Building a Readership: Five Paths for Poets, Path 2.

Published on July 7, 2026June 23, 2026 by diannePLeave a comment

PATH 2: Literary Journals

Why Literary Journals Still Matter

When poets talk about building a readership, literary journals are often one of the first recommendations they receive. Yet many writers, especially those outside academic circles, wonder whether journals still matter in an age of websites, social media, and self-publishing.

The short answer is yes.

Literary journals remain one of the most accessible ways for poets to introduce their work to new readers, establish publishing credentials, and become part of the broader literary conversation. While publication in a journal rarely leads to instant fame or large sales numbers, it can help create the foundation upon which a readership is built.

For many poets, journals provide something equally important: discovery. Readers who may never have encountered your work otherwise can stumble across a poem in a magazine, become interested in your writing, and begin following your career. Editors, event organizers, workshop leaders, and fellow poets often discover new voices through journals as well.

If you’re new to submissions, finding journals is easier than ever. Resources such as Chill Subs, Duotrope, Poets & Writers, New Pages, and the Community of Literary Magazines and Presses (CLMP) maintain extensive databases of literary magazines and submission opportunities. Many journals also maintain active social media accounts where they announce open reading periods, special themes, and contests.

One of the most common mistakes beginning poets make is submitting without first reading the publication. Whenever possible, spend some time with a journal before sending your work. Read several poems. Pay attention to the styles, themes, and voices the editors seem to favor. Not because you should imitate them, but because you’ll gain a better sense of whether your work is likely to be a good fit.

Many journals now accept submissions through online platforms such as Submittable and Moksha. These systems make it easy to track submissions, but they have also increased competition by making it easier for writers to submit widely. Rejection remains a normal part of the process. Even accomplished poets accumulate large numbers of rejections throughout their careers.

At some point, every poet encounters the question of reading fees. Some journals charge a small fee, often between two and five dollars, to help cover administrative costs, software subscriptions, and staff expenses. Others operate entirely without fees. Opinions vary widely on the practice. Some writers avoid reading fees altogether, while others are comfortable paying modest amounts to support journals they respect.

There is no single correct approach. However, poets should be thoughtful about where they spend their money. A small fee for a well-established publication may be reasonable. Paying large amounts to submit work to unknown organizations is generally less advisable. As with any publishing opportunity, it pays to do a little research before opening your wallet.

Another decision involves print versus digital publications. Some poets strongly prefer print journals because they enjoy seeing their work in a physical publication and because print journals often carry a certain prestige. Others appreciate the accessibility of online journals, where poems can be discovered by readers around the world with a simple click.

The truth is that both formats offer advantages. Print journals provide permanence and a tangible reading experience. Online journals often offer broader reach, searchable archives, and the possibility of sharing links directly with readers. Many respected literary publications now operate in both formats, making the distinction less important than it once was.

It is also worth remembering that publication credits are not merely lines on a résumé. Every journal publication expands your visibility. A handful of well-placed poems can lead to invitations to readings, relationships with editors, opportunities for future publication, and readers who may eventually purchase your collection.

For poets considering a future book project, journal publication can be especially valuable. Individual poems published over time help establish a track record of activity and engagement within the literary community. They can also provide useful feedback about which poems resonate most strongly with readers and editors.

At the same time, don’t fall into the trap of believing that journal publication is the only path to legitimacy. Many excellent poets publish widely in journals. Many others build readership through readings, workshops, social media, teaching, community engagement, or independent publishing. Literary journals are one tool among many.

Ultimately, journals matter because they help connect poems with readers. They provide opportunities for discovery, conversation, and community. For poets seeking to build a readership, submitting to journals remains one of the most practical and effective ways to begin sharing work beyond their immediate circle.

If you’ve been considering submitting your poetry, start small. Find a few journals you genuinely enjoy reading, study their guidelines, and send your work into the world. Every publication began with a first submission, and every poet who appears in a journal today was once a writer nervously pressing “submit” for the very first time.

Building a Readership: Five Paths for Poets, Path 1.

Published on June 30, 2026June 23, 2026 by diannePLeave a comment

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.

screenshot of poets and writers event calendar

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.

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!

Like a blot from the blue: Are you reading your work?

Published on August 10, 2025 by diannePLeave a comment

Recently Robert Fleming was nice enough to get Old Scratch Press booked on Like a blot from the blue. Robert Fleming, Gabby Gilliam, Anthony Doyle, Alan Bern, Virginia (Ginny) Watts, and I showed up. I gave a little information on Old Scratch Press; Gabby gave some information Instant Noodles, and Anthony and Ginny read from their new books. Being there and presenting to an international audience was a fantastic opportunity for us, and the folks there were great.

What I liked even more were the other people who showed up.

I’m going to guess that there were about 30 people who showed up who were not us, one of whom was Fin Hall, the blot-in-chief. It was clear that many of these folks had been attending regularly for quite some time. One at a time, in turn, based on when they signed up, Fin called on each person, and the author read 1-3 poems, depending on length.

When I was in my twenties and thirties, which, sadly, I am not any more, I used to read at LIP (live, in person) open mics all the time, and I would often have to hang in until midnight to get my chance. Usually these were held in bars in Philadelphia, or in West Chester, Pennsylvania. I did my best to dress as “punk rock” as possible, and my general aim, if I’m honest, was to get laid. It’s frankly shocking how few times that happened, when that was clearly my intent. I usually had on a mini skirt and was showing cleavage, but, in truth, people who knew me then told me then, and will reiterate the very same thing today, that me punked-out and showing cleavage was, somehow, still giving Julie Andrews when what I was going for was Grace Slick. Ah well.

In any case, the thrill of reading, and the thrill of possibly getting lucky, and the location (always bars) also meant that, in all likelihood, by the time they got to me on the sign-up list, I was hella drunk. I was a smoker (Benson and Hedges 100s back then), but because I was also a poser: at those events I came with a pack of Dunhill Blue.

Waaaay too expensive to smoke all the time, but on open mic nights I always stopped at the news agent’s (Philadelphia had news agents!) to get a pack beforehand.

A few times/year the venues would ask me to be the featured reader, and I think that was because I was also volunteering with a little Zine called Magic Bullet (run by Andrew Craig, wherever he is today), which I had quite a few publications in, and, who knows, maybe I was good.

I was working my way through an MA and then an MFA from my twenties into my thirties, and my professors seemed to think I was good, as well, and I won the student awards each year, so maybe. When I read at the school events I was not drunk, but neither was I nervous, perhaps because my professors made me feel gifted.

And then, sometime around the end of my last degree, life took a turn. My very long relationship went very south. Another relationship pooped too quickly, and flamed out just as fast, and I remember I felt, while I was still prolific as a poet, that I had somehow lost at life. I wanted, you see, to become a published poet and a professor, and a spouse, and a parent, and I wanted all four things to work out perfectly, and just none of them did.

My life, then, became a series of edits. If it didn’t work to have the man with the red hair, then cut him from the piece, and write in another man, one with cheap beer on his lips. It was so time-consuming to send out work, one poem here, and one there, through the mail, keeping track of where it went, and keeping a lookout for the SASE to bring it back, and seeing if it was in decent enough condition to be mailed back out again, and I remember for awhile I was printing on onion skin to save money (who knows what that is?), and digging up the two dollars or eight quarters to send the piece of onion skin back out, and waiting for the SASE again to return, and each time writing a letter of introduction, sometimes including letters of introduction from my professors who were consistently and kindly encouraging. I remember two of them, who seemed to think my writing was the bee’s knees, were flummoxed that my poems weren’t getting entry, but maybe the long narrative style went out with Wordsworth. And life became more about driving from 9-5 job to college job to relationship, to moving out, to moving over there, to trying again, to keep on trying, to being, frankly, trying.

Little by little, returned SASE by SASE, edited dream by edited dream, the writing dribbled to a stop. Drip, drip, dr—

It was so quiet in my head.

Well, in the poetry part of my head at least.

And a decade and a half ran through my fingers.

And then I started writing again. Not only poetry, and not the plays I wrote in my twenties, but fiction, and memoir, which is, I guess, what this is.

I found myself in a place where the place, the locale, was so small and local, it felt small enough that I dared to go to a reading again.

But over the intervening years something just awful seemed to have happened. When I showed up to read at the open mics, even when I went with friends, I could not make it through a single poem without devolving into tears. And maybe there’s a reason for this shocking behavior, and maybe there isn’t, but it seems as inevitable to me as hair going grey, and as unavoidable as the red dot from a sniper’s gun in one of those movies with snipers.

And yet, at the simple evening with Blot from the blue I felt encouraged. The readers were great, and seemed normal (for the most part… I mean, poets, right?), and kindly, and on Zoom my head is no bigger than a Cerignola olive, so I am going to say I felt safe. I think it would be quite okay to join in, and I asked him later, and Fin said yes, folks can join. And folks could mean me, or you.

So what the hell, let’s try it!

Find out about Blot here.

And use this email to express interest likeablotfromtheblue@gmail.com.

And if you show up, be a goooood listener first, and a good reader second.

I’m not much of a drinker these days, so if I show up it will probably be very sober, and there hasn’t been any nicotine in these lungs for a long spell. I will, however, be caffeinated. And that’s at least something. The poem I am thinking of reading has some sound effects in it, which is probably ill-advised. But after I read, and make whatever sort of a fool of myself I am destined to be, I can write a new poem: Pearce With Her Pants Fallen Down.

Nadja often finishes her posts with a writing prompt, so here is me, stealing that excellent idea:

Think of an “edit” you made in your own life, by choice or by force. How did it work out for you?

Have you ever read at an open mic? Write a flash memoir piece describing your experience.

Thanks for reading!

Dianne