This years conference is over and done. Thousands of would be best selling writers with dreams. One percent might actually well be published. It is known as the profession of rejection. One of the lessons you learn is losing is giving up. The dream is alive as long as we continue to write. This year I entered three new poems and my novel. One of my goals has been accomplished. I have been published and my book of poems and short stories last year was on the Amazon wish list, "Womb of the Same Mother" by Dan J Donlan. My poetry has been published Internationally. My dream is not with poetry. I hope someday to have my novels published.
For you who share my dream going to the conference is a good learning start. Do not expect to be discovered you go there to learn. My poetry entry was edited by one editor and one book Doctor. I hadn't expected to win. None of my published poems could be submitted and it was rough drafted two days before the deadline. Three hundred plus novel had to be submitted in 25 pages. The profession of rejection. One judge wrote, "Although I love the way this poetry is written I cannot give high marks if I do not understand the meaning of the poetry. This is one submission:
TWILIGHT'S SCARLET TEASE
Often courted is she in morning sunrise
A thousand suitors who come to beacon
In awe as one by one beau's savoring
This magnificence they come seeking
As late clouds gather in darkening night
Orange-purple skies add splinters of fading light
Yet a fickle lady she leaves with no suitors
Magically disappearing beneath snow white waves alone
Evening approaches in twilight's gleaming
Too soon this lady vanishing no mate chosen
Scarlet vermilion hearts must wait for morning
Those left behind to court in mist are frozen
Majestically the sun fading falls and hides
Shadowed beneath the tides of ocean waves
Splendorous her majesty in her nudity
A virgin Queen doth fall in a last peaking
Lost in fate another night in mists uncertain
Unfeathered this lady slips beneath a blazing curtain
That each one must know her kiss was only flirtain
Disappearing under florescent waves returning certain.
UNDER THE APPLE TREE
The heart doth know
What hides below
A smile a nod
Still love must be denied
The sweetest of apples remain
High upon the limbs
The rest falling to the bottom
To feed the multitudes
For that special apple to be found
Leave for others those falling to the ground
One day a special person
Will come from far above you
Only then can you say
"You are special!"
I have waited for this day
To say, "I love you!"
A writer must learn from criticism. One of the lessons learned. Seen from another's eyes there is clarity. I originally had the line beginning majesty at the beginning of the poem. Writing is tough always judged by others eyes. I had one six minute time with a potential agent. She said, "So what is your pitch?" My novel begins with a Prologue introducing one of two detectives---!" And, "Take the Prologue out and only use one detective." And, "But it is part of the plot that one detective messes up the case." And, "Throw out any mention of a second detective and start without a prologue." The field of rejection. But the conference is a place to learn. She liked one ladies poems beginning and asked her to send more of her submission. It began: "Clouds were flying by" A second, "I am writing about lighthouses I have visited." The agent loves lighthouses. A third kept a daily diary of her day with her poopsy. The agents all loved dog stories. It is a tough field this profession of rejection. I think I will attend next year better prepared. I am starting my new novel, "Clouds were flying by the lighthouse." As I take Poopsy on her daily walk. We stop as I raise the bag. Isn't that so visual?
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