print publication

1 Comment October 3, 2022 Steve Wiggins

You’ve got to admire those who are determined to be writers on their own terms. As someone who’s tried and tried again to break into even indie presses, I know few established publishers will even consider fiction from someone who’s not already established. As my regular readers know, I’ve been reading a lot about the Legend of Sleepy Hollow lately. So I came across Austin Dragon’s Hollow Blood. Part of a two-volume novel set, the story takes a creative approach while retaining several of the original characters, even having clever nods now and again to the wording in the original. Although clearly self-published, Dragon is able to let his imagination go on this one. Julian Crane, Ichabod’s nephew, is out to avenge his uncle’s death.

In Sleepy Hollow he confronts Brom Bones with the crime, but wrongly. It turns out that the Marshal—there are elements of the old west in this too, with cowboys and showdowns—knows where Crane has settled and offers to take the nephew to him. So unfolds a story that feels a bit more like a western than a horror story at points. I don’t want to give away too much since Dragon, like most of those who make their living by writing, needs to move copies to stay solvent. The thing is, Sleepy Hollow seems to be an evergreen subject. America keeps coming back to it. Many writers try to take it on as the basis for more modern reboots. Of course, I have to read the second volume to find out how it really ends.

I can’t help but think that the internet has made it difficult for writers by allowing anyone to establish him or herself as one. If you can build a fan base, you can make a living at it. The publishing industry faces problems of its own, of course. Paper shortages are a problem. Not only the pandemic, but the assumption that ebooks were going to spell the death of print led paper mills to cut production. Funny thing—print has been seeing a resurgence of interest. Large media seems surprised, scratching its metaphoric head and saying “People like actual books—who knew?” But I digress. The simple tale of a love triangle in the 1790s with a ghost on the loose has spawned a great number of offspring. Some published the traditional way, and others on a writer’s own terms. It’s a story worth the retelling.

1 Comment December 22, 2021 Steve Wiggins

Some insecure people feel the compulsion, but really don’t know why. Speaking strictly for this insecure person it’s because (I think) I’ve been ignored most of my life. I didn’t cause trouble so teachers seldom paid me any mind. (I’m pretty good about obeying rules.) I was a middle child with less than a year at youngest status. I was abandoned in a house at the age of one for God knows how long when my father went out on a bender. Who knows? In any case, this piece isn’t really about any of that. It’s about the compulsion to write articles. I don’t know why I keep volunteering to do this. They get me nowhere. You’re not paid for them, and you get little exposure. I seem to be addicted to appearing in print.

This blog is purely an electronic phenomenon. It exists nowhere in print. I post on it every day in the hope that, like a Pioneer probe, it will connect with somebody who comprehends. As a non, but erstwhile, academic I am not compelled to write. In fact, it sometimes complicates things. (If you believe that freedom of written expression exists you’ve never read a publishing contract.) So print publication appeals to me. I had an email from a volume editor the other day and I couldn’t place the name. I opened it to read that the volume had been accepted as I was struggling to remember what I promised I would write for him. I had to do an email search to locate the chain. So that’s what I said I’d do! (The previous article I’d committed to I remembered well, since the proposal was long overdue.)

Print publication, you see, takes a long time. An erstwhile editor (likely an academic), gets an idea. They wrestle with it a while and then write it down. Pitch it to a publisher. The in-house editor has to pitch it to the editorial board. Often after peer review. It can, in my defense, take months—plenty of time to have forgotten I said I’d contribute. Then the book has to be written. That part can take years, but in edited collections many hands make light work. After the disparate pieces are finally cajoled in (one editor had to keep after me for four months), the editor, well, edits them. Then they finally get sent off to the publisher. The production process takes about a year. The volume comes out and you get a congratulatory email or two, and then it’s forgotten. I’m not sure why I do it, but I’ve been published by university presses for taking these on. When I was teaching I couldn’t seem to get their interest. Now that I’m writing about horror they’re starting to notice. But then, that’s how monsters behave.