Poetry rarely pays. When it does, it's more of a delightful anomaly. This year, I've been lucky enough to be both paid for a reading and get a check for a poem in a journal, and this will probably be all the money I will really make from poetry in traditional ways this year. I have sold quite a few copies of newer books and zines that when cleared of expenses, is a little poetry mad money (mostly going back into new projects or, in the case of full-lengths, new author copies.) Sometimes, I get larger or smaller royalty checks, but mostly smaller. But ultimately, I made far much more selling art and paper goods than I ever will as a poet, even with a couple cash prizes under my belt from years ago.
Many poets teach to make a living. Or work jobs decidedly not related to poetry at all. If you're super famous, you might get some sweet reading/performance income. If you hustle, fellowships and residencies that can support you enough to write in peace. Prizes are nice, but like a casino, they take money to make money. (If you're really lucky, you are independently wealthy or have a spouse with a good job..lol..) Still, for most poets, when it comes to words, the fiscal rewards are few and far between. I had a moment last year, struggling with covid whiplash and and a hard knock realization that I've spent my years giving energies to writing and meanwhile I am not all prepared for emergencies in my life financially (not becuase of poetry per se, but more from the choice to not pursue another more stable career.) In fact, I was just coming off the monthly hemorahage of the studio rental for more than a decade. . I almost bowed out completely. Said fuck it on my creative pursuits. Why give the creative world my best when it gives so little in return?
Granted, it was panic talking, and fear, and that particular wave retreated by mid-summer, but it also forced some thoughts on how we balance the economic factors and production. Also the things and thoughts we take for granted in terms of what is expected of us as writers (and of course, this varies depending on who you are talking to and what communities you run in.) I decided I would not throw in the towel, but that I would also try to retrain myself on thought systems that don't serve me well as an artist. What sustains me? What drains me? What inspires me and what do I hate about po-biz and publishing and how can I navigate those things?
I've been making monthly zines for awhile for my books & objects series, and while it's a nice bit of extra income that spurs me to create more zines and projects, it's not a huge influx. While it's been a little too spendy to buy all at once in the shop some years, I've recently added a more monthly-installment based patreon that I am still trying to launch to make it more tenable. but I also realize not everyone has the sort of money to support such endeavors, so I've also been trying to find ways to make work more readily available to people who might be interested in my creative output. I've spent the last couple years making electronic versions of older projects that are out of print, and with new ones, making an e-version available either before or at the same time I make the print ones available in the shop. Since these zines--more than individual poems in journals or even full-lengths is my primary output, I really do want people to read them.
So then the question becomes whether you want to make money by holding things behind a paywall or do you want to get a wide readership, and I think we all navigate these questions. I don't have an answer except maybe that lately I've been settled on poetry more as a gift economy. Whether we give the gift of our creative work, our attention, our publishing efforts. I've mentioned before ways to support your favorite poet, and sometimes they don't even involve money. Write a review, write a fan letter. Suggest a purchase at your library. Start a journal or a blog and solicit your favorite authors. Sometimes, all it takes is time and attention.
As creators, do what you need to do, but don't necessarily be bound by money. At least not in this space, where the perceived value and the stakes are embarrasingly low in a world that is obsessed with sports and pop stars and movies about superheros and not really with words at all. Least of all poems.
