That is the unofficial motto for my small press (called PressPress) and this is a piece on why I started it and how I’m going about it and what the hell I think I’m doing wasting my time on other people’s work when I should be doing my own.

There is no point trying to pretend that poetry is not what people are interested in. Most people, at some time in their lives, have written a poem or two (usually more) -- something you can’t say of novels, or tv scripts or even cartoons. It’s a universal thing, like music. We’re not quite clear on why we do it but it seems to be one of things human creatures do. So I’m not going to defend poetry. It needs no defence.

What is curious though, is that we don’t like to spend a lot of money, indeed any money, on it. Which leaves those who write poetry with a passion and therefore let it take over their lives, in a pretty sore state.

I go into schools to do poetry workshops/readings. Everyone’s very keen on poetry in schools. It’s part of the curriculum in my state (though less than it used to be) and teenagers still write it (and SMS each other small poems -- usually doggerel, often obscene) and some teachers still love it. During the course of question time someone always asks how much money I make (and I think, “If I was making a lot of money, would I be here?”) but I say, “Put up your hand if you’ve bought a music CD or a book of poems this year.” A forest of hands goes up. “Keep your hand up if you bought poetry.” A forest falls. There are a few stragglers left. Then I say (being an Australian poet), “Keep your hand up if the book of poetry you bought was by a living Australian poet.” Ah, clear felled. Almost always. Then I say to them: “What was the question again?”

Poets are such smartarses.

So why, knowing this is just a reflection of the larger society, would anyone start a new press?

Because wherever a poet is, is the centre of the universe and a point of insight and more or less a celebration. And I want to know about it and I want others to know about it.

And... poetry publishing is in a bad state and, as far as I can figure, has usually been in a poor state. So to hang around waiting for someone to fix it seems futile -- even if my small press is as small as small as it’s possible to be.

These are the things I didn’t like:

• Good poets weren’t being published because conventional publishers couldn’t make enough money to make it worthwhile. I have strong views on who I think is a good poet and who is not.
  
  
• Conventional publishers wanted to publish and market poetry pretty much the way they publish and market everything else and often knew nothing or very little about poetry.

• Poets are the ones who tend to sell their books -- at readings usually.
  
  
• Technology is very accessible, i.e., the means of production are available to most.

• Print-on-demand (more or less… very short runs, easily repeated) was a viable option.
  
  
• Distribution via bookshops was not (because they take 40% to 60% of the recommended retail price and because there is always trouble with getting books in, keeping them in, and collecting returns which are usually spoilt).

1. Be on line (for orders and sample poems, essays, reviews, etc.)
   
   
2. Be on demand (more or less, very small runs, anyway) -- and therefore able to be individual. Remain flexible.
   
   
3. Have high percentage royalties to the poet.
   
   
4. Create books that are inexpensive to produce and to buy.
   
   
5. Keep overheads as low as possible so that chapbooks could break even as soon as possible.
   
   
6. Print the best poetry available... and, in addition,
   
   
7. Be good looking within budgetary constraints.

Why? Probably because it’s very hands-on, intensive, and personal and because it is not bookshop or prize oriented. And because most people would prefer to stand around waiting for the man with the big cigar to hand them the gift of a publishing contract without ever having to move from the sofa.

That’s an attractive illusion, I admit. But when there’s everyone else strutting around setting the world alight with their bombs and their political rhetoric, obsfucation and plain lies, it’s time for poetry.

Chris Mansell

Chris Mansell is an Australian poet who has been widely published in Australia and elsewhere. She has a number of books to her name, and a newly issued audio+text CD called The Fickle Brat (Interactive Press, 2002). She served as Australian correspondent for the About Poetry Museletter & is the founder of PressPress. You can see her online in the Australian Society of Authors' Web of Poets.