozen or so sample edits, in addition to the regular amount of edits, which is many hundreds of pages per month, and I signed up for a singing course with a friend, have a relative needing assistance for cancer treatments, a teen in need of a lot of “staying on track” help with school work and she is also involved in some theater projects her dad or I need to be the transportation for (and, in general, making sure she eats, remembers her glasses, etc.), and a business to run and a home and family, in addition to trying to squeeze in a daily run. I would love to run well enough to participate in a 5K, and I have been thinking of joining a thing in my neighborhood where I could get a running trainer. Of all of those things I am doing there is nothing I do not want to be doing, except for wishing my relative didn’t have cancer, of course. One friend had told me recently she was stepping back from a project, and I had anticipated it about four months earlier, actually, and I completely get it. My relative, who is staying with me this week and last for her treatments, woke up today and told me she is spending the last few days she needs to be local for her tests at a friend’s because she needs a change of scenery. I had expected that too, and I had prepared a to-go coffee for her before she woke up. However I have a HS friend on FB who is every bit as engaged in politics as I am, and worried about the general state of what we see as the slide into authoritarianism, and another HS classmate said to him, “We liked it better when you just wrote about your kids and scouting. You don’t have a lot of chapters (she actually wrote chapters!) left; don’t waste them on this.” and I could not agree less. Age, chapter of life, has nothing to do with wanting to accomplish things and caring about things outside of ourselves, so, no, I do not think he should stop fighting the good fight. Yet I feel that I do have an understanding that we literally cannot do it all, and don’t want to, and I respect it, and think it is a good thing, and I flatter myself that I am especially good at reading the room, and can see when change is coming. But, I’m not good at, “No.” I’m not good at giving up on something I’ve begun, even if it does not realize my own dream. It’s an obstacle because in order to publish one of my many projects, I assumed I would have to come up with a good, firm, “No.” And I simply can’t. So I have decided instead to come up with a good, slightly quavering, “Yes.” I’m outing myself that I am going to put my damn book out. I am saying it, and affirming it, and treating it, as much as possible, as a done deal. I think if I normalize it, the way I normalize all the other things, I will simply do it because it has a due-date, or a do-date. Both!
And so, here is my question to you:
If you have been writing short stories, short non-fiction, flash, poetry, for some time now (I’m not going to say I’ve been writing for decades, but at least since the synth-pop craze and the resurgence of skinny ties (the best kind of ties)), how do you choose what to include, and what to leave behind, resting, forever lost in a permanent dream state in the “my writing” file on your desktop? Though the synth-pop craze wasn’t what I would describe as a serious time in the world, I was a serious writer; I took myself very seriously, and I think that “me” has somehow stuck around, and I judge that writing to be more profound, when in reality for pretty much all of us our early writing is awful. I remember writing a poem laden with love and portent that was about a page long and contained only the word “baby” written over and over again in different combinations with possessive pronouns and a few sappy adjectives. Songs, when sung, can add meaning through cadence, tone, etc., but, with that “baby” experiment I learned that mere words on a page cannot do that. It was a piece of absolute dreck. I do not regret deleting it!
So, those old pieces hold special meaning for me, but most are not very good (I confess I still think some of them are genius!), and almost all are not even remotely relevant to who I am now. Though I am still a whiny liberal with a moral bent, and that still is there, even in the new pieces.
And this is it, my one chance to publish my poetry, to put it out there in the world. When I was in my MA and MFA programs I knew who the “it” poets were in the world of poets who published, and I wanted to join them, to earn their respect. And as I tried I very much felt borne farther away from them. Primarily by life circumstances and that inability to say no, that pushing back of my own things, more than anything else. And that very much was a tell (an inadvertent behavior or mannerism that betrays) that I didn’t belong among them. Writers who are successful (and success looks different for a poet than a novelist, or self-help book author, etc.) almost all have a modicum of selfishness that allows them to push things away that don’t serve them, and also leads them to self-preserve. They’re not going to be dumb enough to share their “baby” poem with their thesis advisor. Selfishness belongs on the seven deadly sins list, IMHO. But success almost needs it, like a plant needs water, to survive.
So, for better or for worse, committing a deadly sin or not, I am going to get this thing done as if it is not even my thing, so I will not be being selfish; I will simply be doing another job on the list.
But, again, I have this question: if you could put together a collection of your writing (or publish one of your novels, if you write long-form) how do you choose? How do you group? How do you look back over your body of work and say, “This goes; this doesn’t?” And if you could have your book published next year, what would you want on your cover, and why? While working with OSP one thing that has continually surprised me is that the authors seem to know what the cover needs to be. How in the heck….?
So, what about you? Would you know? I’m super curious to hear! Drop me a comment below!
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