Poetry Competions: A Waste of Money, or the The Price of Art?

All fields of art are subjective and at the mercy of assessment and criticism. In fact the finer the art, the keener the adjudicators of it's practise are, to overlay their intellectualism onto it's perceived qualities. The debate on what is 'good' and 'bad' art is a perennial one; it has always gone on and will of course never be resolved. The criteria also change from age to age, to say nothing of from person to person in any one particular time of art.

The idea of 'art' competitions is in itself arguably a untenable one. Can such a subjective field of human expression be truly 'judged' by ones peers and, as it is in many judgmental situations, by appointed superiors? And in the arts, who appoints these superiors? There is a fair argument to be had, that many are essentially self appointed, or emergent from an [originally self-appointed] illuminati and so what true worth does their judgment hold?

Ben Brinkburn, poet and proud grump, has recently written an interesting treatese on this issue, in particular regard to those exotic and particularly fascinatingly corrupt beasts, Poetry Competitions. It is shown below.

I Hate Poetry Experts and Competitions.

Occasionally I weaken and enter a poetry competition then as soon as the envelope has been eaten by the bored post box outside the butcher's, I immediately regret the few quid I've just squandered musing ruefully that it would have been better spent in the pub.

However I always make sure I enclose an envelope for the results; this cost of a second class stamp is the most useful expenditure of the whole exercise. When you get the results list [which with 99.9% certainty you will not be on], check some of the names on the web. Goggle them. Anybody worth their poetic salt has a web presence these days [witness my own grumpy effort] and people who are well connected enough to win poetry competitions DEFINITELY have a web presence, because it takes a certain type of self-promotionalist to win poetry competitions.

So google the winners/almost rans. You will only have to scratch the surface to find connections between them, the organisers of the competition, and by default the judges.

The world of poetry is a small, intense, thoroughly corrupted world. I like to think of it as something akin to a group of aesthetes drunk on port, cavorting around a plush club room masturbating themselves and their friends in one orgy of self-congratulation, back-scratching, score keeping and artifice.

Poetry publishers, magazine editors, competition organizers and judges are the amongst some of the most dubious of taste arbitrators and literary ‘experts’ in the field of the arts- not just literature- and that’s saying something. Smug, aloof and self-promotional to the point of hollow narcissism are terms that spring readily to mind [they even beat literary agents in the relentless application of these qualities].

Other gross offenders are Creative Writer Tutors. If ever there was truism to the notion that those who can write, write and get paid for it, and those that can’t teach it and get paid for it, having 'Creative Writing Tutor' on your passport is one of them.

The world of words is now full of Experts. There are now in fact more people 'Expert' at assessing literature than practicing it. This is no more apparent than in the literary ghetto of Poetry than elsewhere in the spectrum of wordcraft. It embraces the cliquiest, clubbiest of paramours; it encourages it's members to be self-congratulatory, self-assessing, auto-masturbatory, and practise an unerring aloof confidence in the knowledge of their inherent skill in judgment and criticism of others work- to those outside of the club that is. But once within it's hallowed confines…

...therein, you may bask in the mutual appreciation society that is poetry clubs with their attendant [fixed] competitions and the small poetry presses that are the self appointed arbitrators of taste and practise in the fair art of poetry and prose.

But ask yourself this- look at the plethora of small poetry presses, magazines and their associated [fixed] competitions here and in the US. Can they all be populated with experts? Are they all, collectively, a reliable gold standard in their assessment of what is ‘good’ [and therefore publishable] poetry?

Of course not- many of it's owners/sponsors are stuck up self-anointed aesthetes who through an inherent inferiority complex- developed no doubt from bullying in the school canteen at an early age [no Boltsin-Naipe, I’m having your jam roly-poly today!]- some are well meaning poetry buffs, a few are talented outsiders who never made it into the club for a variety of reasons [each one no doubt more interesting in the tale than any Expert Poem about concrete seagulls and/or drinking tea in Cambodia wearing straw sandals] and operate blithely- usually with half a bottle of vodka in hand- at the margins, and many more again are self-inflated egotists who always fancied setting up a magazine- the kudos, the attention- and a poetry one is the simplest and most direct way to exercise critical power over their peers.

So: very few real experts, many chancers and carefully masked, low-esteem ridden self-appointed arbitrators of taste and talent who, particularly these days, know their way around website design.

These are the people who judge your poetry entries in their dubious ‘open’ competitions at 3-5 GBP a pop. The simple process of selecting a shortlist and eventual winner[s] of most competitions is this:

The organisers trouser the fee first then look at the entrant. This is the most important part, and the primary reason for running the competition in the first place. Then look at the entrant. Is he/she a subscriber to the magazine? No, so bin it. That usually halves the pile. Then there is the scanning over of names that are recognizable [forget about this not happening even if it’s assured to be an ‘anonymous entry' judgment. The short listing assessors still get to see the real names, all is fair in love and war after all].

Then the short list gets in front of the primary judge[s]. They look at the entrants, pull out the names they recognize [particularly ones they drink/email/blog/ with, tutor, or simply ‘owe one’]. This then gets down to the hardest of assessments for the judge[s], who need to trade off favours and repayments in an equitable but primarily self-serving way.

The result: one of the poetry world’s lovey’s is invariably selected. In essence, this is 9/10 a person who a] subscribes to the magazine [if a mag contest] b] is recognizable as a member of an on-line or real life poetry group c] has been or is in the process of being tutored by one of the judges in a Creative Writing course d] has previously won a prize or e] is a new writer who is a friend/lover/relation of one of the judges or by association, one of the magazine publishing board.

The chances of getting anywhere in a poetry competition are therefore very slim. Unless you have unlimited funds and can afford subscriptions to every poetry magazine in the land, that alone should be enough to convince you to save your money, only enter poetry competitions that are free [and certainly NOT Arts Council funded magazines and projects that charge a fee- THEY SHOULD OF ALL THE COMPETITION THROWERS BE FREE] and find other ways to promote your work.

And there is nowt wrong with as much self promotion as you can manage. After all in the world of poetry expert artifice, your opinion on the value of your work is as good as anybody else’s; poetry is a pure expression of one’s inner self, it is a defining, concentrated moment of your psyche beamed down on to a page. It is YOU. if other people like it, all well and good. If so called poetry ‘experts’ tell you it is rubbish, ignore them. If you look at it and think it is accomplished, then that is all to the good. It is all you need. You’re not going to make a fortune or a career out of poetry, so what does it matter if self-appointed assessors don’t like it? Just get it out there and into print anyway you can, and see what the great world public make of it, because at the end of the day, they are the only ones that matter [after yourself.]

Rant over. I'm off out now to buy some dog food for the cat.

'Ugly Ben' Brinkburn, Shildon UK