Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Don't Squeeze My Apple, Buster (Cider Press Review)

Kate (a faithful LROD non-mouse) sent this insane rejection story link to poet Stacey Lynn Brown's blog, Ten Fingers Typing. It's a complex rejection about a publication and literary prize being revoked. It involves Cider Press Review, and even has a follow-up story.  But allow me to summarize.
The story in short from Stacey's side:
1) 19 rejection
2) acceptance on 20 -- wins cider press review contest ($1000) and gets her poetry book published
3) press is a mess
4) typos and arguments about even the basics and hack up winning manuscript
5) editor butchers blurbs
6) poet says no
7) punishment: no author photo
8) how about reducing the ad?
9) publisher revokes prize and demands money back: "not fulfilling contractual obligations"
10) poet gets lawyer for $1200.00 (bye-bye prize money) and wins prize money and book rights (you go, grrl!)
11) signs no gag order (obviously)
12) winning poet and her winning book are erased from press's website, and runner-up is instated as new winner...which apparently this happened last year too (oy!)

The public response from Robert Wynne of Cider Press Review:
1) poet was too demanding, unreasonable, "even abusive" (my, my, my!).
2) we are good editors
3) poet is now bitter and out to get us
4) some people like us
5) yeah, we're pretty great, in fact
6) onward!


E. said...

Ugh. And... what?

If I pay for a Hawaiian shirt and decide to return it this afternoon, I don't have the right to keep the damn thing and wear it to the luau tonight.

Heh. Luau.

I support small presses, but really. Stacey is so far beyond this rinkydink publisher. It's hard to even congratulate her for sticking to her guns; it's obvious (and I've read all sides' accounts) she's the one who was treated most crappily. And even if she weren't the modicum of decorum, what do the publishers expect? They're dealing with artists, for Christ's sake.

One word of advice for CPR: plastics.

E. said...

Modicum. Used improperly. Epitome is what I was going for. I blame the nerve pills.