February 18


If You Want to Win a Poetry Contest

In her previous post for this blog, Deborah Bogen explained how, before she had written a novel and published it with Amazon Direct, she had been a multi-contest-winning poet. After that post went up, Deborah mentioned to me that she would be happy to explain how to approach poetry contests “like a business.”

Obviously, I was excited to hear about this, and so I asked her for another post.

Here is her system for researching, entering, and winning contests. It is sobering stuff: steady your faint heart now. But it does provide aspiring poets with a method for getting their work into books.

If you find her advice useful, visit her blog, and take a look at her new novel, The Witch of  Leper Cove, and maybe even buy it on Kindle.

If You Want to Win a Poetry Contest

Deborah Bogen

Disclaimer – this is from my experience – I did not do a study.  But here’s what I learned and how I won three book contests.

Let’s assume you read a lot of poetry. A lot. You buy books, a few more than you can actually afford. You review books of poems because you understand that’s one of the best ways to learn how to write well, because you love a particular book, because you are a good literary citizen. You’ve been making word art for what’s starting to feel like a long time (if you have not been writing for a long time stop reading this now and go write some more.)  Somehow you have accumulated (created, given birth to?) eighty or so poems that seem worthwhile to you. You’ve sent them to journals and many of them have been published.  Every now and again someone asks “Hey, how’s your manuscript going?” You mumble and wonder if you have a “manuscript.”

If this is you, welcome to the “how do I get a book?” world.  Whether you need or want a book is a serious question but that’s another topic. Today you have a clutch of poems that seem to want to hang out together. There’s some sort of conversation going on and you decide to put together the manuscript.  How and when you should do that is another serious question – again for another day. Today we will assume you have a manuscript and that it is pretty darn good.

You may have an avenue to publication that does not involve winning anything. If so, it’s a good idea to take it. Your friend has started a press. Your second cousin’s friend has started a press. A lady you met in line at the supermarket is starting a press. They are looking for manuscripts so you have an edge. Send them yours. But if, like many of us, you are not so connected you are probably facing the contest situation.  So how do you navigate those waters?

These are some things I found to be true over 10 years of poetry contest experience. I wish they were friendlier facts but leaving you in the dark is really no favor. Here goes.

To win a contest a lot of stars have to line up – at least for most of us.  You need to have a good manuscript that really is a manuscript and not a bunch of good poems. You have to get the right first readers, the right second readers and the right judge for your manuscript. That’s a lot of things that have to go your way –  how do you optimize your chances.

First thing you do is split yourself right down the middle. Half of you can be the poet who loves her manuscript, the one who has labored long to create art from language.  She’s important so don’t stop being her. But you must also become her investment advisor, her record keeper and her menial slave.  Yes, her slave, and I mean a pretty much fulltime slave during the contest winning phase of a bringing your book to the world.

This part of you needs to do a lot of work. She needs to identify many contests that are ones you might win. That takes reading – more reading. You need to know your presses because presses have personalities and preferences. If you’re smart you can figure out what they are.  You need to make lists of presses (with contests) who put out books that seem like they might be good shelf-mates for yours. If you’re fifty, stay away from contests where the winners are all young “about-to-be- the-next-big-thing” poets. If you do not write “almost erotic” work don’t go for a press with all red dresses and spike heels on their covers. If you have not had a lot of prestigious publications don’t go for a press that publishes a high number of poets whose work has been in the top ten literary mags in America.  That will still leave a lot of presses and a lot of prizes which is a good thing.  Important – don’t undervalue the smaller contests.

The first mistake I made was sending out my “full-length” collection about two years before it was ready. I had all these poems. It seemed like it should be a manuscript.  I let myself off the “high standards” hook by thinking “well, it’s a first book so it can be more a collection of various poems.”  I entered contests and lost. But each time I took another look at the manuscript and improved it. I became more daring and more conservative at the same time, adding and winnowing.  It took three years for me to win with “Landscape with Silos” and by the time I did it was not the same book I’d started submitting three years earlier. Think of the money and grief I could have saved myself if I’d had the discipline and courage to work-work-work until the thing was truly ready.

So you have to take your apprenticeship seriously.  You can avoid my mistake and work on your manuscript till it is more than the sum of its parts. Until it becomes gorgeously articulate. You can spend your energy doing that instead researching contest rules and writing hefty checks. And when people ask you how your manuscript is coming along you can smile mysteriously and say “mmmmmmmmmmmm, not yet.”  Try that – it really gets people interested in your work.

But when it is ready, when it is an intriguing satisfying literary thing, then you can start sending it to contests and here is where some important stuff comes in. Check your bank account. I hope you have saved the money you did not waste by sending work out too soon because you’re about to spend it.

This is an estimate, but you will probably need to enter at least thirty contests – maybe more – to get your book published.  If you enter only ten contests (spending $250) you’re probably sending that money into the great literary contest void.  There really are a lot of good manuscripts out there.  Keep in mind the many things that have to go right for you to win. You have to increase your odds of that going your way and you have to do it by a bunch.

I know, I know – you know someone who sent her first manuscript out to one prestigious contest and it won. She got a lot of money and lots of press and short-lived literary fame. I read about her too (and tried not to hate her, really) but she’s the exception that proves the rule. Talk to people. Unless you have a heavy-weight poetry professor, family friend or lover who can make a call on your behalf – if you are, like many of us, just one of the pack, you must control your odds. You have to wait till your book is really, really good, and then bet the bank on it all in one year.

So how do I know this? I learned from my first mistake.  The next time I worked on my manuscript  I really worked on my Manuscript, not on a group of related poems. I wanted an intricately woven work of literary art ( it’s “Let Me Open You a Swan” – you may disagree with my assessment.)  I built it as a book. I put it together, I took it a part, I worked with a terrific poet friend who was good enough to tell me to get rid of some of my darlings.  I listened like crazy, not to any particular poem but to a book that was not yet in existence. I spent a lot of time on it and one day I thought I had it. I had it! That night I had a dream in which a wonderful poet showed up at my door and handed me a tiny folded up piece of paper. In the dream when I unfolded that  paper it had been cut up into lots of pieces, and the poet said “Let me open you a swan.”

I woke up swearing. Damn! I thought I had it. But not yet. I had to start again. I went back to the book and took it apart again and rebuilt it. I got comments. I tweaked it. Then I sent it out to as many contests as I could find and six weeks later I got the call. It had won the Antivenom Prize (so named because the only cure for the poisonous process of poetry contest entering is to win one) at Elixir Press.   I was happy, but I was also aware that I had to write off the money I’d spent on the other contests (they won’t give it back even though you must write each one withdrawing your manuscript.)

You might say I wasted that money, those checks for the other contests, and that I wasted all the time it took me to enter those contests – but I needed to up my odds.  I needed the right first readers, the right second readers and the right judge. I just did not know where I’d find them.

There’s a lot more to say about this, about record keeping (do tons,) about being polite (always, even to jerks,) about forgiving yourself when you do send the book out too soon (part of the process perhaps,) about how to decide how much of your bank account you can spend on this venture. I was able to foot the bill and I often skipped things I might otherwise have spent money on in order to justify the checks I was writing to presses (and we had to pay lots of postage back then.)  You might think I spent too much but do take seriously that if you send to only a couple contests a year you are most likely wasting the fee money.  Sometimes one MFA student reading your manuscript can knock you out of the running.

Are you depressed? Don’t be. If this scenario disgusts you (and if so, good for you, I say) or just makes you crazy, think of alternatives. Get together with a group of your friend-poets and create a publishing commune. In the digital age, books can be produced cheaply on demand through Smashwords or Createspace.  I really do appreciate the literary presses who put out my work and the judges whose finding did give me a sense that I was not totally out of place in the poetry world, but that was then.

Today really is a new time. And if you are at all convinced by what I’ve written here consider becoming a revolutionary and sanctioning your own work, your fellows’ work. Think about anointing each other as artists and helping each other shoulder any financial burdens instead depleting your bank account.  Think about bringing your books to life with your own hands.

These are the days of miracles and wonders and they’re not all bad.

And look for me to be there with you. I’ve sworn off contests.  I recently wrote a novel and was so discouraged by the legacy publishing world’s chokehold on the market that I published it myself. I had to give up the prestige of having an agent and a house, but in the indie-publishing world I have found a sense of excitement and fun that I have not seen for a long while. People help each other – all the time. We know we’ve gone off the reservation into a world where we have no Great Power to say we are “real writers” and no one to blame if our work falls short. We are taking it straight to the readers to see what they have to say. Poets can easily do the same.

But if you do decide to stay on the contest course – read this over one more time. It’s poker, baby – you have to wait for the right hand, then bet big.


deborah bogen, mfa1, writing contests

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  • Daniel – thanks for the shout out for my new book – right now it’s still up at Amazon as The Wych of Lepyr Cove – with a moody blue cover. The newer version (with the cover you have here) is being revamped to normalize spellings (The Witch of Leper Cove) so whoever buys the current version will soon own a collectors item. I’m still learning…..Deborah

    • Do you mind that I used the new cover? I thought I would be forward looking 🙂

  • Hi Deborah,

    Here’s my question for you: I feel torn because, on the one hand, the accepted system of getting published seems absurdly complex, biased in peculiar ways, and incredibly draining for the writer.

    And yet, as you point out in the post, your first manuscript really wasn’t ready when you thought it was. Only by failing to publish were you forced to go back to the desk, revise and rethink, and make it as good as it could be.

    In the new world of Amazon, where does that force come from? What stops the writer deciding, “It’s done. Publish it!”

    Is the idea that writers just publish first, then learn from readers, rather than from gatekeepers, and learn in the process of publishing one thing and then the next, rather than prior to the experience of publishing?

    • Daniel –

      Your question is a serious one and if I’m reading it right the thing you’re saying is that you view the contest process as a safeguard for quality – you want to look to the judges and presses to make sure you don’t publish your work prematurely. Is that right? And – that I was saved from doing that by entering contests.

      If that’s so I wish I had used the time, energy and money I put into the contest process to get together with poets here in Pittsburgh to see if we could provide that kind of feedback for each other. I was new in town here back then and not so connected. Now i have people in town I can go to for that kind of help.(Pittsburgh’s a great city for writers – tons here and they are good.)

      Can you imagine a scenario where you got together with friend-poets you admire and you all read each other to see if you could prevent really premature publication? Do you have teachers you trust for that kind of feedback? Have you connected with poets around the country (world!) who can read your work before you publish? Those are all avenues to keep you to a high standard. And do you publish in journals that you think are good judges of quality work? These are options.

      The main thing I think poets starting out now are faced with is that there are so many competitors. Ask contest presses how many entries they get? When I won with Silos I think they only had 600 entries. That’s nothing by today’s standards and really – if you have a good MS it’s not hard to get close to the top even in a crowded field, Lots of us finaled often before we won. But usually there is only one publication prize.

      But I digress – I don’t think you should use the contest process to keep you from publishing too soon. I do think the Real Problem is cutting the umbilical chord to the sense of blessing we feel when we are chosen by the established poetry world. And that’s a problem. I don’t negate that – it’s hard to be an artist – sometimes people smile in that funny way – like it’s a joke. “Sure, you’re a poet.” Emotionally it matters to be gathered in. So it’s hard to give up that official blessing and it may not be the right thing for everyone. That’s why I wrote about how to manage contests. Who knows. If I wasn’t so old and cranky maybe I would have hung on longer trying to get an agent/publisher for Witch.

  • Peregrine says:

    Exactly what is a manuscript? I though it was anything sent to a publisher, however, this article inferrs that it is something different.

  • Peregrine – it is indeed something different than “anything sent to a publisher” but the hour grows late for the aged. Maybe we should write at length about that another day. Deborah

  • Peregrine says:

    What is the name of your book of poetry?

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