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The Lighthouse
First Published in 1996
November, 2006
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Where’ve We Been?
Inkfeather’s Lighthouse first appeared on the Web in early 1997 as a presentation of short stories, and poetry. It was the outgrowth of Ink-links, a web page that offered general feature articles and editorials selections for sale to editors who needed fillers.
Although most of the short articles were written by Inkfeather, a small group of friends and fellow writers began to present their work there as well. This was the beginning of The Lighthouse.
Published weekly, The Lighthouse expanded, and as the publication gained readership, it also attracted the attention of talented writers and poets who were seeking a space to present their work.
Even with the great “stresser” – time - or should I more properly say – lack of it, trying to beat the deadline every week, I decided to again expand, separating the poetry into a new publication The Echo, a group of poet’s chapbooks updated at least twice monthly.
Ironically, an increase in interest was not a good thing.
Trying to read, edit, and post the pages of work would have been a full time job. But I had to realize I had commitments in “real life” as well.
Eventually, stress and time proved not to be the biggest problem in putting out the Web publications.
AOL began harassing me about sending out newsletters and notifications of new issues being posted to the web.
There was no consideration or understanding that I was providing free content nor did they take into account I was working off a mailing list developed by subscription only.
Mailings were sent according to their limits and rules and I could have showed them my empty bank accounts to confirm that The Lighhouse was not a commercial enterprise.
AOL TOS’ed me. (In their lingo that means that I violated their “terms of service”.)
Ironically, the second issue developed when people’s work began getting noticed.
The Lighthouse ran serial selections. Each week a new chapter was added to each of the three novels presented on the page.
One writer was approached by an editor who had read his work at The Lighthouse. The first directive from the editor was to immediately be removed his work from The Lighthouse page.
I can understand how a new novelist would do anything to please an editor, but, on the other hand group of weekly readers. If the author felt no obligation to those reader, I had a responsibility to be sure that those to come back the week after week would not be disappointed when the work stopped somewhere in the middle.
I stopped running serialized novels .
The last and perhaps deepest blow came when I received an e-mail from a concerned (and angry) reader saying that a poem published on The Lighthouse’s page had been plagiarized.
Before publication, the person submitter acknowledged that she was the writer, the sole owner of the copyright, and had the legal right to authorize publication of the work.
I also ran the poem through my usual “web check” ( Running writer’s names, titles and sometimes sections of a selection to see if there were any conflicts or exceptions.)
After many e-mails back and forth, I took the poem down.
As a writer and poet, I felt disgusted that someone could claim credit for work that was not theirs, and have the audacity have it published.
With my spirit broken, The Lighthouse eventually became a monthly, and then a quarterly, and then a memory.
I miss The Lighthouse and although presently there is only a dim lamp burning, perhaps you would like to contribute some of your work to brighten the light once again. There is a link to the submission guidelines below
Till then – as promised on the first web-page: “We’ll keep the light on for ya!i
Inkfeather, The Lighthouse Keeper
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Correlation
The BOY, A little too young for me to look at Even twenty years ago, Stares across the street, His eyes fixed so steadily, I had to look.
A GIRL, A little too young to be me Even twenty years ago, walks, Fixed eyed, not meeting his stare, Her stride is so steady, She doesn’t notice.
I sit, And for a second it seems like We’re all the same Yet It forces me to wonder Will my mind ever Catch up to its number?
12-93 ©Inkfeather@aol.com NYNY
The Blind Man
The sheep looked as hungry For new grass As the house looked for a Coat of paint. Movement behind the door. Someone’s home Where the sign outside said FRESH EGGS- WOOL.
Step up –step over – a waiting mouse Dead- bounty left by the Blind man’s cat. Not dead enough to offend The nose. The trophy - stepped on Without regard, The blind man in over used Blue jeans Needing a tumble in Water -soap Asks “May I help you? - Someone is there.”
I think about turning and walking back up the muddy path far away the blind man sees me not like the mouse. Obligatory smile- “Dozen Eggs?”
“Right this way.” Door Opens; Air attacks. Can the blind man not smell? “Extra Large? That’ll be two dollars. First time here?” Unthinkingly, I nod “Yes,.” I say. ‘And the last time,’ I think.
Two dollars in his hand He explains “Place didn’t look like this Back when My wife and kids lived here But they left.” I didn’t wonder why Took my eggs Stepped over the dead mouse Passed the cat. And smell of sheep’s wet wool. Rain’s started – The path’s muddier now. It seems time don’t fix things It don’t see.
@Inkfeather
(RE Valenti)
. Black Magic - no bones - no black cat or boiling pot Just a state of mind Photo & Poetry @Inkfeather (RE Valenti)
An apple a day Keeps the doctor away –no - The lawyers did that Photo &
Poetry @Inkfeather (RE Valenti)
Poetry & Prose by
Inkfeather · Cheers & Jeers about my Peers More to Come |
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Interested in submitting your work? Check the guidelines (to be posted soon)
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