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PLURALITY DECREE

Celina Su - Plurality Decree - MIEL 2015

Celina Su’s microseries chapbook, Plurality Decree, is now available for pre-order.  The third chapbook in our microseries, Plurality Decree contains three poems that comment on uses of space, question ideas of public and private, and insist that their readers look at what is often kept ‘sanitized’ and invisible. Su’s poems reflect the frantic multiplicity of life in a time where laws, documents, decrees, texts both official and subversive, scientific objects, maps, and the possibility of individual actions/inaction seem to overlap one another more and more.

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The microseries chapbooks are 10 cm square; covers are printed inside and out in full color by the wonderful Tompkin Press in Nottingham, UK. They’re ideal for presents and fit inside standard greeting cards. Long live the postal services of the world! Order here.

Dimensions: 10 cm square
Printing: full color
Binding: staple
Pages: 16
Edition: 100 (25 to writer)

Celina Su - Plurality Decree - MIEL 2015

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HOW ABSENCE, by Rachel Moritz

Rachel Moritz | HOW ABSENCE | April 2015 | MIEL

Rachel Moritz | HOW ABSENCE | April 2015 | MIEL

Rachel Moritz | HOW ABSENCE | April 2015 | MIELEvery time I set out with a new manuscript—heading for the precipice marked make a book—although I have the accumulated knowledge and abilities gained from the process of all the books that have come before, it feels like starting over from scratch. I have to remind myself of, or relearn, order-of-operations (where to cut first? Where to fold first?). I have to refamiliarize myself with the mathematics of Illustrator and my printer and the persnickety paper cutter. And this means trial and error, and frustration, a little panic (oh my god will this ever work?!), and, eventually, the satisfaction of seeing the book come together as I imagined.

How Absence was no different; in fact, it is an ideal case-study of this process. Everything that could go wrong in the printing process has gone wrong: printing errors and supply chain blockages, miscommunications and undelivered goods. Math errors. Misestimations. Last-minute changes.

This morning, I folded the first of the 140 covers (there are 120 + 20 marked e.a., for Rachel—édition d’artiste), and I trimmed the green endpapers and nested the textblock into them, and then these into the cover, and it was, suddenly, real. Here is How Absence, the latest book from our 2015 list. Rachel’s poems are mysterious and elegant, like dreams. The language moves through them with the sureness and care that has been a hallmark of Rachel’s writing since I first encountered it (more than ten years ago).

How Absence is also available as part of our limited-edition motherhood bundle, a collection of chapbooks which deal with motherhood, child(ren), and the interrelation of parenting and art-making. Of course, if you’d like to receive books like How Absence in your mailbox all year, you might consider one of our subscription options. Thank you for your support!

 

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three years

MIEL
When I told Laressa Dickey that I, too, was tired of her work being passed over in contests and open reading periods, and that I thought it was worth publishing, and hey, what if published it (in December 2011), I knew almost nothing about publishing. I knew almost nothing about book design. I set off, as with most things I do, backwards: first committing to making the books, and then figuring out what I needed to do to become a press.

MIEL promotional items

When I think back on the four months between telling Laressa I’d make the press that would publish her work—why not; lots of writers have done this, I said—and launching the first two of her chapbooks alongside Neele Dellschaft’s first chapbook, I remember scrambling to get ISBNs and a business address. I remember watching lots of videos on YouTube in order to figure out how InDesign worked. I remember getting the first batch of covers and it being a real lesson in measure thirty-six times, send the files to the printer once. Oops. I remember folding and binding on the red table in our workroom with Jonathan and Neele. I remember getting those tiny broadsides in the mail from Andrew Schroeder (for Josh Wallaert’s chapbook and Laressa’s third and fourth chapbooks).

it's our birthday | a MIEL books giveaway

As with lots of things I do, and for better or for worse, MIEL began as a piece of play. A game. Let’s imagine what could be, and then let’s do it. That’s a manifestation of my impatience but also of my belief that things are possible and that individual people can make objects and spaces (that we don’t have to wait for the ‘professionals’ to do it, and that we don’t have to make things that act, look, or feel the way ‘real things’ do—we can make our own, in our own way, with the terroir of our individual capabilities and experiences). The incredible thing I learned is that once you start the game, people believe it’s real. And they say yes to things like you publishing their books, even in different formats (like the postcard edition of Nancy Campbell’s How To Say I Love You in Greenlandic, which sold out within a year of publication). And then reviewers say yes to reviewing them. And people, incredibly, show up to buy them.

Lisa Solomon's HAND/MADE

Designing and publishing Lisa Solomon’s book was in many ways a turning point for MIEL. Prior to this I had used my own savings to pay for book printing (our books generally cost between €200 and €400 to print; at that time I had some work and cheap rent, and I used what was left over to print books). But Lisa’s book is full-color and bound in signatures. It was going to be impossible to publish without assistance. I applied for an Arts Council England grant (thanks, ACE!), which paid for the printing and my time designing the book. Working with Lisa on this was such a gift—her trust in my work really made me aware of the relationship between me as a book designer and editor and the writers and artists whose work I want to support. The money from the Arts Council, and Lisa’s trust—and the book itself, which is the most ‘real’ book we’ve published in design terms (it has a spine, I mean)—made me realize that MIEL could be play, but it was also and simultaneously serious.

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One constant in the press work has been the pleasure I take in all aspects of book shows and small press fairs. Everything from designing and building displays, to interacting with visitors: although it can be draining (long days, lots of people, sometimes I forget to eat enough), it is so great to get to talk to people in real time about these books, and to watch them enjoy them, pick them up, read them. As a micropress, lots of book work—like lots of writing—is isolated, quiet, uncompensated. Being in rooms with people, seeing and participating in the life of small presses and of books, is an unmitigated joy.

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When I think back now, I’m amazed at how much has happened in the past three years. (MIEL launched its first three titles on March 16, 2012). There are books now that didn’t exist then. I know how to do things (use InDesign and other parts of Adobe CS, market books, manage inventory, offer editorial guidance, work with printers) that I didn’t before. I’ve gotten to meet and correspond with so many great writers and artists, have hosted readings, have helped make connections between writers and other presses when the work wasn’t a fit for MIEL. Not trying to toot my own horn. Just kind of incredible to me how at one point there wasn’t and now, despite the ways in which I still struggle (managing the workload without getting overwhelmed) or worry (the panic of oh my god did I send the proofed version of the manuscript to the printers?!), there is. And the is includes books like Kristen Case’s Temple and Shana Youngdahl’s winter/windows and Megan Garr’s Terrane and Bethany Carlson’s Diadem Me and Jonterri Gadson’s Interruptions and Rachel Moritz’s how absence. And more are coming. (!!!! Although I tend to get bogged down in worry—will the books do justice to the texts? Will they please the writers? Where will the money come from, oh god, the money?—when I step back from my worry I realize how thrilling, really, in a physical way thrilling, it is to be able to make these books.)

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So thanks, writers and artists, for trusting me to put your writing and art into the world. And thanks, customers, for buying the books and other things, and allowing me to continue. Thanks also to my parents, who, despite my protestations, order every book (don’t do that! I will send you copies for free!). Thanks to the Arts Council, and to Writing East Midlands, and to the Small Publishers’ Fair and to Free Verse and to States of Independence, who made it possible for the books to exist and provided venues where people could encounter them in real time. Thanks to the reviewers who’ve taken time to read and think about the writing. Thanks to the people who sent work to read during the open reading periods each year. Thanks to Richard of Tompkin Press in Nottingham and Tom Jessen of Foxglove Press in Maine for working with me, producing the books, and tolerating my beginner’s mistakes. And special thanks to my friends, especially Jon, Neele, Matt W., Carol, and Laressa, who have supported me and believed in the press all along. Thanks to Jonathan who as usual made things possible (and always talks me down when I think I’m being silly to try things like this). Three years! Let’s have a few more.

111O/5!

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I am heiden/heathen

This week, Megan M. Garr, author of the recently released Terrane, offers us the story of the book’s origins.

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Terrane began with a single word, which is not itself anywhere in the poem. Heide.

Megan M. Garr - TERRANE

heide – heiden
heath – heathen

definition

A semantic judgment based on a people’s relationship to the land.

Or, more precisely, on how they choose to use that land.

Megan M. Garr - TERRANE

Terrane was drafted in the summer of 2012 in Iceland. Between trips as far into the landscape as I could dare, in a rented SUV, were long writing days overlooking the Langjökull icecap.

I had saved for a year for this, what I called my self-funded residency, having gotten to the point that to write, I needed to leave Amsterdam entirely, be out of calling distance (if only virtually) from my work, my overpriced expatriate market apartment, my duties at Versal, which ran through every hour.

Megan M. Garr - TERRANE

In high school, my best friend Jennie and I fantasized about moving to Greenland. For us – until we discovered that there was a US air force base there – Greenland was untouched land, an escape, somewhere where we could start again.

Every day, from 1993-1997, I wore a pouch around my neck. In that pouch were tokens my friends gave me, souvenirs of my adolescence: a 20-sided die, a river stone, found pennies, a screw from the bleachers, a ring, a laminated map of Greenland…

…and many other little objects, now tucked in a shoebox at my childhood home in Nashville.

Megan M. Garr - TERRANE

At the bouldering gym in Reykjavik, I met a geologist who told me, “If you get lost in Greenland, you’re going to die. If you get lost in Iceland, just stand up. Someone will see you.”

I found out later that this “stand up” business is just an old Icelandic joke. After centuries of sheep grazing and logging for fuel, there are not many trees in Iceland.

When I came upon a Spanish family in their SUV, sinking in the Þórsmörk river, all I had to do was dial 112 on my mobile and flag down help further down the valley.

Megan M. Garr - TERRANE

I can confirm a sense of safety here, among the danger.

Megan M. Garr - TERRANE

I was among the stranded of the 2010 Eyafjallajökull eruption. Eyafjallajökull: the ice cap of the mountains of the islands. A stratovolcano of lavas ranging from basalt to andesite.

There’s a story behind Terrane that I’m not ready to tell. Not in prose, at least, where everything gets named for exactly what it is.

Megan M. Garr - TERRANE

But here in 2012, here in Iceland, driving within sight of Eyafjallajökull as often as I could, here I tried to tell it, here the telling began.

Megan M. Garr - TERRANE

Long days behind the artificial landscapes of my laptop, trying to write poems.

Long drives on roads like these, fording rivers.

Inhabiting open country.

As far as possible.

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Megan M. Garr—TERRANE

Megan M Garr - TERRANE - MIEL 2015Megan M. Garr’s Terrane (28 pp., February 2015), evokes the in-between experience of migration. In collected shards of narrative and image, Garr’s long poem scatters us in space both stellar and terrestrial, reminding us from the very beginning not to forget “the radiant dust” that precedes and imbues our lives on earth. In this attempt to recognize and to name the world as a purposely unfamiliar place, Garr creates a terrain all her own—but one that is open to our traversal.

Available for pre-order here (€9 + shipping).

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Come work with us!

three-years-of-mielWe are looking for two freelance publicistsone based in the UK, one based in the US—familiar with literary publicity and marketing, for project-based work in 2015.

The people who fill both positions will be responsible for publicising and attracting interest in Dickinson House and MIEL publications in their respective countries. Strategies and goals will be discussed during interviews with individual candidates, and, upon hiring, will be decided in partnership with the editor/residency director.

These are paid, non-volunteer positions. We have a minimal budget and support the press and residency center with our own employment; as a micropress, we won’t be able to pay what we’d love to. Our budget for each publicist is €250 (total/each), to correspond to €15 per hour.

Interested? Email us (miel.books at gmail dot com) one PDF, titled with your last name, containing a two-page CV detailing your PR experience and connection to the literary community in the US or UK, as well as a brief cover letter that tells us why you’d like to work with us—and what would make us happy to work with you.

Deadline: March 5, 2015.

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Dear readers, dear writers, greetings from this side of the Year. I hope it finds you well.

MIEL has some Plans for 2015. We’ll be putting out a dozen or so books—art, poems, prose, things in between—and welcoming residents to Dickinson House (don’t forget: fellowship applications close on January 31—residency applications open until we’re booked up for the year).

Our offerings for this year will begin with a broadside by George Szirtes at the end of January and a chapbook by Megan M. Garr (editor of Versal) in February. We’ll be at AWP in Minneapolis (say hello) in April.

But first, to start the year, we’d like to offer you 50% off any books in the shop. Just use the code HAPPY2015 at checkout—it’s good until January 31 our time. This is not valid on stationery or on subscriptions, but you can use it to purchase more than one single book. The discount will apply to your entire purchase (except if it includes subscriptions or stationery—if you want to buy those, please make two separate transactions). Happy New Year!

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London! November 14-15!

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We’re so so so so so excited to bring fresh-from-the-press copies of Diadem Me and Uncle Zoltán (along with new broadsides, prints, our 2015 calendar, lots of greeting cards, and of course our other books) to the London Small Publishers’ Fair. November 14 and 15, 11-7 (but we’ll be leaving early on the Saturday; need to catch the last train back to Belgium). As usual, it’s in Conway Hall, Red Lion Square, and admission is free. We’d love to see you there.