Yesterday, I felt despair over publication, especially book-length (and I also include chapbooks in this category) publication. Then I remembered some do-it-yourself posts written several months ago by Reb Livingston (go to the Aug. 27, 2008 reading during this month's archive, and navigate from there; I particularly liked the cost breakdown post; she also has some interesting followup posts during September 2008), and I read them, and started daydreaming.
Instead of getting right to work on my own project, I started daydreaming about becoming a publisher. I thought of how many friends I know who might have a book-length manuscript. I started thinking about other writers, like Virginia Woolf, who created presses. I decided that a chapbook press would be much more manageable than a full-length book press.
So, I got right to work, creating a business plan and planning a contest to cover my costs, right?
Of course not (so don't send me your manuscripts!). I started thinking about what I'd name my press. I've had Christina Rossetti on the brain lately, so my first thought was Goblin Market Press. I kind of like the sound of it, but I know the poem, and I'm not sure I like the analogy for a press of my own. Would I, as the publisher, be a Goblin Merchant Man? Would I sell people something luscious, but then refuse their later offers to buy? Would writers be Laura, wasting away? Or would my customers be Laura? Hmm. No. Keep thinking.
Rossetti did volunteer work at a shelter for fallen women named Highgate. Highgate Press. I like the sound of it. It reminds me of Hogarth Press, the one founded by Virginia and Leonard Woolf. I like the visual image of a high gate. Not a high fence, but a gate.
Let me google it.
OK, there's a Highgate Press that publishes music. The more I type Highgate, the weirder it looks . . .
Highgate Poetry Press. I like it.
If you started a press, what would you name it?