curation vs gatekeeping


This past week, I have been making the last of a few decisions on chapbooks for next year's dgp series publishing schedule.  I am actually pretty much caught up as we come into fall, which is usually not the case, meaning there won't be quite as long a wait to actually see these new books come into the world. In fact, at least a couple before the year's end to fill in some gaps since I took substantially less books the last reading period as my freelance work filled up (largely to help pay for the wedding). Since September, I have lightened a little up on as the summer ended with a little more time to devote to poetry things..2-4 days instead of just 1-2 if I continue to work over weekends. This means more books on the way, more shop offerings in terms of paper and art, and a couple anthology projects I would love to pull together next year.  It will also mean some other writing endeavors and some workshop contents I am working on making available very soon. Also, a little more time to take on one-on-one consultations and design work for other authors. 

As I've been reading submissions this week, I also watched this YouTube discussion of books in the social media sphere, and the distinction between gatekeeping and curation, which I have long held in opposing hands when thinking about editing. There are things that are standard across the publishing world, presses or journals of any size like layouts and promo and proofing.  But there is also the task of acquiring work and manuscripts, of getting things actually sent for you to choose from. We usually hover in the 400-500 range for submissions that come in over three months. This is manageable for me (well more or less depending on the year. Last year, I was accepting books months and months later because September through January was a bear in terms of freelance writing--good for money, bad for creative endeavors.) 

I have always thought of my job as a collector, a curator, a more than a gatekeeper or some definitive arbiter of literary taste. Not everything I get excited about excites others. I am often drawn to the strangest projects. The ones that surprise me, perhaps not even with their best technique or form, but more with their audacity and innovation.  The way they show me something I have not seen before. I love darker and more gothic work of course, but also things which play with other texts and forms and hybridity. Projects that might seem to bit off more than they can chew. Voices that are unique or unheard.

I am lucky in that an amazing number of submissions come into my inbox every summer, of which at least half are completely publishable, Of them, depending on the year, I will take somewhere around 10 percent. I also solicit work from past authors on occasion. This seems like a lot when you consider the selectiveness of some chapbook series and lit journals with tiny acceptance rates, but I am usually a bigger boat type thinker. I think back to 2005, the first year I was open to manuscripts and got less than 10.  Two decades later, it is an embarrassment of riches. If this were my full time job or we were operating at a greater profit and could afford help, I would definitely want to publish more. I may still if the economy can hold in all this ridiculousness. 

I've often encountered editors online who talk about publishing the best or strongest work. The books that make it all look deceptively easy. Obviously, I am going to like manuscripts that are strong, but I also like books that take risks. That maybe aren't perfect but are nonetheless interesting and ambitions. That fit with the  styles I tend to want to publish. That said, it really comes down to what I like and what I choose to place my efforts behind. I love that authors will send me a book and say it just seemed right for the press. Those tend to be the books I love most... 

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