Dear Salt reader.

I arrived in Melbourne four months ago. At that time I was confidently looking forward to meeting a lot of Salt writers, and discovering how poetry in Australia was evolving.

Now I have only two weeks left. I feel that my task hasn’t quite taken off.

Unfortunately, the week [...]]]>

Dear Salt reader.

I arrived in Melbourne four months ago. At that time I was confidently looking forward to meeting a lot of Salt writers, and discovering how poetry in Australia was evolving.

Now I have only two weeks left. I feel that my task hasn’t quite taken off.

Unfortunately, the week that I decided to begin my blogging adventures, Salt hit a financial brick wall. I found myself bombarded with questions from writers – ‘what’s going to happen to Salt?’ I had no answers for them.

I felt that I was in no position (10,500 miles away) to advise on the happenings back at Salt HQ. Some authors were worried about their current publication date, others just concerned to see such a successful team in jeopardy. Meanwhile, Chris and Jen were facing the real possibility of losing the business.

The week that the Just One Book campaign was launched, I visited Collected Works bookshop in Melbourne. Salt sales were up, and the authors I met had all purchased at least one title in support. I managed to take away from my meetings with these authors a few interesting insights into the Melbourne poetry scene.

But these meetings were filled with a sense of foreboding. With such a prolific independent publisher as Salt in danger of collapsing, what future was there for everyone else? What future was there for new poetry altogether?

I ended that week disheartened. I am a poet, and to be considering a bleak future for the art was not something I had expected during my time here. I stopped arranging meetings with other writers, and instead started to consider what poetry meant to me.

With news filtering through from England that the Just One Book campaign was fast becoming a huge success, I began to realise what the poetry market was all about.

Chris and Jen’s remarkable idea to turn Salt’s plight into an online viral campaign was inspired. Sales exploded and I don’t think anyone back at the office was expecting the onslaught of orders to be dispatched.

But it was the reaction of Salt’s authors, reviewers and committed readers that led to the success of the campaign. It revealed to me that these people were Salt’s market. For an indie press to survive, it needed the continued support of poets, academics, critics and committed poetry readers.

I was left with one question: Is this market sustainable enough to support new poetry in the future?

The rest of my time in Melbourne has been spent trying to answer this question. I believe that poetry needs to evolve in order to reach new audiences. Making poetry more accessible through the use of multimedia, visual and audio arts and the internet is vital. And in Melbourne I have seen examples of this.

I leave this city, once again inspired that poetry has new ground to break, new readers to engage. The future of innovative independent publishers like Salt is secure, so long as they support new ideas with the same confidence that Chris and Jen have shown in saving their business.

Lee Smith

I’m sitting on the steps of Federation Square, flicking through the pages of my notebook. Dark clouds lower upon me and the rain begins. The sizeable scattering of tourists and students dwindles as they attempt to escape the downpour.

I spot a man walking into the Time Out cafe. He has a [...]]]>

I’m sitting on the steps of Federation Square, flicking through the pages of my notebook. Dark clouds lower upon me and the rain begins. The sizeable scattering of tourists and students dwindles as they attempt to escape the downpour.

I spot a man walking into the Time Out cafe. He has a walking stick and white beard. I recognise him from this photograph. I canter through the increasing rain and enter the cafe just behind him. He turns and I introduce myself.

‘Nice to meet you Lee. Judith will be along shortly.’ I shake Tom’s hand and we sit at a table. He is married to poet Judith Rodriguez, who has kindly agreed to come along and share her thoughts. Since suffering a stroke, Tom has been left with speech difficulties. He tells me it’s frustrating to not be able to read his poetry aloud.

Before Judith arrives, we discuss Salt’s financial difficulties. He asks me if Andrew Taylor’s book is still due for June. I tell him that I don’t know, and that it’s been difficult to contact the office when everyone’s so busy. He tells me that he has given John Kinsella a manuscript, but seems unhopeful of a release date before 2011.

Judith pushes her small shopping trolley through the doorway. She sits down and struggles to catch the waiter’s attention. ‘Can I have a long black please?’ She is very keen to inform me of the many opportunities Melbourne offers for the poetry lover. The National Poetry Centre, the three separate writers’ festivals and a whole array of readings. ‘As long as we have your email address, we’ll keep you well informed.’

I’m glad of their hospitality. They appear to know a great number of poets in Melbourne, and every name I mention is accompanied by a ‘yes, we’ve got their book somewhere at home’ from Tom. But when it comes to British poets, a different story emerges.

I reel off a number of Salt authors – Tobias Hill, Luke Kennard amongst a few. ‘I’ll have a look out for those names’ is Judith’s response. It seems that UK poets tend not to travel as far as Australia. And the same goes for Australian poets in the UK. I wonder if that relationship could be improved.

We talk about Andrew Motion. Judith wants to see ‘Duffy’ (Carol Ann) come to Australia, and is looking forward to her take on a William and Kate wedding. This somehow leads us on to education.

I admit that I would like to see more contemporary British poetry taught in schools. Judith asks me if any of our texts appear on curriculums. I don’t think so. But I would like to see them on one.

Tom and Judith order some cake, and encourage me to ‘have a nibble’. They’re both extremely charming, and again I am bombarded with useful information. I’m not quite sure what to do with it all.

After an intriguing hour of conversation, I leave them both and step out into the rain. My thoughts are swimming in coffee, and I just want to get home to contemplate the day.

Hopefully I will hear good news from Salt HQ this week, and I can start laying down my ideas in a positive direction.

Back in the Fulbourn office, everyone has been busy dispatching orders and doing their best to save the business. I feel a little guilty being so far away, unable to get my hands dirty with packaging and taking [...]]]> What do you say to an author when you’re not quite sure what’s going on?

Back in the Fulbourn office, everyone has been busy dispatching orders and doing their best to save the business. I feel a little guilty being so far away, unable to get my hands dirty with packaging and taking calls.

It seems my author meetings have fallen at a rather awkward time. I want to feel more prepared to answer the inevitable questions – will Salt survive? Is this book still being published? What about my manuscript?………I calm myself into believing that not even Chris or Jen know the answers to these questions. Well, not at least until they have chance to recover from the onslaught of new orders generated by the Buy One Book campaign.

I go into the day thinking of ways to bat away these awkward questions. Nothing comes to mind, so I decide to be honest, and tell people that I haven’t had chance to get in touch with the office, and I know very little about Salt’s immediate plans.

I have an interview with Tom Shapcott at 3.30pm. I’m sitting at the laptop doing some research on ‘one of Australia’s most important poets’, when my phone rings. It’s Michael Farrell. He wants to know if I’m free this afternoon. We agree to meet at Collected Works at 1.30. It’s now 12.50 so I stop my research and walk to the train station. (I wanted to see Kris Hemensley at Collected Works this week anyway, so this is a chance to cross both off the list.)

I’ve not had time to research Michael’s work. I’ve read the sample of Ode Ode on the Salt website, but feel unprepared and in a hurry. The train takes forever, and I arrive at the bookstore five minutes late.

Michael and Kris are talking at the counter. Michael’s just bought a Salt book – his contribution to the campaign. I introduce myself to both of them, tell Kris I will talk with him another time, and head off along Swanston Street with Michael.

It’s a warm day and we sit outside a cafe. I tell him my plans for Melbourne. It seems a little strange to say I’m researching the Melbourne poetry market, when back home Salt is struggling to pull through the year.

But Michael tells me Salt has made a big impact in Australia. ‘When Salt first appeared over here, it was greatly needed.’

We agree that Salt’s confidence in publishing lesser-known poets has prompted a number of small presses in Australia to do the same thing. He writes me a list of publishers to research – some I’ve heard of, others I haven’t.

I ask him about poetry readings, and he says he doesn’t like to perform at public events. He invites me to a private reading he attends. Michael comes across as a reserved man, a little bewildered at the popularity of spoken-word sessions.

We speak for about an hour. In that time, Michael tells me he thinks poetry books could be cheaper, but it’s hard for indie presses to discount and survive. He has an idea that authors should be obliged to buy a significant number of their books to take to readings. An incentive for self promotion, and something that would relieve all parties the last-minute stress of mailing copies to readings.

It’s been a successful meeting. I’ve a lot to take away from what Michael has told me. I want to write things down and unload my brain. But I’ve got Tom to meet in 30 mins. A few scribbles, but the rest will have to wait.

It’s 1pm when the phone rings. ‘Hi it’s David here, how you going?’ I tell him I’m well, and explain what I’m doing in Melbourne. We talk about Salt’s financial troubles, and he seems a little surprised at how bad it is. I tell him we hope to pull through, and that some [...]]]>

It’s 1pm when the phone rings. ‘Hi it’s David here, how you going?’ I tell him I’m well, and explain what I’m doing in Melbourne. We talk about Salt’s financial troubles, and he seems a little surprised at how bad it is. I tell him we hope to pull through, and that some new ideas in the pipeline should help.

David tells me that he’s interested in multimedia poetry – accompanying printed text with audio and video recordings. His Salt page has a few examples of his Blister Pack recordings – check them out.

We discuss Salt’s creative approach to selling poetry, and he tells me that he thinks we do a great job in reaching new audiences. We talk about the possibility of recording some of our Melbourne-based Salt poets for the website. This is something that I’d like to look into.

David admits that living and working in Geelong (a coastal town about 70km west of Melbourne) means he doesn’t get to see as many Melbourne readings as he would like. Plus with a four month old baby, he has his hands full at home.

David tells me that it’s great to have a Salt representative in Australia. Email communication sometimes isn’t the most effective means of contacting us, and to be able to speak to someone in person is a great help. I tell him that I will report our conversation back to Salt HQ and throw around a few ideas.

Hopefully good things will come of this.

In other news, I have a meeting planned with Tom Shapcott on Monday, and expect to speak to Kris Hemensley from the Collected Works Bookshop too.

It’s a quiet Tuesday evening. A man walks out of the noodle bar, cars drift past, and the remaining city workers arrive home late once more. In the upstairs room of a south Melbourne bar a small, black lectern waits nervously. Red walls and sporadic seating [...]]]>

It’s a quiet Tuesday evening. A man walks out of the noodle bar, cars drift past, and the remaining city workers arrive home late once more. In the upstairs room of a south Melbourne bar a small, black lectern waits nervously. Red walls and sporadic seating emerge as the lights flick on. It’s 8pm, and The Spinning Room awakens.

An assortment of Melbourne’s brightest poets converge on ET’s Hotel. An evening of free lyrical luxury awaits them. They stock up on house red and run through last-minute lines. First up is the open-mic.

MC Anthony O’Sullivan hosts an hour of superb two-minute readings. It reassures me that I’m in good company. Josephine Rowe tries out a new poem. Regular faces, returning travellers and first appearances follow. It’s amazing to see such a variety of new poetry. From the surreal to the witty. Michael Reynolds captures my attention:

A poet in the back bar
Packs the front bar

I even get chance to read a couple of my own poems. (Find out more). Geoff Lemon is the feature poet tonight. Unfortunately I’m unable to stay to see him, but I’m sure his performance is as awesome as ever.

Melbourne hosts a number of regular poetry gigs. The city is thriving with poetic talent, and is a great place for Salt to show what we have to offer.

The Spinning Room is held every Tuesday evening, 8pm at ET’s Hotel, High St, Prahran.

All photographs provided gratefully with permission by Michael Reynolds.

I’m Lee. I’ve been working at Salt for a while now. But the Fulbourn office has finally got the better of me.

Rainy tea-drinking mornings, Chris and Jen’s excessive coffee-making demands, and a less-than-dependable wireless connection forced me to consider extending the Salt empire to a more exotic location.

I’m in Melbourne for [...]]]>

I’m Lee. I’ve been working at Salt for a while now. But the Fulbourn office has finally got the better of me.

Rainy tea-drinking mornings, Chris and Jen’s excessive coffee-making demands, and a less-than-dependable wireless connection forced me to consider extending the Salt empire to a more exotic location.

I’m in Melbourne for the next four months. But rather than spending my days discovering laneways and landmarks, I’ve decided to get to know some of Salt’s Australian authors.

Over the following weeks I’ll be chatting with poets, going to readings and festivals, and generally finding out what our Australian writers have been up to.

I’ll update the Office Life blog every week or so. Expect to find videos, interviews and updates from myself and the good people of Melbourne.

Until next time.