Poet and cat lover, David D. Horowitz hatched the idea of creating an anthology of cat poems he would call Purr and Yowl: An Anthology of Poetry About Cats.

Putting together any book of poems, whether one of one’s own or one with many contributors, is a recognition that what is most personal is also universal, that sharing common experiences of our natural, material, emotional, and spiritual lives is a call to community. This drives poets to celebrate their niche audience despite its seemingly small community compared to the community of novel and nonfiction readers. But without poetry how would we know how we transform our small observations into deep truths? I don’t know a poet who hasn’t believed in the power of poetry to do that.

As a poet and Rose Ally Press’ publisher, David has a lot of experience conceiving and publishing poetry. I believe he knew the challenges in manifesting his anthology idea. So, I asked him to write an article about his Purr and Yowl anthology publishing experience. He sent back an interview of himself by himself as a way to process his accomplishment. You will notice the first question leads to his acknowledgment of joy at selling the book. His work as a publisher is a work of love for poets and poetry and for helping expand its audience because the more people who are moved or inspired by a poem, the larger the niche becomes and the more cohesive we become as people and individuals.

David starts with a question about sales. That made me smile.

***

How were sales of Purr and Yowl at the Seattle Cat Festival this weekend?

You mean the Seattle POP Cats Festival? Great! I sold twenty-five copies in just eleven hours.

Wonderful. And, by the way, I’ve written some cat poems recently. Next time you edit a cat poetry anthology or any anthology, maybe you could take some of them. Are you editing an anthology next year?

I appreciate your good wishes. It’ll be years, though, before I edit or publish another anthology. Purr and Yowl is about 230 pages long and took almost two years of consistent work. Producing a good poetry anthology entails many stages, many steps.

Like what?

Let’s start with soliciting and selecting poems. During late summer of 2022, I developed a list of about eighty-five poets I hoped would submit work for the anthology. Concurrently, I composed a precisely worded email message to send to each of them. I strove to anticipate questions they might have, such as how many poems each could submit (up to nine), how many complimentary copies each would receive (one), and the deadline (December 31, 2022) for emailed or paper submissions. By accepting up to nine poems, I maximized each poet’s odds of submitting at least one poem I could accept, and yet I made clear the deadline was firm.

Did you fear you might offend some of your poet friends?

Yes, so I scrupulously composed, edited, and re-edited my initial email announcement soliciting submissions. I consulted the book’s publisher, Lana Hechtman Ayers, for feedback on my wording about the sort of material sought, submission format, the maximum number of poems, due date, payment in copies, email addresses, and other details. I also made sure not to guarantee acceptance. There’s no better way to alienate poet friends than to imply an invitation guarantees publication, and then not to accept any poems. I kept the message to one page: compact yet comprehensive. I let the draft version sit for a few weeks and then returned to it, adding a few details, rephrasing a few passages, boldfacing or italicizing in places where I thought emphasis would bolster clarity.

Finally, in early autumn 2022, I emailed my message to about eighty-five poets whose work I wanted to consider, and during the next few weeks, I sent the message to about a dozen more poets. I also sent a copy to Lana, who liked it. I explained to her and to the poets I would happily consider all sorts of poetry, including formal verse, and that while domestic cats would be the focus, I would include poems about big cats—lions, tigers, snow leopards, and cougars, among others. We would have a distinctive anthology, which I confidently and publicly called Purr and Yowl: An Anthology of Poetry About Cats. I had a distinctive and relevant book title, appealing subject matter, and credible submission policies. Lana and her company World Enough Writers were fully behind the project, and I was delighted with our progress thus far. We were rolling, and submissions were rolling in, including a few from poets not initially contacted but whose friends had told them about the anthology.

I received submissions from about forty of the poets I’d contacted. In my Word anthology file, I carefully listed how each poet responded, and I began deciding which poems I would accept and which I would reject. During this period, I frequently consulted Lana. I wanted assurance she approved of how the project was progressing. We have been friends for decades. Indeed, it was Lana, who at a poetry festival book fair in 2016, first suggested I edit an anthology for her. We shared a passion for cats and agreed they would be a perfect subject for a new anthology. We were both busy with other projects, so I delayed working on it. Finally, in late 2021 I sent her an email message saying I was ready to begin. By late summer 2022, I began work in earnest. And, finally, in November 2022, the anthology began taking real shape.

Lana’s experience as a publisher and writer contributed mightily to the project. She urged me to solicit and consider additional work via the submissions tracker Submittable. I completely agreed, so over the course of several weeks, we composed acceptance and rejection response messages and set up and promoted the anthology’s Submittable link. Glitches occurred occasionally, and I had to learn how best to use Submittable as an editor, but within a month various issues were resolved, and I began receiving submissions via Submittable. I had set February 28, 2023, as the submission deadline via Submittable, and Lana was fine with that. We received Submittable submissions from 220 poets. Some of the work was quite good, and some outright excellent. I was feeling more and more enthusiastic!

Lana had entrusted me with full editorial power, and I intended to use that power wisely and fairly. By late autumn 2022, and into winter of 2023, I selected poems for inclusion in the anthology. I began putting them in deliberate order, establishing a fluent poem-to-poem progression. Balance, a bit of surprise, diverse tone and subject, judicious placement of poems about the big cats: these were primary concerns. Invariably I noticed typos, weak phrases in otherwise strong poems, questionable line breaks, and other issues the editor—namely, me—would need to address. Also, I began reading the author bios, which experience had long taught me would require careful research and judicious editing and revision, especially as Lana limited bios to no more than fifty words.

As I suspected, close to half of the bios needed significant revision. Authors often rely on personal memory and dated information when composing bios, and that leads to imprecision and error. Many of the bios exceeded the fifty-word limit and needed to be trimmed. Many contained misspellings and punctuation errors. As I feared, book and journal titles were often wrong, albeit slightly. Some dates were off by a year or two or more. In the same bio an author might inconsistently use, or not use, the serial comma. Journal titles that should have been italicized sometimes were not, and a few that shouldn’t have been italicized were. The keys here were research, precision, and patience. I did not scold or berate anyone. I researched and proofread each bio, and then I emailed to each poet my suggestions and recommendations. Virtually every poet was open to considering changes. Many thanked me for catching errors and saving them embarrassment. I was impressed by their maturity and gratitude.

Let me note: I believe editing poems requires at least ten careful readings of every poem, so…

Did you say ten readings?!

Yes. A responsible editor needs to understand each poem’s tone and nuances, deciding whether poetic license allows for unconventional grammar or whether writing is simply sloppy and requires correction. Tact is necessary here, as poets are sensitive to superficial critics misunderstanding their purpose. I tread very carefully, often posing changes in the form of suggestions rather than corrections. Again, the process proceeded smoothly, and many poets expressed gratitude for my precision and patience. That was a relief, and sometimes a pleasure. Step by step, we were on our way!

Now, I began considering the final order of the poems, and Lana and I consulted one another about front cover art, internal page fonts and typestyles, the appearance of the contents page and front matter, and the spine and back cover. We also meticulously read and reread text we both knew likely contained errors: epigraphs, contents pages, previous publication credits, and the positioning of blank pages. Mistakes lurk everywhere!

Both Lana and I worked to find the best images to use. Lana’s friend Deborah DeWit is an excellent painter, and we decided to use one of Deborah’s paintings for the front cover. I spent many hours searching for images to use inside the book, and Lana offered some inspired suggestions as well. Lana’s book designer, Tonya Namura, was typesetting all the material, and by October 2023 Lana was able to email me an attachment with a near-final draft. Hooray! After last-minute proofreading that yielded a few changes, the book was uploaded to IngramSpark and published on November 10th, in time for the holiday shopping season.

And sales have been good?

Yes, although after the first few launch readings—such as the December 15th reading at Chris Jarmick’s excellent store, BookTree Kirkland—sales have come in spurts. It takes intense, dogged commitment to sell a book. Never assume book sales will come easily. It’s tough, hard work, and the competition is extremely intense. I accrued some great sales stories, though. For example, I visited a cat shelter and adoption service near Chris’s store. I offered the staff there a flyer I’d designed and printed to promote our launch reading. This sparked some staff interest in the book, copies of which I had with me. The center’s manager liked the book so much that she bought a copy right there! She handed me a twenty-dollar bill, and I gave her a freshly autographed mint copy of Purr and Yowl! Those feel-good stories stay with me, too. Books are companions, and they help people connect with one another. Hooray for books! And I’m still selling Purr and Yowl. When it comes to selling poetry books, I have three mantras: 1) five to ten years minimum—not five to ten months—to promote a book; 2) publicity, not advertising (which typically costs a fortune); and 3) positive personal contact, not just social media, blogs, and email. In other words, real in-person, look-someone-in-the-eye contact.

That’s a lot to absorb. I’m so glad you took your time to produce such a fine anthology. And no worries about my work. I better understand it takes a long time and much work to produce and promote a credible anthology. If you do something like this again, I’d be glad to submit work, but I’m not expecting and demanding acceptance.

Thanks for understanding. Editing an anthology is a great experience—but, yes, it’s a lot of work, and sales rarely come easily. Again, though: it’s worth doing!

***

I want to thank David for the description of his process in creating Purr and Yowl. I suggest that any of you cat lovers or friends and family of cat lovers, order copies of Purr and Yowl for them. It is a delight to read the way the included poets have captured not only the physical presence of cats but of course, our relationships to cats and how we see ourselves in their actions. If you get a chance to read the anthology’s poems or have thoughts or questions for David, leave a comment at this article’s end.