So to my absolute surprise and pleasure, the epic Copper Canyon Press announced they’d be opening
submissions for exactly 1,000 poets on a first come, first served basis.
The moment I read that?
Church bells, baby.
I’d been lurking their website for weeks like a devoted ex-girlfriend, paranoid I’d miss the portal to Olympus.
And then *divine timing* I finish What Lies Beyond Me, and Copper Canyon announces the window:
May 1st, 2025, 9 AM Pacific Time.
Which is 6 PM Munich time.
I marked it like it was my wedding date.
To-Do List:
- Calendar reminder: 6 PM, May 1st — check
- Author bio — check
- Query letter — check
- Manuscript sample — ready to haunt souls
- Submission guidelines — studied like a biology exam, memorized like my grandmother’s perfume
I couldn’t miss this.
I wouldn’t miss this.
—
I plan my day with military precision:
Car rented. Cameras packed. Cleo kissed gently on the nose.
My mother and I take off to find some peace in nature before the big moment.
What was meant to be a 45-minute scenic drive becomes two hours of slow, escalating madness with not
a single parking spot in sight.
I briefly considered parking the car in the lake.
Eventually, I find a spot, eat a Bratwurst Semmel mit Senf, have a moment of soulful conversation in the sun,
take a few photos, and try to breathe like a human being.
But peace is short-lived.
—
We drive back toward Munich with just enough time to prepare and submit—
or so I thought.
Because the universe heard I planned to submit my work to“Copper Canyon” and said:
“Yes—but first, let me cook.”
—
Traffic turned apocalyptic.
The highway into Munich? Closed. Fully blocked.
GPS laughed in my face.
Time was melting away. I was fully spiraling in the car—hands sweaty, heart pounding, teeth clenched like
I was driving through a warzone but also trying to keep it together.
I kept trying to find a place to stop for a bit. Just a patch of earth where I could pull over, catch my breath,
and beat the clock.
Nothing but an endless line of silver cars and bikers in sight.
—
Sigh.
“I guess it’s just not meant to be, mom.” I said and shrugged.
“Don’t lose hope quite yet.” She said with her unwavering optimism and sweet delusion.
“Well, I am trying but it’s kinda hard. I’d need a miracle.” I said casually while stomping on the gas pedal,
then the brake, then the gas again.
—
Then, two minutes before 6 PM,
a dirt road appeared.
Like some backwoods portal from a fairytale gone feral—“Hansel und Gretel” comes to mind.
I said:
“Fuck it. I’m pulling over. I don’t care if I ever make it to Munich again.”
I whipped into that dirt road like a possessed GTA NPC, parked the car in pure adrenaline. I look down at my
Phone and I actually had a data connection again—I almost cried from relief. I immediately pulled up
Submittable, submitted the damn manuscript from the middle of nowhere, exhaled —
and drove back like nothing happened.
And yes, I laughed at myself the entire rest of the way home because I am fully aware of how extra I am…
but I’d be damned not to give it my best shot.
So yeah, submit or die.
—
Later that evening, I called my father to tell him. He was proud.
And then he said,
“You never stop, do you?”
Oh, if he’d seen my face in that moment.
No, dad.
I never stop.
Because stopping?
That would be spiritual, creative and mental death.
And I’ve already died once—
I’m not doing it again.
Disclaimer: No cameras or manuscripts were harmed during this.
Proceed at your own risk.
