Salt Office Life

The Recent Pathology of Poetry

Fri, 30 May 2008 12:12:40 -0700

A message to Our Readers

We are emerging from a period when published poetry has been the well-managed art of an isolated and notoriously small elite into a more expansive and deregulated market focused outwards towards its audience. Poetry (capital P) is, thank goodness, the product of its readerships and not its producers. In the recent past the art has divorced itself from greater dialogue with its audiences, and divorced itself from other cultural outputs: fiction, film and the visual arts, music and theatre (and thus much of our social experience) and the readership has largely reflected this split, shrinking in number until most events were attended only by the performer and an entourage of two (caretaker and administrator). Maybe innovation is always communal, but the renaissance in British poetry is certainly arising from poets reengaging with their communities, other art (and culture generally), and the resulting collisions of place, time and sensibility, politics and history are rewarding new readers. Poetry is sexy once again.

Poetry readings have begun to step out from the sour function rooms of dilapidated pubs and it�s not unusual to find ticketed and promoted tours in theatres near you. What is most striking is the resurgence of young people, and especially young men, now reading poetry. 70% of my own direct poetry sales are (surprisingly) to men. Whether it be genre-busting Black surrealist sci-fi mash-ups, dubstep urban neo-ranting, pop culture commentary or hirsute political invective mixed with humour and panache, there are simply scores of new voices and poetry movements emerging in England, Scotland and Wales.

However, the explosion of new poetry has left the critical community with a problem. First, the discontinuity of new talent with the traditional management of the old has left a critical vacuum. Who is capable of reviewing and making sense of this explosion of talent and the new audiences paying for it all? Poetry is a world defined by the paucity of its resources, and much effort has admittedly gone into constraining reception and not broadening it. Most people spend time keeping poets out, not letting them in. The new under-40s audiences are adrift from the industry�s usual forms of consumer control. Deregulation is creating new space and new boundaries for practice and consumption. Second, the sheer momentum of changing readerships and taste is creating an expansion of practices (schools perhaps) each synchronously but separately flourishing, though few young critics have emerged from within each community; we need a new generation of critics and new spaces on the Web to make sense of the art in this century. Third, a great deal of the new talent is emerging as a result of two new forces, the growth of and investment in creative writing industries (both academic and publicly funded NGOs) and the growth of the Web as a tool for organizing events, collaboration, exchange, publicity and marketing.

Despite a diminished presence in bookstores and depleted interest in the book trade, poetry readerships have, like some rebel alliance, regrouped in the vast ocean of the World Wide Web. I say this with some trepidation as the Web also provides an unparalleled torrent of bad verse for readers, spewing out from the burgeoning ranks of amateurs and the seemingly endless zombie hordes of poetry's unread. However, serious writers have found this new medium truly liberating, and when used effectively (for which read virally) it has led in part to an explosion of new readerships.

Social networking, high quality performances and tours, Webzines, bulletin boards, listservs, online publishers and publishers online, readers and writers and what can feel like an entire culture management industry, are increasingly converging through the Web and these changing circumstances offer the canny publisher and bookseller new opportunities to develop and extend markets and, of course, to sell books. So what is needed now? To make the reader central to the art.

I'd like you to take away from this blog two simple messages. Firstly, poetry belongs to you, not to the poet or the critic or merely the privileged and overeducated, not teachers or academics or editors, and there is someone out there writing for you right now, in ways which will extend your life and what it means and it's not dull drudgery, nor is it the literary equivalent of navel fluff. It may bite, delight and provoke you. It may excite you or console you, confirm your views or collapse them. By reading more of the stuff you'll find more poetry heads your way, into your neighbourhood, into your life and your mind. It will increase you.

Secondly, writers need to know what readers want and where their lives are at. If you can't find stuff that speaks to you then shout out wherever you can, get the full range of choices, there are thousands of new writers. I think you deserve the best from your poets and if the stuff you've discovered isn't working for you, don�t be managed or misled. The world of poetry is now as large and fragmented as the independent music scene so don't be cheated out of any life enhancements you are due, make sure you get all your slices of pie and cake. Why choose anything less?

Chris Hamilton-Emery is a Director of Salt Publishing, winner of the Nielsen Innovation of the Year Award in the IPA Award 2008 for developing poetry sales. His latest books are Poets in View (Salt), Radio Nostalgia (Arc Publications) and 101 Ways to Make Poems Sell (Salt).

tags: poetry, publishing, pathology

This is Why Salt Needs its own Office

Thu, 17 Apr 2008 12:22:59 -0700

tags: salt, office

Office move now likely

Fri, 7 Mar 2008 06:05:22 -0800

After eight years of running Salt from our home, it looks likely that we�ll be moving the office out of the house and into the next village, Fulbourn. Here's a glimpse of Salt�s potential head office with room for ten members of staff, and the dog. We'd take over the top floor suite of the pink house. Four large rooms, kitchen, toilet and a shower room. Seems perfect, just the paperwork to sort.

Salt Head Office

tags: Salt Head Office

Boxing Clever

Sun, 24 Feb 2008 04:50:27 -0800

Following several bouts of illness in the Salt House, plus school half-term holidays, I'm pleased to announce that we are now back to normal full steam ahead mode. Lots of book news (see the Confidential blog for full details) and some wonderful but embargoed prize news (damn it! - keeping quiet kills me), which I'll have to fill you in on later. But meanwhile, I can tell you that we have brought some lovely new books into the world, which anyone visiting Chez Salt could tell you. In fact, yesterday son 1, Callum, had a game of football (the Wilbraham Warriors have yet to win a match, but they're all still dead keen and turn up -- and yesterday they did actually score a goal) and was brought home by one of the dads who hadn't been here before. He stepped into the hall with a look of, well, I'll say it was astonishment, though it could have been something less positive, when he saw our box-lined walls. I had to explain that we published books and had just taken delivery of new titles. I counted them and there are currently 59 boxes of books piled high - and it isn't a big hall! And that's after I sent out over 40 boxes last week. Toddler Cameron has worked out that they can be climbed on, which is a rather worrying development, but at least they help over up his scribbles!

However, I digress. Without further ado, let me tell you briefly about our LOVELY NEW BOOKS. Two collections of short stories, one by Vanessa Gebbie, Words From a Glass Bubble; the second by Scottish-based Linda Cracknell, The Searching Glance. I have loved working on these books and with these authors and feel privileged to know every story inside and out. As well as them, we've published two collections of poetry from Australian poets Tim Thorne, I Con and Without an Alibi by Philip Neilsen, both of which we've published in hardback - the first of our Australian titles to be available in this format.

Also, we have managed to pull together to final-proof stage a book that we've been working on for around two years now. It started off as a collection of short stories about women with psychosis who commit terrible crimes, but they started to inter-relate and the final story ties them together, so now it's a novel, a genre we don't usually publish, but we're absolutely thrilled to on this occasion. It's Sister Morphine by Catherine Eisner. Here is a pic of the front of the jacket:

When I sent that to Catherine, she said this: "A scarlet dress is dangerous and its effect can sometimes be unpredictable," which led me to think about having to get something to wear for the Independent Publishing Awards dinner/awards ceremony in two weeks' time. Last year I wore a black dress that possibly looked okay, but felt absolutely STUPID in - it just wasn't me and I felt really uncomfortable all evening (though losing might not have helped, I must admit). So, I reckon that this year I might just go for a scarlet dress - an element of danger and unpredictability could just spice things up a bit!

I have therefore two weeks to *groan, here I go again* lose weight. Fortunately, the ground has now started to dry out and yesterday I was able to go for a "run". I use that word loosely - my staggering and wheezing around half of my normal course was more of a limp than a run. Worse still was my making use of the clever heart rate monitor I got for my Christmas. This confirmed that I am rather on the unfit side, thanks to my months of sloth over the wet winter (one can't run in mud or wellies).

These are my measurements *yawn, I know - skip this bit, I won't mind*:

Duration of exercise: 45 minutes
average heart beats per minute: 151 (I should be within the range of 126 - 144)
Time in proper fitness zone: 15 mins
Max heart rate: 199

How bad is that! It's amazing I didn't kill myself out there! I was running into the wind, but there were no hills, so all in all, pretty bad. But, hey, I can only get fitter! Time to lay off the biscuits and booze for a couple of weeks, I suppose, and perhaps invest in this for my next venture out:

Enjoy the rest of your weekends, everyone!

Salt Authors on the Record No 2

Wed, 6 Feb 2008 10:56:18 -0800

I had a really lovely day yesterday - got lots of work done, received some great news about one of our short story books that I'm not allowed to mention until the 13th Feb - TORTURE! How I'll keep it quiet, I don't know! Plus, it was Pancake Day - one of the best dates on the UK calender, and not even a Public Holiday.

So, continuing my stories-behind-the-authors-on-the-record theme, I thought it most appropriate to tell my tale about the time I spent with poet Tobias Hill. I will pause here to let you click on this link so you can have a quick look at him. It is important that you do that so you know where I'm coming from - all will be clear, bear with me!

It was on a summer's evening that I met Tobias at a train station in London. We walked to the end of the platform and shot the video. It was very windy and the sun was bright and low, so problems of a technical nature presented themselves, such as the lens cap banging into the tripod and making a noise, the wind whistling into the microphone, Tobias getting the sun in his eyes ... But, hey, we're pros, we coped!

We had deliberately timed our meeting to coincide with the low tide and after we shot the vid, we went down to the banks of the Thames to record some podcasts of Tobias reading from his book. We settled on a spot just across from Tate Modern, by the Millennium Bridge. And there we sat, with the sun setting over the water, guillemots and gulls around us, on the banks of the Thames - my own private poetry reading with Tobias Hill.

*Sigh* What a tough job, but someone's gotta do it!

Podcasts and video are on the link above. I couldn't work out how to plant them here, what a dunce.

tags: tobias hill

Authors on the Record No 1

Mon, 4 Feb 2008 11:29:36 -0800

I think I must have one of the most interesting jobs in the world. Working with authors and books is, obviously, the best. Plus, running our own business adds an extra dimension, though not always one that is welcomed as it involves doing stuff like book keeping. And one of the most interesting parts of my job is making videos of authors for the Salt website.

I thought I'd tell you some of the stories behind the videos, starting today with Manchester's very own Neil Campbell, author of short story collection, Broken Doll.

One cold morning, 6.30am, I left home and made my way into Cambridge to catch the train to Manchester, arriving at 11.30 and rather worse for wear owing to the fact that all the time I was on the train NO coffee was on sale, and I hadn't had time for any before I left the house. This is BAD! Neil met me at the station and I was pleased to hear that he had worked out what he was going to say in his video. He had 30 seconds to talk about his book, to give something interesting that people wouldn't otherwise know from reading the blurbs or the website.

And Neil had even planned where we were to film it - this isn't always easy, especially in a city - they are noisy places. So, 11.45am I find myself hanging outside a pub, waiting for it to open - believe me, it was a long time since I'd done that! At noon prompt we were allowed in and I ordered drinks from the bar, while Neil settled himself down and reminded himself of his script.

As I was standing at the bar, I realised that I had been in that pub before. I used to live in Manchester and a crowd of us from work used to go there every Friday when they had a blind man singing. Somewhat stupidly, as it turns out, I asked the barman: 'Did a blind man used to sing in here every Friday?'

Barman wearing a puzzled expression: 'Do you know when that would have been?'

Me: *gulp as the penny drops* 'Er, about 17 years ago'

Silence. The barman shuffles and looks uncomfortable. Then he looks at me and I KNOW he's thinking how ANCIENT I must be. I look closely at him and reaslise that he's about 18.

Me: 'So, em how much do I owe you, then?'

Somewhat relieved, I join Neil in the snug, set the camera up and say: 'GO!' This is what happened next:

Longer than 30 seconds and he wouldn't do it again, shame on him - authors, eh!

tags: Neil Campbell, Broken Doll

"Show Me The Money!"

Sat, 12 Jan 2008 03:54:02 -0800

Yesterday we were off-line for almost the whole day to inclement weather. It rained and for some reason, often when it rains we lose our internet connection. I can't work this out, but right now the sun is shining and I'm back in the virtual world without having to get wires changed. The trials of country living, sigh.

I am pleased to announce that we have another robotic member of the household in the form of a piggy bank. Kirsty bought it with money she got for Christmas. It's pretty cool - you tell it how much you want to save up, then every time you put money into it, it tells you how much you've put in, what the total amount is that it's hoarding and how much more you need to shout 'Bingo!' (I must say, it's amazing how quickly Kirsty reaches her target, considering that we hardly ever remember to give her pocket money -shame on us, I know). It's got a motion sensor, so every time you walk past it, it nags you for cash - this is rather freaky in the middle of the night, I must say!

The weird thing is, I SWEAR I know who did the voice recordings for it: one of our authors, the lovely and talented Susan Shultz. Follow that link and you can watch a vid of Susan talking about her book. Substitute her words for 'You have almost reached your target -- GIMME MORE MONEY, NOW!' and you know exactly what the robot piggy bank sounds like! The stranger thing is that a few years ago Susan stayed with us for a few days and I took photos of her, one of which is in Kirsty's room on her shelves, so now it's feeling like she's moved in with us!

Have a great weekend, everyone!

tags: robot,, Susan Shultz

Something for the Weekend

Sat, 12 Jan 2008 02:11:17 -0800

Since it's Saturday, we have a bit of a mish-mash blog for you, picking up on some of the things that have happened over the last few days that might be of some interest to you over the weekend when you've got a few minutes to spare.

First of all, some kitchen sink porn, oh yes, you get it all here! Here's a link to a video that will make you drool and then inspire you. I'll say no more - have a watch when you've got a minute or two to indulge yourself: Click here for video - don't miss it!

Many congratulations to Salt author Angela Readman who had a poem from her book 'Strip' discussed in The Times by Frieda Hughes (daughter of Ted Hughes & Sylvia Plath and accomplished author in her own right). You can read about it here on the Salt Confidential blog. This appeared on the 31st December - a wonderful way to end the year, Angela!

One of the books we're publishing this Spring is 'The Most Serene Republic: Love Stories from Cities', and its author, John Saul, has been interviewed by Cadaverine Magazine; you can read it here. John's previous Salt book, 'Call It Tender' was reviewed in The Times in the Summer.

Salt author Anita Heiss has got together an Australian tour running during the course of 2008, ending in Paris, France - find out where and when she's appearing and make a date, full details are here.

And, just to keep you going, I'm delighted to tell you that the third edition of The Short Review has just been launched, edited by Salt author Tania Hershman. This is a great resource for anyone interested in reading or writing short story collections - dig around and enjoy!

Happy weekend, everyone!

Tis the Season to be Jolly!

Sun, 23 Dec 2007 08:16:40 -0800

With best wishes for the Season and a FAB 2008 to y'all!

Callum, Disco Dan (on Callum's knee), Jen, Chris, Cameron, Kirsty, Nibbles and Muriel.

xoxoxo

tags: Christmas

Sleepless Nights

Fri, 7 Dec 2007 10:17:17 -0800

sleepless

What is it exactly about business and babies? They both lead to sleepless nights and I'm now in my third or is it fourth week without a full night, largely due to Cameron � no baby now, as he's in those terrible twos. Or rather, to be honest, I've had two full nights in the past month, and when I got them, I felt worse! At least I can catch up with the rest of the world's insomniacs on Facebook.

But trying to run the business while Cameron does his head banging act each night is beginning to feel a bit tricky. Speaking of which, we asked a paediatrician about Cameron banging his head, and I mean, in his sleep, smacking his head into the bedroom wall like he's keeping time with the latest German Techno. We've padded the bed, so he climbs up the padding. We lifted the bed into the middle of the room, so he started using the headboard. We padded that, so he gets up, lies on the floor, and head butts the carpet, or the door, or skirting boards. The paediatrician said it's normal, and to put a hat on him. Have you ever tried putting a hat on to a screaming two year old at 3.00 a.m.?

Now this is the crux of it, publishing is a little like head banging. You need tenacity, persistence, rhythm and repetition in order to sell books, and making it happen is like doing twelve rounds with Ricky Hatton. Maybe, just maybe, Cameron is preparing himself for a lifetime in publishing. All I can promise him is that the ensuing concussion softens the impact of the roller coaster ride which the book trade also provides.

Now add to this nightly drum machine, the impact of older siblings at school. That breeding place of germs and disease, all specially equipped with the best delivery system know to mankind, the child. Jen and I were busy feeling numb but upright when news came of a stomach bug in the village. Working from home can protect you from airborne and office borne biological attacks, our only risk stems from month old tins of beans in the fridge, or stepping in dog puke hidden beneath a decaying stained towel "Is this clean, Hon?" But no, a few days in school and suddenly the sleepless nights are further refreshed by the pitch black dash to the loo for the pair of us. That dash is a risky business, stepping over years of washing, a month of Sunday papers, submissions, direct mail, packaging and, momentously the other night, inflated bubble bags which exploded beneath the feet, just as the feet were sent their separate ways.

What are the worst things to step on in the dark of 3.00 a.m.? Let's see ... Pizza. Marbles. Ice cold, three day old, discarded Huggies, full ones. Anything which immediately shoots up between the toes or lightly spatters on your cheeks ("Is that fromage frais or semolina?"). Staples. Mice. And creatures out of Polly Pockets � those little sharp ones, placed just on the narrowest point of the upstairs landing, next to the piles of books, leaving you swinging your arms for anything to regain your balance whilst holding a bleeding foot, but sadly only finding that bunch of wet towels left to dry on the banister.

Perhaps home business is all about that desperate world of 3.00 a.m. � it'll be no time at all before the kids are ringing us at that hour, to incoherently explain that they've lost their keys whilst clubbing and are stood naked and plastered in the garden. Thank heavens for bedroom laptops and YouTube and Star Wars DVDs. Insomniacs unite.

tags: head banging babies