I havenāt written a substack post in a while. Iāve been very busy with weekly reviews for Pink Plastic House, other reviews, trying to read a lot, acquiring books like a sick person looking for a fix, my writing for my newspaper job which pays me, and other general things in life that are exhausting me.
I have a tendency to leave projects unfinished. I have several novel length things I havenāt completed, several novels I have, no ideas how to get them published. I get really weary thinking about how/who to approach to maybe publish me, it just feels impossible on any given day. Iāll bounce back at some point.
I might figure out how to publish my own works as Prism Thread Books. People do that. Use their own presses to put out their own books. I look askance at that only a bit, otherwise it seems fine. I wonder if people actually read those works. I loved Bram Riddlebargerās Golden Rod which he put out at his own press, Gob Pile Press. That novel was superb, I thought. I had never read any Brautigan before that, so that might be why I thought Golden Rod was so excellent. Oh well.
But seriously, what would I publish next at Prism Thread if I suddenly acquired all the skills of running a press: the technical know how, the knowledge of how to set up contracts and payments to authors, all that? With Adam Johnsonās Cialis, Verdi, Gin, Jag, which is out now, we split the responsibilities for publishing the book, Cody Sexton and I. Cody runs Anxiety Press who are in a very real sense, the real technical publishers of the book. Cody uploaded the manuscript to Amazon after putting the finishing polish on the book with the input of Adam and myself. I did some preliminary formatting which was sort of superseded by Codyās editing and formatting. Iāve been kind of struggling with this whole situation from a philosophical and business perspective. Iām happy on one level that my role in the bookās creation was reading it and picking it out as a good manuscript and pushing for its publication, and leaving the physical and financial details to be worked out with Cody and Adam. On one level thatās just how it worked out and Iām glad. On another level it leaves me feeling incomplete, and questioning what my role is. Iāve conceptualized it to myself that I was like the āspiritual publisherā of the book while Cody and Adam dealt with the flesh of the book, its physical existence (hints of biblesā commentaries on Alt-Write about spirit vs flesh in writing and publishing). This has led me to do some soul-searching about what I would want to do next. In a very real way I would like to do this with another book: find it among some slush or a flood of manuscripts, see something that really rivets me in place, something amazing that, like Adamās novel, makes me feel like āI canāt rest until this is a book. This deserves to be published.ā
Would I again like to be part of a collaboration where my role is harder to pin down while others hammer out contracts and fine tune the editing/formatting of the manuscript? Maybe. This has led me to wonder if Prism Thread shouldnāt be something like an āimprintā of a larger press, or a division. And Iām not really the publisher per se but a managing editor of the division or something, making larger decisions about what books to publish, what projects I think are worthwhile, the āvisionā while other people handle the nitty gritty. I say this because I feel like I have apprehension about getting those skills. I feel like I need software, or technical know how, to truly bring a book to publication. Maybe some book will come along that will be so good it will force me to educate myself in the technique and Iāll just do the whole thing. In the meantime I feel disinterested.
The situation with Adam and Cody was special and it worked out. Theyāre great guys. But in the future I would like to try to have more control or leverage or decision-making power. It was a good first experience. Iām hopeful that as that book spreads and gains some momentum, people mainly recognize Adamās skill as a novelist, and secondly, Codyās abilities as an executor of book projects ā and thirdly, my ability to pick a good book. I would like Prism Thread to be the source in the future of literary fiction that appeals to my own tastes which I am only now developing as I read and absorb and review other books in this scene, milieu, niche, whatever you call it.
This is where some philosophy comes in I guess. Thereās a somewhat immature temptation to say: thereās a void in indie publishing, and I want to fill it with MY PRESS. I donāt know if itās true that thereās a void because I donāt know if any of us are well-read enough, are voracious enough readers, to know the true full landscape and where there are voids and where there arenāt. Thereās so much being published that is of a certain quality, Iām blown away. And itās vain to think I have some lock on where thereās a gap to fill and exploit and try to make a successful go of it. I think itās in some ways beyond my, or anyoneās, knowledge. The marketplace is shadowy and marked by randomness or tribalism or other inhibiting forces. I just know I would like to add something, both in my writing and potentially in my editorial viewpoint as a possible publisher. I donāt really know what that second third and fourth book will be ā or if there will even be such books. At times I feel like this arrangement only came into existence to publish Cialis Verdi Gin Jag, and now that that is out, it will fade away. Or that my press will recede like the alligator that sinks below the surface unheard for a long time only to rise again in seven years and strike again. I need to get better at planning creating books. Maybe like I say, Iāll read a manuscript that is so good itāll shove aside my trepidation and hesitation and demand to be born.
Another note: I am sometimes given to spiritual crisis type thinking. I have a variable stomach for edgy literature that flirts with the immoral or amoral. Those who read Cialis, Verdi, Gin, Jag will quickly learn that like Adam Johnsonās poetry there is a lot of evil there. Although I think somewhat similarly to Bret Easton Ellis that Johnson is kind of critiquing masculinity and boomers, highly educated sociopaths, people who inhabit a psychic dead zone in upper middle class America and go off the rails as weāve seen in Johnsonās poetry. Thereās a justification for the palpation of evil in the novel.
Iāve been reading a lot of dark shit lately. It seems like darkness, nihilism, evil, whatever you want to call it, is the flavor of the decade in some ways. I love Expat Press and Schism[2] so much but shit can get DARK. I think about whether if I ran a press I would want to contribute to that or whether I would want to somehow fight against the darkness. The Prism Thread idea initially started out as being about light. Iām not a Bible thumper by any means but thereās times when I half-joke to myself that I would like to be a publisher of religious books. Again, things that would fit my particular worldview, which is not atheist and which ultimately wants to reach out for the light. I suppose this is dopey and naive and not cool. I worry about what my friends might think if I admit to being like the famous writers of the 20th century who found ways to express their faith and their belief in their literary output. I think there is a case to be made about finding something spiritual and cerebral to reflect in 2022 and 2023 as things seem to worsen. This might be the time for it and not so much to reflect the dark. It brings up an aesthetic question: is art supposed to reflect the world as it is, or as it could be? Iām not talking about publishing some woke literature that wants to pedantically educate readers about political correctness in service of building a better, more just tomorrow. Iām talking (very poorly and unclearly) about somehow tapping into something transcendent or spiritually redeeming that I feel is there to be tapped amidst the dark woods. It could still be dark and take its cues from our awful world. (Awful in the eye of the beholder?) I donāt know if I can put this into adequate words yet.
I wonāt go on about Elizabeth Aldrich because her death has just been in the atmosphere for a few weeks. It makes you think, though, about what we as writers are doing. Maybe her passing doesnāt call out for this, maybe Iām imagining things because of my own background or understandings, but it feels like there is a chance for this literary thing weāre doing to amount to more, and to somehow bear the traces of her tragic unfortunate death. I donāt know what those traces would be. Iām saying I donāt know a lot.
Iāll stop there. If any of you who are interested in any of this would like to talk about whatever Iāve written, I would love to have a conversation. I feel like I only have a fragment of the puzzle and I would really like to engage with other people. While this is true, I am kind of learning to develop a certain kind of literary or aesthetic backbone about what I see as worth pursuing, what I want to involve myself with. I think the vision has to come from within and be something individual and appealing to me. Iām trying to build something. Maybe Iām kind of a snob. I donāt know. Iām just making it up as I go, just like I bet you are yourself.