Corinne Lee, Owner and Publisher of Winnow Press
Jendi Reiter conducted this exclusive email interview with Corinne Lee, an award-winning poet and the founder of Austin, Texas-based poetry publisher Winnow Press. Lee's first collection, PYX, won the prestigious National Poetry Series in 2004 and will be published by Viking-Penguin later this year. See samples of her work at:
http://www.thediagram.com/4_5/lee.html
Winnow Press sponsors a chapbook contest and two full-length manuscript contests, one of which is a first-book prize and the other an open competition. Forthcoming titles include the elegant chapbook Souvenir, Modigliani by Jacqueline Kolosov and Field Stone by Catherine Kasper, which won the 2004 First Book Award.
Q: Tell me about the history of Winnow Press. Why did you start it? What makes it unique?
A: Winnow Press began as an act of protest. I had entered a couple of poetry magazine contests. One of the sponsors, a prominent literary journal, accidentally sent back the screener's evaluation form. The screener's comments were full of grammatical and spelling errors, and it was clear that she had not read my work even on a superficial basis. I began to wonder who would screen my work for poetry book contests, and I soon discovered that in most cases, my manuscript would initially be read by graduate students. The idea of paying $20-25 for a graduate student to read my work did not appeal to me. I knew that most MFA graduate students, especially those in their first year of study, were relatively uneducated in contemporary poetry — the majority of undergraduate English and Creative Writing BA programs offer distressingly few courses in postmodern poetry.
I therefore began Winnow Press to ensure that emerging writers would be guaranteed at least one careful read of their work. There are only a handful of other presses that promise this. Also, I have worked in the publishing industry for a couple of decades, and I have been a book lover since I was a toddler — so I know how to produce books and chapbooks of exceptional quality. I also know many professional editors who are devoted readers and writers — folks who are willing to work without pay for a small press. We began the press in 2002, with a commitment to produce the best books and chapbooks we could afford.
We're unique because our goal is to publish an endless variety of authors; we don't hold fast to any particular style of writing. We also have an unusual dedication to creating high-quality chapbooks. I know of only three other presses that publish chapbooks as fine as ours.
Book design is a complex art, and many of our staff members are experts in different aspects of the process of taking a manuscript from cover design (yes, that should come first) to deep revision, copyediting, interior design, and composition. I've noticed, for instance, that many fine small presses design lovely covers but fail to establish design continuity with the books' interiors. In other words, there should be a marriage between the cover and the interior in terms of fonts, general "feel," and other elements. We carefully attend to those and other aspects of high-end book production.
Q: How does your location (Austin, Texas) influence your own work and/or the editorial direction of Winnow Press?
A: Austin ranks among the top cities in the United States for book sales per capita. I've never met so many editors, writers, and avid readers in one place before — even in New York or Boston. Also, Austin is a hub for educational publishers. Winnow Press is therefore fortunate in that we can have access to some of the best book designers and printers in the country — but not at East Coast prices.
I don't think that the location of the press affects its editorial direction, other than the fact that we are fortunate to have exceptionally educated, experienced staff. It's a fluke that two of our authors are from Texas; since manuscripts are stripped of all identification, even acknowledgments, none of the judges were aware of those authors' origins.
Q: Tell me about your promotional efforts on behalf of Winnow Press books. How many copies does a single title usually sell? Which marketing tactics (by author or publisher) have been particularly effective, and which ones are not worth the trouble?
A: All our titles are currently published as review copies; they are not technically "published" until the summer. They are available at chain and independent bookstores via Baker & Taylor. We are printing our books early so that we can send as many copies as possible out for review.
In my experience working for various small presses, the most effective marketing tools are readings, author websites, and author blogs (indeed, I encourage any poet, even if he or she has not published a book, to pursue those methods of promotion). Of course, major national media coverage is wonderful — but it is exceedingly rare for small press books.
We are giving all authors a minimum of 100 custom-designed postcards and bookmarks that replicate the covers of their books. We hope to increase this number dramatically in the future. Obviously, we hope that authors will send the postcards to people who might buy their book, and distribute the bookmarks at readings and in bookstores.
Q: Describe the judging process. How many manuscripts do you receive, and how many make it to the final judge? Is every manuscript read through from cover to cover?
A: For our book contests, we receive between 300 and 400 manuscripts. We send either a half dozen or a dozen to the final judge. We first scan every manuscript cover to cover and strip it of all identifying information — we do so before even cashing the authors' checks. Sometimes we find authors' names buried in the text, or references that make it obvious who the author is. (We've been disappointed by the number of authors who enclose personal letters to the judges, vitas, resumes, photos, and the like; all that material is promptly discarded, so it is just an annoyance to us.) We send those manuscripts back without cashing the checks. The manuscripts are then read cover to cover; that said, sometimes we do a light reading of a manuscript's center section if the poems are notably slipshod (e.g., so full of errors in standard English that they are nearly incomprehensible).
Q: In the Winnow Press book and chapbook contests, what qualities distinguish the winning manuscripts from the near-misses?
A: I can't say originality, because some of our winners have not produced work that is remarkably unique. We're publishing authors whose work ranges from what is typically regarded as innovative to those whose work is perceived as being mainstream. I could ramble on for eons about ways in which quality, a criterion which is elusive at best, manifests itself. But I think that we're mostly inclined to select authors whose work moves us emotionally (in scholarly terms, we are intrigued by a manuscript's affect). Now, I'm referring to the screening process only; I can't speak for our judges' tastes and benchmarks. Personally, I've always been interested in Immanuel Kant's exploration of aesthetics, and I hope that our books are manifestations of those standards.
Q: How do you select the guest poets who judge the finalist manuscripts? Is there any stylistic or thematic commonality among the judges whom you've chosen over the years?
A: So far, we're holding fast to two judges, Kathleen Peirce and Aaron McCollough, because we admire both their poetry and their sensibilities. Kathleen and Aaron are willing to embrace a wide range of poetry, which is important to the ethos of this press.
Q: Are there manuscripts that, even if decently written, would not be right for Winnow Press (or at least would be at a disadvantage in the judging process) because of their style or subject matter? Please elaborate.
A: There is only one type of manuscript that is not appropriate for this press: manuscripts in which the author attempts to reveal his or her identity, in an attempt to curry favor with editors or a judge. Along those lines, we are NOT impressed by extensive acknowledgments or supposedly impressive professional pedigrees. Ironically, we've often found that manuscripts with the most awe-inspiring acknowledgments lists are frequently hollow, devoid of any life force — as if the author has been struggling too hard to please too many magazine editors, for too many years.
Q: Both your own poetry and that of 2004 Winnow Press First Book Award winner Catherine Kasper lean in a direction that I would call "experimental": compressed, oblique, nonlinear, as opposed to the straightforward "accessible" narrative or confessional lyric. What do you think of the label "experimental," both as applied to your work and as a general term in poetry criticism? Are there other terms that you'd consider more accurate or informative?
A: I've always been troubled by the label "experimental," as it is inherently problematic. Experimentation is all relative — it's solely in the eye of the beholder. (Indeed, Jendi, some people might consider many of your poems to be experimental, yet others might claim they are mainstream!) For example, I was just listening to Tchaikovsky's famous violin concerto; it is now the gold standard for violinists, played so often that it is virtually a cliche. When it premiered in the late 1800s, some people loved it, but generally it was considered an abomination — audiences booed, and the most prominent critic of the day said that he could "hear" it "stink." History is rife with such examples.
I recently received a rejection from a magazine that claimed my poems were too anchored in reality; the editor said she was "allergic to reality." However, other magazines have rejected my poems with the assertion that they are everything from "bizarre" to "incomprehensible." What gives? Nothing but this: Everyone has a different and wondrous sense of aesthetics. I worry when I hear young writers talk about how they're entering a poetry contest judged by, say, Billy Collins — and they are confident he will select their work because their poetry is similar to his. Well, Collins selected Tremolo by Spencer Short for the National Poetry Series; Short's work is at a polar remove from that of Collins. Contest entrants should give judges more credit. My tastes, for example, range from A. R. Ammons to Louis Zukofsky. I don't judge poetry contests, but I'm open to whatever strikes my fancy — and so are our editors. As for Winnow Press, although we are publishing Catherine Kasper's book, which stretches various boundaries, we are also publishing poems by Jacqueline Kolosov, a more traditional poet. Obviously, there is merit in all types of poetry, even in the greeting card variety (surely it has its finger on the pulse of contemporary mores).
We state on our website that we encourage experimentation, but we merely want authors to know that we welcome an infinite variety of work. Nevertheless, I believe poets should aggressively reach beyond their comfort levels in terms of what they write and read; that's inherent in the responsibility of being an artist. The Tchaikovskys of poetry are writing all around us.
To answer your question about whether I have alternative labels for "experimental" — I don't. I loathe labels; they're for the critics to apply! If "experimental" poetry must be labeled, then I'd prefer a more positive term, such as "innovative"..."experimental" has negative connotations of separation, difference, and impermanence.
Q: Your first book, PYX, won the 2004 National Poetry Series, a prestigious award, after being a finalist in the Tupelo Press Poetry Contest. Tell me about the steps that led to this success.
A: I've only written poetry for about three years. I used to write nonfiction and fiction, but writing was very difficult because I was disabled, and my disability affected my hands. (I've since had surgeries that eliminated my disability.) In 2000, I gave birth to a daughter, and, shortly thereafter, a son. Writing lengthy pieces became impossible due to time constraints. So I turned to poetry. I wrote hundreds of poems within a couple of years (many of them composed on scraps of paper between doing diaper changes!). Inevitably, after putting a few manuscripts together, I investigated the odds of getting them published — clearly, poetry book contests were the only option. I entered four contests: nothing happened with the first; I placed in the second and third contests; and I won the fourth one, the National Poetry Series. I found your site to be extremely valuable, in that it allowed me to evaluate different publishers that ran contests. I did not have much time to enter contests back then, so the merits of different publishers were very important. I chose Tupelo Press because of its reputation for producing quality books and running ethical contests.
Q: How much time did it take to find a publisher?
A: Not long! Interestingly, I had published only a half-dozen or so of the poems in PYX when I entered it in the National Poetry Series. I was — and continue to be — far more interested in writing poetry than in sending it to magazines. I was stunned when the manuscript won. I then had to scramble to get some of the poems published in magazines! I hope this provides encouragement to beginning poets; the work matters far more than where it is published.
Q: Did you enter all contests for which you were eligible, or just a select few? How did you make that decision, and would you recommend your strategy to other writers in the same position?
A: As I mentioned above, I only selected a few. I made decisions based on the quality of the press, on the merits of its screeners, and on its promise to have manuscripts judged anonymously, without acknowledgments. Yes, I recommend this strategy to other writers. Anonymity is very difficult, perhaps impossible, for a press to guarantee. For instance, even though we strip our manuscripts of all identifying information, judges probably recognize authors' work here and there. The world of contemporary poetry can fit in a teacup. Yet presses can at least employ non-student screeners and commit to sending anonymous manuscripts to judges.
Q: Did you revise your manuscript along the way? If so, how did you decide what to change?
A: I made a handful of revisions after the manuscript was accepted. Those revisions largely were in response to queries made by Penguin's astute copyeditors.
Q: What did you learn from this experience that would be useful to other first-book authors?
A: Pour the lion's share of your energy into writing and reading poems, not into sending them out. There are a few reputable presses that submit manuscripts to judges without acknowledgments; send your manuscript to them. The judges for those presses will focus on your poems, not on where they were published.
Q: How has your experience as an editor changed your perspective as a contest entrant, and vice versa? E.g. lessons learned, sympathies shifted? What would you say to help each side see the other's point of view?
A: Because I have submitted my manuscripts to contests, I feel tremendous compassion for contest entrants. We receive many odd manuscripts — for example, I recently read a manuscript written entirely to a man's dead dog. The poems were undeveloped at best. Now, some might find those poems humorous — and I'm sure that would horrify the author. But their intent and content touched me, and I feel a responsibility to the author because he took the time to arrange and send them in book form (not an easy or brief task). He trusted our press with his manuscript, and I want to return that trust by giving his poems fair consideration.
In terms of helping points of view to shift, I'd advise authors to support small presses. I find it troubling that so few authors read contemporary poetry, especially small press books. We offer a free book to any entrant who sends us an SASE. Only 5% to 10% of entrants send an SASE! I can't imagine turning down a free small press book, especially the winning entry from a contest in which I've participated. At Winnow Press, we can tell that countless entrants are unaware of contemporary poetry. Their manuscripts are full of quotes from "canon" poets like Tennyson and Browning; many of their poems include rigid end rhymes; and few, if any, of their poems deviate from narration. We're open to those manuscripts — indeed, it would be wonderful to find such a manuscript that was so superb we wanted to publish it — but authors should be cognizant of placing themselves among the thundering herd. I'm not sanctioning being different merely for the sake of difference. However, there is value in being different for the purpose of celebrating your unique vision.
Spring 2005
