How to Run a Poetry Reading (the Way I Say it Should Be Done)

Start by hurling yourself into a giant industrial fan

It’s not too late. You don’t have to do this. Running a poetry reading won’t make people care about your writing or make you popular. In fact, it is a perfect vehicle to earn the resentments of the other inmates in your local literary correctional centre (“community”). It’s basically like the yard in prison: If you choose to invite a member of the Mexican Mafia (local scene queen with extensive tattoos in a backless halter top), you can’t well invite someone from Nuestra Familia (her socially awkward ex-girlfriend whose poetry is actually good), let alone the Aryan Brotherhood (her ex-boyfriend who you’re actually friends with). Whomever you choose, know that someone will be sharpening the shiv hidden in their asshole¹ for you. You’ll send Facebook event invites even though it makes you look like hospice-era Joe Biden because it’s the only way to get a reliable sense of who is at least considering showing up. The Fear will be visible in your faux-laconic Reels. You’ll toss and turn in the leadup to the show and then, what’s worse, what could be worse?, when it arrives you’ll be bored. This sacrifice of precious time won’t bring back your goddamn honey.

But whatever, let’s say you’re going to do it anyway. In the interest of ameliorating potential harm to you and your future victims, I have a few modest suggestions.

A note:

The advice herein assumes you’re trying to run a poetry reading, rather than a Slam. If you’re unsure of the distinction, try using this quick assessment: does the poetry you like sound like a youth group pastor rapping? Is there a formal point scoring system and official winners and losers at the end of the night (as opposed to an unspoken but obvious consensus)? That sounds like a Slam, and I cannot help you with that. No one can.

Format

• No poetry show should have more than an hour of total reading (unless there is an open mic—a topic for another day). Unlike at a concert, where the audience can generally talk, order drinks, piss, smoke etc. with impunity thanks to the volume of the amps, at a poetry show the readers can hear you fucking blink when they’re standing at the mic. I’ve gotten dirty looks because the ice in my long-since-emptied glass clinked during a performance, like I had scared off the timid spectre of Emily Dickinson and not briefly distracted someone called Rome-E-O Tha Poet or whoever.

• The truth is, most people go to poetry readings for the post-show hangout, where they can make friends with other writers and/or angle for their own opportunity to read in the future. The show therefore has to be punchy enough to hold their attention despite these distractions.

• The most popular act at any poetry show goes by the name “Intermission.” Yes, you need an intermission. No, you will not be back with the next performer in ten minutes even if you say so onstage. The intermission is always “like 20 minutes,” especially if you have smokers in the crowd. Your job as host is to not let it turn into 40.

• The ideal number of readers is four, each performing 10-15-minute sets, with the intermission in the middle. You can absolutely book more readers, but you’ll want to trim down their sets to accommodate each additional performer. Having a bunch of people do a poem or two each can have a really fun energy, but 10 to 15 minutes gives each poet time to construct a set and make their mark.

Booking Talent

Considerations

• Do you like their work?

• Are they a good performer? Do they respect the audience’s time?

• Will they help you draw a respectable house? (Important if keeping your venue requires you to sell a certain number of drinks, and to prevent yourself from feeling like a fucking loser.)

• Have you made an effort to present a diverse lineup? You’re not looking to tokenize your performers—but it behoves you to reach outside of your comfort zone to find talents who may not be part of your usual personal and artistic circles.

• Are they a personal liability (e.g. a creep)?

Make sure you tell your performers how long their set should be when you first contact them, and remind them day-of. If you’re able to pay, you should also mention that up top.

If it’s your first event, you might as well just book your friends and use it as a dry run to figure out how you want to present your show and then party after. Once you have your footing, you should start thinking like a curator. How do you want your poetry show (or series) to stand out from others? What is its aesthetic?

If you believe in poetry enough to run an event, consider not only the people you wish to encourage, but the type of work. Readings and reading series’ can help bring together fellow travellers whose work may present a meaningful alternative to the dominant style; the performers you book will bounce off of one another, and in that overlap something new may emerge. Give good, underappreciated writers the impression there is a place for what they do, and the audience a chance to find them, and you give them the rarest commodity in the creative world: hope.

Reading Order

Sequencing is everything. As a curator, you should have a good impression of each poet’s writing and performance style. There are no hard and fast rules, except these ones I just made up:

• If you booked someone super popular to help get people in the door, do not put them in the first half of the show: their friends will just leave at intermission. If they’re genuinely talented, put them at the end. If they’re mid, stick them on right after the intermission before the closer so it’s socially awkward for their entourage to dip.

• Manage the energy: If you have a powerhouse performer who tends to leave people thrilled and exhausted, don’t put them on right before a mouse who stands stock still and murmurs into the mic. If someone’s work is extremely raw and challenging, put them on later in your show so that the crowd has had a chance to warm up a little and get settled.

Emceeing: Don’ts and Dos

Orient the audience: Up top, explain the format so people know when they’ll be able to use the bathroom, freshen their drinks etc. It’s like watching a movie—it’s a lot easier to calibrate your expectations if you know the length at the outset.

Your housekeeping will vary: you may wish to follow in the fine Government of Canada tradition of doing a land acknowledgement to the peoples who have had no opportunity to consent to their land being used for your radically soft self-exploration session; you may be required by your conscience, venue, or fear of your audience to set some guidelines around content warnings; you may even be trapped in the year 2016 and have to declare that your reading is a safe space. The important thing is to get all of this stuff out of the way as clearly and expeditiously as possible so that everyone knows the rules and you can get to the fun part (going home).

Don’t read the poet bios: Poets are the writers least liable to be able to actually write, especially about themselves. Their bios are a dreary litany of irrelevant publications, sometimes capped off by a nervous Tinder-bio-quality joke. When poets hear someone read their bio out loud, they feel like dorks, because it is dorky to have your resume recited before you try to move someone’s soul. Skip it, and just say something sincere about why you booked them. (Lying may be helpful here.)

Create a buffer between acts: Listening to oral poetry is an intellectually and emotionally dense experience—at the end of a good set, even a funny one, people will need a minute to reset themselves. Make sure the performer gets a good round of applause, thank them for their time, and then try to read the room. Could they use a little silence to absorb what they just heard? You can give them that. Are they peppy, feeling good? Make some small talk, heap some more praise on the last reader, make a joke etc. and then get on to the next person. If you know the general tenor of the next reader’s work, try to set the table for them a little—the energy of your intro should match that of the set you’re introing.

It’s okay if you’re shy, and you will find your footing if you keep at it. Remember, just because you’re producing the show, it doesn’t mean you have to host it. If hosting strikes you as a grim chore, consider finding someone more gregarious to emcee the gig.

Promotion

Try to get a decent-looking poster made and get it up in the window and interior of your venue if permissible. Wheatpasting posters around the neighbourhood is great, but labour-intensive (and difficult in winter). Wherever your perceived audience hangs out (record store, book shops, hip laundromat, safe injection site etc.), get a poster up there.

Online, Facebook remains your best bet, but (with the exception of the Quebs) most people despise the site and the uptake won’t be what it was in the late ‘10s. An Instagram timeline post is pretty standard, as are regular story updates—beg your diffident, perceived-effort-averse performers to share it as well. TikTok exists, but I can’t tell you about it because I am a fearful luddite.

Finally, there are still various standalone event calendars maintained by alternative weeklies, blogs, campus radio stations, and ticketing platforms like Eventbrite. It usually doesn’t take long to submit your listings to these joints, and you’d be surprised how many attendees will find your ass at random just via search.

Setup and Tech

Assuming your venue has a PA, probably you just need a mic, a stand, and a stool. Make sure you check in advance, because even the most loudmouthed poets can somehow be drowned out by the sound of a pint glass being gently rinsed when they start reading. Worst case scenario, you can probably rent a portable amplifier and mic from your local music shop for like $20. Do a quick soundcheck before people get to the venue—ideally try to stand in the back and get someone else to talk into the mic so you know what it’ll be like in the cheap seats.

Try to get comfortable adjusting the height and angle of the mic stand. It’s polite to set the height of the mic for the readers during your intros so that they don’t have to fumble with it too much.

Conclusion/Get It Over With

This blog is like 1,900 words, we’ve both had just about as much of this as we can stand. Only a fool would run a poetry reading—but the world needs fools from time to time.

1. I couldn’t find a picture of one, but an “ass shiv” is a knife with a hollow reversible handle that unscrews so the blade can be hidden inside. The tube is then safe to tuck inside your asshole when you surrender yourself to custody, allowing you to start your prison stay well-armed. Here are some fun home-made shivs as an apology.