I find myself often at a loss as to what publishers of poetry and drama want these days. I’m told the subjects to which I’ve always been dedicated—love, labor, birth, death, taxes, God—are all verboten. So, I will pull up lists of contests/awards/publications and, when I investigate the journal, they always want me to check out what they’ve awarded/published before, and I strain to see connections in my own work that fits their needs. Perhaps it is best that this year I submitted to two publications which were either a) just beginning or b) re-launching because they seemed to be interested in my subjects—things eternal rather than temporal.
I figured getting my poetry published would always be a self-publishing job. In 2018, I collected what I felt were my best “love poems” into a volume called Eons and Other Love Poems which, through my own imprimatur, Holly Grove Press, sold rather well as I peddled it among friends and associates. When I look back on it now, it is a collection that makes me sad. There are a few rapturous loves poems—but mostly contained therein are poems of love and loss and rue toward loves past. But it still does have some of my favorite pieces I've written—in particular “Sifting through Damage” and “Lauren Bursting through the Shadows” (the latter of which which I’ve since republished on the blog).
But thanks to lists on the internet for publications/prizes you don’t have to pay entry fees for, I came across one by an ecologically-minded organization out of Massachusetts called Blue Institute. This year was their 5th annual Words on Water Writing Contest and I submitted a poem from yesteryear (as it was written when dad was still alive) called “The Rain Dance.” Some fixes were in order, but I was pleased when it garnered second place and even more pleased a fellow Benningtonian was the judge (as Bennington was the first place not to recognize my poetic tendencies). The poem was published on their website and, though some of the formatting of the stanzas are off, it is nice to see it in print and recognized.
Then, I found a journal seeking poems on the subject of past regrets. Well—right up my alley, I thought. Literature Today: An International Literary Journal was re-starting its electronic and print publication and I submitted another older poem, “Toast to Reneé," a sort of send-off to a former muse. It was selected and I finally felt like a true prize-winning, published poet. I’m not sure what that means in terms of the world today, but it has a nice ring to it.
Also through the internet, I discovered an enterprising editor who was starting a journal of “mini plays,” not a forum for making bread obviously, but it does have its forebears. Many established playwrights write short monologue-themed one-act plays for publication (David Mamet, Neil LaBute, August Strindberg, even) and these find their way into nights of short works. Regardless, the two-page minimum was a challenge and, as I’ve connected with other playwrights published by Mini Plays Review: An International Journal of Short Plays, I discovered many of us took selections or re-tooled previous pieces to fit into the page numbers allowed.
The first issue was, indeed, concerning love and (in a strange way) the piece was the first written for the aforementioned muse. Approaching the Summer Sun began as a monologue spoken by one character. It was written in verse—I was going through a phase when I considered having my plays explode into verse (attempting a style.) I have not kept up with this, but the only major work that survives from the period is Wars and Rumors of Wars, the play where Approaching the Summer Sun found its spot, this time as a fantasy, dream-like dialogue between two people who are essentially finishing each other’s sentences—thus, the piece is still (for all intents and purposes) a monologue, just split between two people.
Wars and Rumors of Wars did receive a concert reading in 2011, featuring a terrific performance from my friend Ray Cole, who I most recently acted with in Waiting for Godot. The work was generally well-received though the major theme—a teacher's relationship with a student—caused some actors to question it. Now, we find miniseries on this topic once every couple of years. The dangerous theme went well with a play about a man whose psyche is torn and who regularly verbally spars with his dream self. The play was written not as a play to be staged, but a play to be performed like an oratorio or reading—the actors would read from the text off sheet music stands, in formal dress, as if they were about to perform Handel's Messiah. They each had “arias” (monologues) and “recitatives” (scenes of dialogue). So, the little sliver of Approaching the Summer Sun was a bit of an odd offer, coming from an odd play, but it made it in the first issue.
Of course, the writers were let known another edition was forthcoming, this time with the theme of friendship. Again, all of these publications not wanting hot-button political topics was refreshing because that is well out of my métier. I did have such a piece (of a friendship dying) and it, again, formed a part of a longer play, albeit a ten-minute one, A Judah Kiss from 2008. The play, a quarrel between two friends over the death of their third Musketeer, rose in its climax to a blistering monologue from Dylan who takes his anger at his friend’s death and throws it up to Blake, who was not around during the deceased’s illness.
A Judah Kiss was originally meant to be a more poetical title, conjuring up images of the famous Judas kiss from the Gospels and the imagery of the Lion of Judah from the Hebrew Bible. The same day we did a reading of Wars, we also did a complete reading of the short play cycle from which Judah was culled—The Brotherhood Cycle—meant to be nine short piece performed by the same two actors playing differing roles, one actor Caucasian, the other African American. Its frankness wouldn’t fly today as I was writing about those of African descent where I grew up, who largely were the only Black member of a church and had very different perspectives on race. Overall, though, it’s the short play cycle (I’ve written three) of which I’m most proud. There was even a plan to film a version of A Judah Kiss. A screenplay was written, Ajudakis—an even more wacky title—and some scraps of scenes were filmed, but budgetary issues and poor planning left the project from getting lift-off.
Still, the tiny scene of the confrontation has always retained a mean kind of power and by eliminating stage directions and focusing it down to its essence, The Judah Kiss emerged as a selection for Mini Plays Review. I’m delighted to write it was accepted for the September 2023 edition. I have yet to receive my copy, but the work is already electronically published and for sale along with the works of over fifty other playwrights.
As you might know, I read a play a day to keep limber and I’ve been going through the plays in Issue 1 as they provide for more work during the day and I get to know playwrights I normally wouldn’t be introduced to. If you’re curious about my “daily read,” I post the plays and feature the playwrights on X (formerly Twitter) and Instagram daily.
Thanks again to Mini Plays Review for the opportunity to be in print—four times this year! It has certainly been a lucky year for publications.
To more! And, for those of you who have something interesting, submit it—you just never know.
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