Where Everyone Knows Your Pen Name

Yesterday, Bob-the-Mailman stopped by, as he usually does on slow afternoons. He took a seat in an empty swivel chair, picked up a spare copy of The Writer's Chronicle from another editor's desk, and promptly asked me how my life was going as a professional poet.

At first, I was a little taken-aback by that title. Professional poet? Is he talking to me?

But I guess when you're paid to read poetry all day, and known to be writing poetry when you're not reading it, that could make you--me--a professional poet.

Granted, I'm still wearing my grad student hat in addition to my duties at The Greensboro Review, but my paycheck is attached to this editorial job. And then it dawned on me: A job for reading poetry!? How lucky!

Moreover, how cool is it that my mailman is interested in my career as a poet, so much so as to casually ask me about it? I don't think my parents even understand what I do. But Bob--well, Bob's keeping me in check.

In an article that appears this week over at the online magazine The Millions, Greensboro Review Editor Jim Clark describes the writing community that has supported and surrounded this literary journal for 40-some-odd years:

There’s people out there who sit on their porches and talk about books, and drink together, and peck away in their rooms.

Indeed, we live in a place where writers are part of the community, and where, as journalist Bill Morris puts it in his article:

There’s a sense here that if your writing is not always avidly read by your neighbors, at least its making is regarded with genuine respect by them.

That's neighbors like Bob, people whom I'm certainly thankful to be around. And what better place to send your poetry for publication than where poets are welcome?

You can read more about Greensboro's literary community in Morris's The Millions article here.

And poets, when you're looking for places to send your work, remember how friendly things are down here. Our next submissions deadline is February 15.