In which I speak briefly about Tupelo Press.

 Tupelo Press is a Massachusetts based independent publisher especially focused on works of poetry, literary fiction and creative non-fiction by new authors. They launched as a press in 1999, released five books in 2001, and have only grown since then: they do events and readings all over the US (New York, Wisconsin, Missouri and Massachusetts, of course) and claims to have “established itself as the new standard among independent literary presses.” While the truth of that statement is mostly subjective, there are lots of things about Tupelo Press to love – first and foremost is that all of their printed books are available for purchase right through their website. That's one of the advantages of independent presses: the middle man, distributers like Amazon or Barnes&Noble, are cut out and leave the writer more free to interact at all levels with readers.

In addition to the books they have been putting out for some time, they now offer an online literary journal: a treat for someone who might not want to read an entire book of poems by one person. Literary journals offer necessary variety and new talent, so it's good to know that Tupelo is using the online medium to it's biggest advantage: although there's no news yet as to whether or not the literary journals will be available in print.

I have two books from Tupelo Press, both of them poetry collections from Jen Militello. On the website, Tupelo describes their books – down to the paper and feel of it in a persons hands – as sensual. Despite the dramatic wording, to my literal self it's mostly true. Flinch of Song has pages smooth as 800-grit sandpaper and a matte cover. It feels more like I'm clutching a very oddly formed hand, rather than a book.

I would probably never submit to Tupelo, as their preferred type of submission leans towards more literary intent than my own writing, but I enjoyed exploring their myriad of authors and moreso, the expectations they have for submitters. It's good to hold a high standard, but it's relieving to see their expectations and publications aren't nearly as intimidating as Tin House or The Paris Review.