 Anyone who works in publishing – either for an independent press or one of the big (and growing) multinationals – will tell you that it’s no longer a cosy desk job. The days of Mad Men-style boozy lunches and unlimited editorial freedom are long gone. While the industry isn’t exactly in decline, it’s had to get leaner, and smarter, and more ruthless in its pursuit of sales. It’s why our bookshops are now filled with celebrity memoirs and TV tie-ins: good or bad, at least they know they’re going to sell. Which makes the survival of anything outside of this mainstream publicity machine all the more remarkable. In late 2017, I made the foolhardy and slightly naïve decision to start a new journal of weird, eerie and uncanny fiction: The Shadow Booth. Eschewing the tropes and conventions of traditional horror, I wanted to devote the bi-annual publication to the strange and the unclassifiable, unsettling tales that owed more to Robert Aickman and Thomas Ligotti than they did to Stephen King. What I found was that, a/ there is definitely a market for this kind of fiction, and quite a devoted audience at that; and b/ it is challenging, sometimes close to impossible, to market yourself to that audience. By its very nature, The Shadow Booth doesn’t appeal to the mainstream channels, doesn’t fit within the conventional genre boundaries – so how the hell do I get people to buy it? Fortunately, it also became clear that I wasn’t the only one trying to map this foggy no man’s land. There are a number of other small presses at the moment publishing within the same kind of non-genre – Undertow Publications, Nightjar Press and Gehenna & Hinnom Books, to name just three – and the more contact I had with them, the more obvious it became that we were all facing similar problems. Michael Kelly, who runs Undertow Publications, expressed it clearly and succinctly when I asked him about the challenges he faces: ‘The fact that it is a niche market is a challenge. The general reading public has no idea of, or real concept of, weird fiction. There have been inroads, of course. Jeff VanderMeer, China Mieville, to name two. But, overall, I don’t think it’s a strain of literature that will ever have mass appeal. ‘Getting the word out on our titles is the major challenge. I don’t really actively market the press as a “weird fiction” press, per se. (I know, I know – we published the Year’s Best Weird Fiction.) I’ve always felt our aesthetic was literary. And incorporating the fabulist, the uncanny, the dark, the weird, the horrific, the numinous, the surreal, the gnostic, the esoteric, and the avant-garde. Strange tales for strange times. It’s that liminal area where genre and literary fiction meet. Marketing is a huge challenge.’ Nicholas Royle at Nightjar Press faces similar challenges, which may be why the press has only remained a part-time endeavour, despite some impressive authors in their catalogue. ‘I’ve never had any illusions about making loads of money doing what I do,’ says Royle. ‘I earn my living teaching creative writing and working as a mentor and an editor. That gives me the freedom to write and publish what I’m most interested in.’ Charles Dunphey (of relative newcomer Gehenna & Hinnom Books) also pointed out the difficulties involved with finding suitable submissions to publish: ‘The most frequently encountered issue is that of authors submitting stories that aren’t weird fiction! We say in our guidelines that we don’t want anything that’s been done before, yet every call we receive tales of ancient vampires living in industrial cities, demonic possession, and werewolves attacking people in the woods. The purpose of literature is to expand the mind, hence why we only publish “original” ideas and concepts. If what people read doesn’t further their imagination, then what’s the purpose? I think weird fiction and cosmic horror are the most difficult genres to write due to this, and it definitely makes submitting difficult for authors.’ It’s a problem I’ve run into with The Shadow Booth, too. People sometimes ask what the conventions of weird fiction are – but the weird, by its very nature, defies convention, so it’s near-impossible to explain what I’m looking for. More than once, I’ve suggested to authors that they send me a story they love, but which they’ve been unable to find a home for because it’s too odd. ‘Too odd’ is about as close to a definition as I can get. I was intrigued to know which authors attracted Royle, Kelly and Dunphey to this kind of writing in the first place. ‘Kafka, Borges, M. John Harrison, Robert Aickman, Anna Kavan, William Sansom… among many others,’ was Nicholas Royle’s response. Michael Kelly came up with an impressive list of ‘Vernon Lee, Alfred Kubin, Arthur Machen, Charles Beaumont, Franz Kafka, Shirley Jackson, Ramsey Campbell, Thomas Ligotti, Kelly Link, Edgar Allan Poe, Ray Bradbury, Angela Carter, Amy Hempel, Kathe Koja, and others I’m no doubt forgetting.’ Dunphey mentioned ‘Lovecraft, and Poe’s novel The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket. For new writers, I’d definitely say T. E. Grau harpooned me into the genre with his debut collection The Nameless Dark, and authors like John Langan, Gwendolyn Kiste, and Jon Padgett have all impacted me greatly.’ My own personal list crosses all three, from Lovecraft and Machen to Carter and Aickman. It’s good to see we can at least agree on that. So, given that it’s such a difficult (non-)genre to publish, why do we all persevere with it? ‘Weird fiction tends to require a bit more out-of-the-box thinking and creative innovation,’ Dunphey responds. ‘Whereas commercial horror often finds its roots in oft-portrayed tales of murder, ghosts, demons, etc., weird fiction requires the author to depict the undefined, which requires much more skill, in my opinion. The thing I always ask myself when reading submissions is, “Have I ever read something like this before?” If the answer is no, then usually that’s a great sign. Since the genre is defined by being undefinable, it’s often the most exciting subgenre to read. The originality in this genre is widespread, and I feel that the authors who write it, and write it well, are on a different tier in comparison to authors of mainstream horror.’ Nicholas Royle’s response is similar, revelling in that which lies beyond the mainstream. ‘When I think about it, I’m not particularly into mainstream anything, but it’s not a conscious avoidance, simply a question of taste. I’ve always tended to prefer BBC2 to BBC1, and Channel 4 to ITV. (I understand there are more channels available these days.) I listen to Radio 3’s Late Junction rather than the Radio 1 Breakfast Show. In horror I’m more into suggestion than in-your-face stuff. William Trevor believed that the most important words in a story are those not on the page. I’d agree with that. I’m drawn to some of the specific elements that are believed to represent the uncanny or provoke uncanny effects: dummies, masks, dolls, simulacra, automata, doubles and Doppelgängers etc. There’s surely nothing weirder, and therefore more attractive in fiction, than the idea of encountering your Doppelgänger.’ As for Michael Kelly, his excitement at the strange and the liminal is evident in his reply. ‘Weird fiction and horror fiction, I think, are modes of fiction that, more so than any other strain of mainstream horror (ie. commercial fiction), allow for a deeper self-examination of the human psyche, even if, at times, that examination leads to uneasy or ambiguous results. Commercial, mainstream horror can go to those places, and we are seeing it more thanks to Colson Whitehead, Jordan Peele (in cinema), and others. People interest me. Weird fiction, through metaphor, mood and atmosphere, is able to gaze with an unblinking eye on societal issues. It’s the mode of fiction that opens up new vistas and isn’t restricted to genre. It’s real and unreal. At its best it elucidates my feeling that we’re living in a liminal borderland of shadows. And I enjoy the trappings of this mode of fiction, to be sure. It’s rarely prosaic, and, to me, often reaches transcendence.’ As for me, I’d have to agree with all three. I’ve just published The Shadow Booth: Vol. 3, and now that the journal is hitting its stride (and I’m getting a little more used to the murky terrain I’ve entered) I’m finding it filled with challenges, but also rich with hidden rewards. The stories I’ve published so far have stretched beyond anything I ever imagined when I started back in 2017, including selections for The Year’s Best Weird Fiction, Best British Horror and Ellen Datlow’s The Best Horror of the Year. They’ve also crossed genre boundaries in ways nobody could have foreseen, from experimental literary fiction to terrifying genre horror, from horror-sci-fi pirates to self-help books about mythical creatures. I’ve published many of my heroes, including Alison Moore, Robert Shearman, Paul Tremblay and Aliya Whiteley. Whatever you choose to call it – ‘weird fiction’, ‘strange stories’, ‘the uncanny’ – publishing these unusual, genre-defying stories is never easy. As we’ve seen, the market is small, the publicity spiel is confusing, and it’s almost impossible to tell writers exactly what you want to read. Despite that, though, I’ll be persevering with The Shadow Booth for a while yet. Because whatever else it may be, it’s never, ever boring. The Shadow Booth: Vol. 3 is available now as a paperback or ebook. It includes new stories by Robert Shearman, Verity Holloway, Tim Major, Annie Neugebauer, Richard V. Hirst, Jill Hand and many more. ABOUT DAN COXON Dan Coxon's writing has appeared in The Guardian, Salon, Unthology, The Lonely Crowd, Neon, Gutter, Wales Arts Review, The Portland Review, and many other places. He is the editor of This Dreaming Isle (Unsung Stories, 2018) and Being Dad (Best Anthology, Saboteur Awards 2016). He also edits and publishes The Shadow Booth, an international journal of weird and eerie fiction, as well as running a freelance copy-editing and proofreading business, Momus Editorial. In his few spare moments he has been known to write strange and uncanny fiction under the world's least secret pen name. Twitter: @dancoxonauthor. Website: www.dancoxon.com. -- _________________________________________________ This Dreaming Isle edited by Dan Coxon 17 stories of British folk-horror and dark fantasy - out now from Unsung Stories Freelance Editor & Proofreader www.momuseditorial.co.uk Editor, The Shadow Booth: www.theshadowbooth.com Author www.dancoxon.com The Shadow Booth: Vol. 3 Jared can feel the tower blocks looming overhead, three concrete sentinels watching as he runs. He knows he has less than a minute before his pursuers are on him, but as he rounds the corner into the alley he stops, dead. There's a strange canvas structure propped against the wall, a hand-made sign scrawled on a scrap of cardboard. Enter the Shadow Booth, it says, and you will never be the same again.” The Shadow Booth is an international journal of weird and eerie fiction, publishing emerging and established writers of the strange. Drawing its inspiration from the likes of Thomas Ligotti and Robert Aickman, The Shadow Booth explores that dark, murky hinterland between mainstream horror and literary fiction. Volume 3 includes new weird and uncanny fiction by: Nick Adams, Judy Birkbeck, Raquel Castro, Armel Dagorn, Jill Hand, Richard V. Hirst, Verity Holloway, Tim Major, Annie Neugebauer, Robert Shearman and Gregory J. Wolos.   Comments are closed.
|
Archives
April 2023
|
RSS Feed
|
|