Earlier this year, one of the country’s most-lauded poetry magazines announced on Twitter it was in trouble. Having been a stalwart of the scene for a decade, Butcher’s Dog was facing a cash shortfall that threatened to close it.
Editor Jo Clement shared the news “with a heavy heart” and appealed to the poetry community for help. “People rallied round and, in just five days, we were able to sell enough magazines to cover print costs for our next two issues,” says the Newcastle-based writer and academic. “It was a huge relief to make up the gaping deficit.”
Its new lease of life was widely welcomed – not least because a number of popular titles had recently decided to call it a day, including Ambit, the Moth and South Bank Poetry.
“Since Brexit, the industry has been increasingly volatile,” says Clement. “Add in a global pandemic, the cost of living crisis and relentless London-centric thinking to this mix and we’ve been fighting to balance the books and keep our head above water.”
There’s really no such thing as a viable business model when it comes to poetry magazines, according to Naush Sabah, editor of Poetry Birmingham Literary Journal (PBLJ).
“Commercially, it simply doesn’t stack up,” she says. “Most survive and subsist largely either on unpaid labour or grant funding.”
Launching PBLJ in 2019 with a group of friends as a part-time creative writing MA student was a “passion project” for Sabah. The aim was a magazine that had some of the region’s character – serious but straightforward, while also combative but fun. “We didn’t have any money to put into it, but we invested time and love for poetry as an art form.”
After she graduated, however, the equation changed. Determined to keep the title going, she secured grant funding from Arts Council England in 2021 and 2022, but her application for 2023 was unsuccessful, making the future less certain for this much-praised magazine.
“Grant funding is so precarious and it can be extremely time-consuming and bureaucratic to apply for. While individual titles may come and go, magazines will always be a part of the DNA of poetry publishing. Those that stick around often do so because of the commitment of individual editors.”
The notion of it being a labour of love is one that chimes with Jeremy Page, editor of The Frogmore Papers, which is celebrating its 40th anniversary this year.
“There are times when I’ve been ridiculously overburdened, but we haven’t missed a single issue and I guess that’s just down to dogged determination.”
Page’s approach comprises publishing books (which can make a loss), running an annual poetry prize (which generates just about enough money to subsidise that loss), and producing the magazine (which covers its costs through subscription revenues). “I dread to think what they’d make of it on Dragons’ Den, but it’s worked for us,” he says.
Magazines offer early-career authors the possibility of a shop window. “It may not sound like much of a possibility, given the ratio of submissions to acceptances, but top-quality magazines such as the Poetry Review, Agenda and Under the Radar have published many writers for the first time who have gone on to become big names.”
Selling poetry remains “astonishingly difficult” with a lot of magazines folding after a few issues, he says. “I’ve been heartened, however, to see newish titles such as Fenland Poetry Journal and Finished Creatures looking promising. Recently, there have been some exciting online-only launches, too.”
Bath Magg, Bad Lilies and Propel are among the relatively new web-based journals getting plaudits – and Propel editor Anthony Anaxagorou says shifts in technology and consumer attitudes are reshaping the sector.
“The culture of consuming literature through a digital device has become more accepted. The digital word offers greater access, with greater reach and immediacy, but at a lower cost,” he says.
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Some of these new titles focus on particular themes or target particular kinds of contributors or readers – Propel, for example, is a platform for those yet to publish a full collection.
Anaxagorou has also seen more diversity among writers, readers and editors. “Nowadays, editors seem to be broader in what their cultural palette can accommodate, which expands the appeal of a magazine or journal and works to include voices which have historically been kept out of the proverbial ‘big house’.”
According to Michael Schmidt, editor of one of the country’s most-respected titles, PN Review (PNR), magazines are most valuable to the literary and cultural landscape when they are contrary, offering a critical as well as a creative purchase on the subject.
“My sense is that some editors today are running shy of critical engagement and reviews, though. Magazines work best when they bring resources past and present into play – rediscovery as well as discovery, plus translation as well as anglophone writing.”
Celebrating its 50th anniversary this year, PNR has been a must-read for thousands and acted as a “dragnet” finding talent for Schmidt’s book publishing operation, Carcanet. But at times it’s been tough. With subscriptions hard to win and advertising elusive, the long-term backing of Arts Council England has been vital. “We are in a period of change – and sadly survival will be as good as it gets for many,” he says.
Despite all these challenges, new arrivals appear every year, with recent launches such as the Friday Poem and the Alchemy Spoon joining established and much-admired titles such as the Dark Horse, the North and Poetry Wales.
Back in Newcastle at Butcher’s Dog HQ, Clement is thrilled that the title can keep rolling off the presses. A vibrant magazine scene is vital in tough times, with people frequently telling her how poetry offers comfort, humour and company during personal, health or financial crises.
“We’ve emerged from an impossibly hard winter where folks have had to choose between heating or eating, so I totally get that literary magazines simply aren’t a priority for many. But poetry can be a transformative power in people’s life.
“Our team works for free and we’ve put thousands of unpaid hours into this canny little magazine. There’s now life in us for at least another year.”
