I thought at first I was getting fewer submissions this time round. I was managing to open the envelopes, read and write back. I was managing quite well.
But then I went away for four days and in that time another twenty or so arrived, and some more electronically.
I am still sitting with a large pile, so I haven't time for bloggery or comment on the world of Po.
Eventually I may have some thoughts about sentences, especially those poems were the poet decides to run a long sentence over three or four stanzas, or even extend from beginning to end of the poem. It's a lovely thing when it works. Mainly it doesn't.
And description. I might have something to say about description and how too much of it can be a killer.
But I might not.
I think I've had far more submissions from women than men this time round but I haven't actually counted yet. I wonder whether my no-holds-barred feedback is more crushing for men than women. Or perhaps I'm gender stereotyping already.
I was going to put in a picture of a closed window but didn't get around to finding my camera. So here is a picture of me taken through a window (you'll have to take my word for that) by Gerry Cambridge. It was in a Costa cafe in Glasgow, and the manuscript in front of me is Charlotte Gann's Noir, of which more very soon.
