BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,
BTRIPP
btripp

I keep forgetting to post these ...

Oh, yeah. End of last month, <== this came out.

I guess I don't think to promote my poetry much because it's been my experience that there is no (zip, nil, nada) market for it. That lesson was learned in the first few months of Eschaton's existence back in 1993 ... I'd put out a new volume (this one), and paid for a goodly amount of ad space (primarily classified ads in magazines that I thought might be productive), with a "readership" of over a million pairs of eyeballs. The results? After six months I had sold one copy (and that was to a guy in Alaska who had seen it in Soldier of Fortune, of all things!). One. Given that Eschaton was initially conceived to be a vehicle for "getting my poetry out to the masses", this was a very disheartening turn of events, setting me up to "pivot" it (after attending the Parliament of the World's Religions that fall, and meeting a lot of folks with interesting manuscripts sitting around) into the "metaphysical press" it would become.

Into The Dark was the first of the "second phase" of my publishing. I'd put out a half-dozen chapbooks before it (which I am now, somewhat desperately, attempting to unearth to get new versions - or one book with all of them in it - done ... at this point I've only been able to find a copy of one of those), and this was somewhat pivotal, straddling the onset of my sobriety. The poems involved were all from my latter drinking days ('81-'85), but the book itself came out after I'd been sober a couple of years, in 1987. This means there was a fairly sizable gap between it and its most recent predecessor, which had come out in 1981.

This also represented my "getting serious" about the poetry ... a physical representation of which was the very fancy cover of the original chapbook, which had a textured cardstock cover with a hot-foil-stamped graphic. My girlfriend from college's father ran a printing operation up in Milwaukee, and he volunteered to do these for me (only later grumbling about the cost) ... and they still look very cool. Needless to say, I did not try to replicate the silver imprint on the new version, going with a grey-on-black as you see in the pic.

This now completes the re-issuing of the six chapbooks that I did between quitting drinking and the end of Eschaton (Mark I), which are all now available as perfect-bound paperbacks and Kindle ebooks.

I was just reading something yesterday that made me think that there should be a market for my poems ... it was in a piece called "The Sesame Street Strategy" (in that they've been able to stay on the air for 40 years because every year there's a new crop of 5-year-olds to watch it), which suggested if you get into a self-replicating market, you can ride it forever. I suspect that my poetry would have a whole lot of simpatico with morose, moody, teenagers (of the sort who "have never drawn a happy breath"), and if I can become a "standby" for the type (not to compare myself to Goethe, but in the ballpark of his The Sorrows of Young Werther, and similar "woe is me" classics), my poetry would sell and sell and sell and sell. I don't care if I become a cliché or a punchline. I just wish I could figure out how to make that happen ...


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