It all started when my friend Nanci Lee came over one night in December.
My partner and I had invited a few close friends, many of them poets, for a simple pre-holiday gathering. Nanci showed up, shaking off the cold, and handed me a bottle and a poem. I didn’t quite catch how she introduced it, and asked her if she would read the piece during the evening.
“Maybe,” she said. “We’ll see.”
Several hours later, we were back in my vestibule and she was putting her coat back on. She hadn’t read the poem, and I opened the folded piece of paper to see what she had written.
Something about the ephermerality of the piece, the (hopefully) fleeting moment in our time she evoked, the tension of current debates and discussions, the understated form of the poem on a single piece of paper passed to a friend at an evening gathering, called for another ephemeral transformation.
I had long wanted to start some sort of micropress, to participate in this long-standing publishing tradition of ephemerality, of attention and reverence for the small, for our passing moments. While there are many fine chapbook publishers I love in this country, I couldn’t name many micropresses that were dedicated to producing what I had in mind–stylish but affordable pamphlets that drew attention to single poems, that honoured the way many people (including poets) prefer to engage with poetry–one poem at a time.
Perhaps not such a lark, then, but I plunged, printing off on the printer-photocopier in my kitchen (a supposedly unromantic Christmas present my partner had given me years ago) a half-dozen copies of Nanci’s poem, now a pamphlet on green cardstock (for this is what I had on hand). I even added a bio to the back.
I kept one for myself, dropped the rest off in her mailbox, and waited.
When I learned her delight, I asked her if I could produce it as a limited-run pamphlet, the first in what I hoped to be a not-so-fleeting series of standalone poetry publications. Thankfully, she agreed.
From there, I bothered the closest poet I could find (Nolan Natasha) for a poem. Then I asked two more Kjipuktuk (Halifax) poets I admired, Jaime Forsythe and Anna Quon. Thankfully, they said yes, too.
I had bought a few packs of cardstock before embarking on the 50-copy runs. There was this vibrant pink I liked, one that stood out to me, both beautiful and intimidating. The other colours in these sets–sage green, sunset orange, sunny yellow, and a gentle, feathery blue–were relatively easy to match to the words that were coming in. I loved the pink, but wasn’t sure if I would find a poem to suit it.
The answer came when I saw the post on Sue Goyette’s IG page. Sue had written a poem to commemorate the encampment at Meagher Park, a temporary community of the unhoused that had been forcibly displaced by the city of Halifax. Sue’s own poem, originally installed at Meagher Park on plywood, had itself been ousted, and Sue was now on IG, asking her followers for ideas of how to procede.
I reached out and asked Sue for permission to publish her piece as a pamphlet. Again, thankfully, she said yes.
To summarize: within the span of a week or two, I had published five poetry pamphlets, which made up the first season of Opaat Press. I first publicized the poems on my (private account’s) IG stories, giving some away, and selling the others. Before I had time to strategize further, three of the five pamphlets were out of print, with few remaining of the other two.
One month later, I am still selling the remaining copies and getting requests for more. Sales on the first season’s titles have been good enough that I’ve (almost) broken even. Not only this, but a decent chunk of the first season’s proceeds (the profits from selling Sue’s pamphlet) were donated to Out of the Cold. I also pay my poets a modest honorarium, in addition to copies of their work.
By my count, this is micropress success, so I’ve given myself permission to keep going. Pamphlets by another two Kjipuktuk-based poets are to come, as well as a couple from the South Shore of Nova Scotia. I am hoping to secure the last spot for the second season soon.
In the meantime–you can always reach out to me directly to order either of the remaining Opaat Press pamphlets. If you want to be the first to know about new titles, I suggest signing up for updates.
Until soon–
Annick MacAskill 