Even before I had done any real research or taken my first steps into the legitimate literary world, the intellect, attitudes and ideas I gained through my parents and early life experiences gave me an expansive sense of entitlement. A specific delusion I suffered from was believing that the first time my work was read by any sound judge of a literary competition, my name would be affixed to the prize and I’d be on my way to fame. By the midway point of 1993, however, my steady outreach to editors covering poetry and short fiction had only resulted in a growing collection of rejection slips. Most of them were just generic slips of paper, photocopied and stuck into the required SASE (self-addressed stamped envelope) without a second’s thought… but others were from manuscript competitions where I had little choice but to accept that my work had actually been read and deemed unworthy. Read more
Thank you very much for your interest in my education and exploits as a poet over the past 20 years. With Arc of the Poet, I’m aiming to share the most interesting highlights and lowlights as briefly, and as colorfully, as possible.
Even before 1990 had officially begun, I recall feeling anxious for it to be over. It truly was an endurance test for me, involving one marathon ordeal after another. I turned 23 that year, with no fanfare, and I took that as a sign of maturity. I also persevered in seizing my military and college experiences with the best of my thoughts and abilities, which I saw as evidence of my growing strength and confidence. By the time it ended, 1990 gave me a great deal in return for all my efforts. Read more
Between 1978 and 1989, I went from 12 to 23… from wondering about being a man to being one.
I have a short stack of decent poetic writings from those days, and as you’d expect, they are about things like love, friends and life’s big events, positive and otherwise. I moved each year of high school… from Greenville in Illinois my freshmen year (Scott’s sensational senior one), to Chattanooga, Tennessee, then Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. When her second marriage ended, Mom and I moved to Orlando for what was to be my senior year, and her career phase next. With so much moving, a lot of my writing was about what I believe T.S. Eliot called “melancholy.” As my studies continued, Read more