Author: Inklette

Difficulty Swallowing

The story is a familiar one. Back in college, Dad had this roommate Hank: soft-spoken, respectful, grew up logging in Washington State and, age twenty, junior year, had arms like Lou Ferrigno (Mister, you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry. Rhrrr…). I hear again about the time Hank—wielding two massive, running chainsaw, one in each hand—tore through the bolted doors of a frat house (Dad: “I just happened to be returning from lab late that night.”) to find what he feared most inside: his beyond drunk fiancée in the arms of others, plural, and she without any awareness or clothes. No punches were thrown, though various pieces of priceless, heirloom furniture were turned into perfectly tidy blocks of wood by Hank’s methodical, mechanical blades. The campus police came. Estimates put the damages at about a quarter-million dollars all told. Parental political influence, a cover-up, and that’s where the story previously ended: she called off the wedding, dropped out of school, and was unheard from since. But (new twist) last month Dad, out early Christmas shopping in Biloxi, saw her with what appeared a teenage daughter (don’t ask him how, maybe she adopted but they have similarly nice legs; maybe she froze an egg) inside a lingerie store at the mall.

“Just goes to show,” Dad says. And stays quiet for a few seconds.

        “Speaking of, did I ever tell you about the time that one summer I interned for the Parks Service in college? Well, they had this piranha problem, you see, but don’t ask me how they got there. Mean little devils…”

        We sit, neither of us ready to call it a night, my first of four days in town, father and son in a sublevel garage surrounded by dusty fishing rods and deer antlers mounted behind faceless red felt. Coffee’s tepid. Room’s a few degrees above frigid. We’re both tired but awake seated where once a yellow bass boat—originally a sunflower hue, then a mustard color faded from hundreds of weekends of use—moored, but now a poker table sits and the two of us.

“That’s when Gustaf (yawn) hit upon this G.O.B.S., that’s what we call a ‘Good Ol’ Boy Solution,’ if you didn’t know. Meaning sticks of dynamite. Realistically, though, for the piranha, you gotta— (yawn) Excuse me. Here we go again.”

        He covers another long, lion-like yawn with a fist, back of his paw home-sutured with butterfly bandages from an accident fixing the timing belt on the truck. Yawn over, heater humming, Dad’s made uncomfortable by my stare, which has shifted from fist to face.

        He leans forward from his casual slouch to slide his coffee mug in contemplative circles and continue his story, which after a few words I’m pretty certain will end poorly for Gustaf’s furry companion.

“Boy did that mutt ever love going out on them pontoon boats. Loved to fish. When nothing was biting, Gus was teaching Hawk how to bird-dog. They’d play fetch out on the water. Well, on this particular day, Hawk went out with Gus and the raw meat bait and them sticks of dynamite…”

        Dad’s face has changed subtly. There’s the same dark spot on his forehead as last year’s visit but larger. When I asked Mom as we set the table whether he’d been to see a doctor, she shook her head and said, You know your father; it’s one of those things where he’s ten-foot tall and bulletproof. Oh, I’m sorry, no here: salad bowls go on the right and bread plates to the left like this here, see? So how’s Boulder treating you? You still liking it out there? (All by way of tiptoeing around my wife Kim’s absence and our pending divorce.)

        But what draws my attention isn’t a skin blotch. It’s his beak, that windsail of a nose, crooked, broken for the first or third or twelfth time in the growing portfolio of stories, its septum eventually partially replaced with Teflon. Maybe it’s the shadows of the overhead lights or maybe it’s the lateness of the hour, but, as he spins more fictions from his ball of yarns, that prominent Fleiss Family feature looks to grow.

        “Now the most unique athlete by far, hands down—anatomically-, academically-, and athletic-ability speaking—I’ve ever met was Mariciella’s daughter…”

        Mariciella, I’m being told, was the housekeeper at the weekly hotel where Dad had roomed for two weeks a few years back as part of a flood recovery crew. She knew Dad because he was the one lodger who always made his bed and asked her how her day was going and was kind and courteous, even letting her high school freshman daughter Skye use the desk in his room for her homework. (“It was better than having Mariciella hide the poor child in the janitor’s closet for hours until her shift was over.”) And so it came to pass that every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, Dad tutored Skye in her toughest subject: math.

        I’d prefer we sat in silence. Or even discussed his disappointment in my divorce, my dumb business trips’ one-time indiscretion after drinking in a bar, or my job. Past two years now the workload of three people to make perpetually nervous investors happy, shutting down two of our five domestic plants to meet margin, keep the business going, specializing.

        But Dad won’t. After thirty-seven years of knowing each other, we still don’t talk. We don’t talk about his hours playing video lottery (on a Saturday or a Sunday or any weekday evening: “Mom, it’s Bobby. Dad there?” Her voice, after a sigh, “I can’t say quite exactly where your father is at this very moment. Must be out running errands.”) or his 401(k) going poof, voilà, vanished in this decade’s bubble so his once early retirement plan’s pushed back again another 4 to 5 years, another 980 to 1,225 workdays, another 7,840 to 9,800 working hours. We don’t talk about my older sister Katey’s abrupt “marriage” now six, seven years ago or her and her wife’s excuses every Christmas not to visit, that their life’s hectic right now, or seeing their vacation photos to Mexico available on social media. We don’t talk about, years ago, my losing my scholarship or his own shot at going pro he gave up for a steady job with the government because Mom had gotten pregnant. We don’t talk about his belief (conviction?) that the world was created in six days or how national health care’s a plan to kill fetuses and old people. We just don’t.

        “Now Skye was, as they like to say these days, just a little ‘developmentally challenged,’ mentally, you know.” Yet, thanks to Dad’s patience, the young basketball star came off academic probation, so naturally Dad accepted the free ticket to her varsity game.

        “Now while just a freshman—all of fourteen, fifteen years of age—Skye was taller than your old man and could dunk by just barely coming off her tippy toes. Never seen nothing like her before, on the court or off. With those long legs, that girl could fly across the planks like schwoom.

        “Now that little lady was really something else. But that was the problem, you see, she was so unique.”

        I could punch him. Probably the first time since high school, I’ve the urge to lay my dad out, hurl my fist into his fibbing face. My right hand’s clenched with knuckles digging into the tabletop’s felt. He pretends to sip from his mug of cold coffee, attempting to recall another tall tale to fill the void as he brings Skye’s to a close. I breathe deeply, evenly, keep fixated on his face, his nose, which is not just shadows under the basement garage’s fluorescents or my recent months of not sleeping well but is definitely growing.

        Skye—who developed in Mariciella’s womb during some troubling times, a teenage mother addicted to crack cocaine—was born with only three fingers on the right hand, two and a half on the other, but they were long phalanges (except for the half-finger) and could palm the ball.

        “And if that weren’t bad enough for the kid, Skye was born with just one lung, and asthmatic at that. She plays hard, you see, but she’s got in her just a few minutes before she gets winded. But once she catches her breath, boy howdy, watch out. Yup, wouldn’t be too surprised to see Skye on TV one day playing professional ball for the WNBA if they’re still around by then. Just hope she remembers me. And her teachers. All those others who helped her go on to get wherever it is she wants to be.”

        Our eyes lock. I feel organs in my chest not in any biology textbook drop into my bowels and lie there heavy and wet. It’s late. Storytime will be over soon and nothing will have been said. Like last year and every year, three or four days of this and then I’ll be back on a plane. And we wouldn’t have communicated a goddamn thing.

        I push the coffee cups aside to lean across the green felt. I reach for his nose, red, tumescent, remembering how confused I was when Grandpa Fleiss would put his thumb between his first two fingers and say he’d stolen mine. Dad jolts back, startled.

        I see myself doing it before I do and then find it’s impossible to stop. His hands grip the arms of his chair as I crawl along the table, placing my hands over his wrists. The panic in the room grows. I swallow hard, wet my lips, and kiss the tip of his nose. It quivers, and I rub it against the traveler’s stubble along my cheek. Son, he says. Relax, I say.

        Once he won a peanut butter-eating contest in college. Thirty-two sandwiches in ten minutes. The peanut butter was spread this thick. (I ignore the initial impulse to gag.) No jelly. It got to where you couldn’t open your mouth; stuff was like spackle. Of course, they sliced bread bigger back then. (A vein throbs against the roof of my mouth.) His competition, nicknamed Blobby Kennedy, an all-state linebacker weighing in at over two hundred and fifty pounds, must’ve thought, “What, this skinny basketball star? This is going to be a walk in the park.” (His nose extends back past the hinges of my jaw.) They were only given a shot glass of water. (Deeper: untrimmed hairs scratch my tongue.) The trick is to gargle with a little bit of baby oil before the competition. (I take it in some more, alternate my tongue between nostrils.) All the proceeds went to charity. (I begin to cough.) The trophy’s still on display at the LSU Geology Department. (And choke.) The governor presented it to Dad and shook his hand. (I can’t.) This same governor later ran for President, lost in the primaries, but did mention Dad in a speech once.

        What’s inside snaps off, lodged mid-throat, releasing a warm putty. My eyes water and I choke. I fall backwards in my chair.

        “Are you alright?” he asks.

        I nod, coughing, trying not to cry, trying to swallow once more.

THOMAS LOGAN has worked in various capacities for small and international journals. He currently serves as the Fiction Editor for The Grove Review, published from Portland, Oregon. He is a member of Buntho SF Writers Group, which grew from an Ursula Le Guin class at PSU. His work has been published or is forthcoming in Far Hotizons, Surreal Worlds, Amok!, Big Pulp and Brief Grislys among others.

8 Frames of A Boy Falling From a Ferris Wheel

 

1

Every American knows the ghost of Coney Island

we rarely though

contemplate

from this altitude

Icarus in the henhouse

 

2

Youth exists in the perpetual recognition of gravity

without consequence

the inhalation

the wingless

rotation

Ferris wheel mirage

spokes snowing white rust

over fields of the quieted midway

 

3

The only difference

between flight and falling

is distance

a rat’s labyrinth is a puzzle from above

I can see it

a ticking two dimensional clock

wound once and imperceptibly beginning to slow

 

4

The same silver watch

they give to retired racehorses

they will give you

the world from up here

on a chain

length untested

 

5

The mathematicians called a meeting

to declare I don’t exist

but I can count the distance

by my fists

from this sudden folly

to the shrinking squares of their many swimming pools

 

6

For a moment he floats with one hand reaching for the parking lot like it was a lock, turning

only a moment, leaving the wheel behind like a wall with no floor

a chlorine light, would-be beast from the sea: remember this

 

7

What substance etches the jumper like skywriting from a plane into the air?

He left a message trailing from his bare feet

perhaps a wish for wings

perhaps simply, “hello” written for something so big it only sees you as you’re vanishing

 

8

The ozone gasp of impact

I watch myself escape

but I do not/ but I will

when the wind stops blowing

NATE MAXSON is a writer and performance artist. He is the author of several collections of poetry, most recently, The Whisper Gallery (Lit Fest Press, 2015). He lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

 

 

 

 

Love In A Hopeless Place

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Love in a Hopeless Place by Apurva Bhalla
Photography Ι 1824 X 1824 Ι –

APURVA BHALLA is a young photographer from Amritsar, India. He loves to capture nature from different angles.

People Like Cats

You tell me I like people like cats. I like cats—their bodies sit on laps, sprawl desks, stretch alongside thighs during sleep. I like bank tellers who send dog cookies and suckers in the pneumatic tube. At big boxes, I like cashiers handing over the flickering white coil of receipts. I like pushing a mega cart with flats of bubbly water and twenty-five bags of the animal crackers you love. Liking people is like liking cats. Lots of people are like cats—lonesome, winsome, self-lickers of crotch. My aunt was like a cat. She wasn’t a nervous cat in a room full of rocking chairs. She didn’t have any rocking chairs. She just lost her nerve—wouldn’t anyone who loved someone who was gay, trying to pass, who passed time smoking and rolling a cart of drugs. After the divorce, she changed her name, restarted an affair with a married man, and bred a new breed of cats, the Sphinx, folding her hands forever against Scottish Folds. Anymore, she won’t answer her phone. When we visit my ex-uncle with his live-in boyfriend and a futon we can have for free, he makes us dinner, opens your beer, says, I’m not really a barfly, more like a housecat, making me wonder how many housecats there are in the world, and why anyone would want to be a barfly, when you could be a cat. When we get home, me driving DD and you hauling the futon up the stairs, you lay the mattress in the middle of the floor and fall on it, eyes shut, grinning. I crawl into your lap, nuzzle your neck, rubbing my body against your own. You’re right. I say, I like people like cats. Thinking cat snuggles, cat warmth, midnight catcalls, I say, Now that we have a futon, can we get a cat?

LAURA MADELINE WISEMAN’s recent books are An Apparently Impossible Adventure (BlazeVOX [books], 2016) and Leaves of Absence: An Illustrated Guide to Common Garden Affection (Red Dashboard, 2016). Her collaborative book,  Intimates and Fools, is an Honor Book for the 2015 Nebraska Book Award. She teaches at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln.

 

Staff Tales

The Inklette team comprising entirely of youngsters in high school or college has been busy curating submissions and adding the final touches to the magazine’s second issue, due to be released in early April. But in addition to editorial duties and preparing for finals, the multi-talented members have been involved in a host of other creative and profitable activities as well, whether it’s being published in literary journals, winning competitions or even graduating from high school an entire semester early!

Read on to find out what your favourite Inklettes have been upto in the months of January and February: 

Inklette’s Co-Founder and Editor-in-Chief, Devanshi Khetarpal, has recently joined the staff of the upcoming Moledro Magazine as a Poetry Editor. Moreover, her latest poems have been accepted at Souvenir Literary Journal and The Corner Club Press Magazine. One of her poems received an Honorable Mention from the Nancy Thorp Poetry Contest by Hollins University. Along with comrade, Trivarna Hariharan, Co-Founder and Editor-in-Chief, the duo have also been interviewed by LitBridge. In addition to this, Trivarna’s poetry has also been featured in HIV Here and Now, On The Rusk and Random Sample Review and also joined the staff of Moledro Magazine as a Poetry Editor and Director of Social Media.

Meanwhile, the Prose Editors have been upto some serious creative writing. Liana Fu recently won two regional gold keys in Scholastic Art and Writing awards for personal essay/memoir. John Osler III had a short story published in Moledro Magazine and launched the latest issue of The Southern View, an underground satirical newspaper that he runs. But Nathalia Baum has definitely been industrious – she graduated from high school a semester early! She says, “I had to really load up my schedule to meet all the graduation requirements but I’m really proud of myself and am using my time to take classes at a nearby college and write.”

Poetry Reader, Smriti Verma too has been taking her creative writing seriously with her work being featured in B O D Y and Crashtest. Inklette is also immensely proud that Poetry Editor, Harnidh Kaur and Prose Reader, Rohit Chakraborty have been featured in the Campus Diaries’ list of “Top 25 Under 25” change-makers in the ‘writing’ category. While Harnidh has been recently published in the American Mustard, Rohit’s reviews and fiction pieces have appeared in Kindle magazine. Meanwhile Prose Reader, Umang Kalra has made it to Trinity College Dublin, Class of 2020!

Moreover, Inklette’s mischievous Illustrator/Designer, Aditi Chandra, has been busy developing her website/blog: http://www.aditichandra.wordpress.com, which is almost ready to be launched. She is also delighted to have been published in ArtRefurbish, Alexandria Quarterly, Cargo Literary and Moledro Magazine.
On the other hand,  the Interns have been participating in a variety of extra-curricular activities. Haley Zilberberg’s latest volunteer activities include being the Vice President of a club called ‘Access at UCF Now’ and she even received a Scholarship for the School of Social Work at the University of Central Florida! Plus, she also has her writing forthcoming on the site, ‘Everyone is gay.’ Archita Mittra has been recently published in Culture Cult, Quail Bell Magazine and Eye Art Collective. She also won the second prize in the Eriata Oribhabor International Food Poetry Competition 2015. Finally, wordsmith Paige Ariella Robinson has been working on her novella as well as writing for her school newspaper and play-writing class.
Way to go, Inklettes!

Blog Credits: Archita Mittra (Intern)

145789737574684ARCHITA MITTRA is a freshman, majoring in English, at Jadavpur University. A student journalist for Voices, the Thursday supplement to The Statesman, she is a regular contributor to Glo Mag and Quail Bell Magazine. Her work has been recognized by The Statesman, The Albert Barrow Creative Writing Competition and TATA Literature Live! To know more about Archita, visit her website here.

 

 

 

Inklette interviews Sprout Magazine

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Inklette interviewed a dear friend, Sprout Magazine, that turns one next month. 

Sprout envisions “a space where young minds can share their thoughts and opinions about society through creative expression.” Sprout is a nonprofit, online literary journal for teens, by teens and publishes “creative media that demonstrates awareness of the world and social commentary, sharing art in its purest, rawest form.”

Here is Victoria Hou, the Editor-in-Chief of Sprout, interviewed by our Prose Editor, John S. Osler III. 

John: How would you describe Sprout to someone who’s never heard of it?

Victoria: I would describe Sprout as a curation of creative, developed political thoughts from young artists. Sprout’s mission is to promote awareness through art, so that’s pretty much who we are at the core.

John: What inspired you to create a magazine like that?

Victoria: I’ve always been an artist, but I didn’t become politically active or aware until I started getting on social media. When social movements such as #blacklivesmatter and intersectional feminism became increasingly more relevant on social media, I found myself and my peers becoming more and more educated about political and social issues. So, Sprout’s a happy marriage between the two things I find most important in life – self-expression and awareness.

John: And do you think Sprout has done that so far, reflecting social issues through art?

Victoria: I think so. As with all art, many of the pieces featured on Sprout are personal, but all of them align with a greater social issue. For example, we’ve featured many pieces on bullying and gender inequality. Both of these topics are ones that affect the individual, but are issues that connect with our society as a whole.

 So, Sprout’s a happy marriage between the two things I find most important in life – self-expression and awareness. 

John: Correct me if I’m wrong, but I remember hearing that, up until a few months ago, you and Sophie Grovert were the only editors for Sprout. What was that like, editing and publishing an entire literary magazine with a staff of only two?

Victoria: To be honest, it was pretty tough at the beginning. I founded it on my own and Sophie started helping me out in the months following Sprout’s birth. But eventually the word got out – Sophie helped me out a lot on that front, she’s got a lot of writer friends that I didn’t have – and Sprout started expanding.

John: It certainly has. How has Sprout changed since taking on seven new staff members?

Victoria: Well, our productivity has certainly increased. Our focus has shifted from developing internally to growing outward. But we’ve stayed true to the feelings that led us to create Sprout in the first place – a motivation to offer something meaningful to the world and an enthusiasm for honest, raw work.

John: With a larger staff, do you have any new projects in the works?

Victoria: We want to create an issue featuring selected works from our magazine! Currently, Sprout features a piece weekly on our website, but we’re looking to put out a collection for our anniversary in April.

 But we’ve stayed true to the feelings that led us to create Sprout in the first place – a motivation to offer something meaningful to the world and an enthusiasm for honest, raw work.

John: Interesting. Are there any topics you wish more people submitted pieces about?

Victoria: With so many political topics and social issues in the world, it would be impossible to prioritize a few over others. That being said, however, I think issues such as gun control, immigration, and Islamaphobia could be really interesting if expressed creatively.

John: What would you say your personal favorite piece so far has been?

Victoria: I can’t pick a definite favorite, but recently we featured a piece titled “White on White” by Lucas Bigelow that expresses frustration at internalized racism. It’s a wonderful read and basically captures Sprout’s essence of political realization and clear, elevated thought.

John: Would you say Sprout has a certain ideology, or that you publish anything, so long as it’s political in nature and well written? Would you, for example, publish a thoughtful piece that argues against legalizing same sex marriage?

Victoria: Sprout itself doesn’t have an ideology. Although staff members may have certain opinions on political issues, Sprout will publish thoughtful political pieces so long as they aren’t hateful or threatening in nature.

At the end of our mission statement, it states “We encourage all opinions and points of view, but that being said – Sprout does not reflect any biases present in the work we publish. We are simply a plot of land for seeds to grow. Plant yourself here and watch yourself prosper.”

And we like to stick to that whenever possible, regardless of our personal views or opinions.

John: Huh, and have you run into any problems with that thus far, staff members conflicting over political views or readers complaining about pieces they didn’t agree with? 

Victoria: No, we haven’t. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

In all seriousness, anything that cultivates and encourages political opinion is a breeding ground for controversy. I think that if readers disagree with pieces featured on Sprout, we’re doing our job in promoting differing views on issues that matter. And by all means, if you disagree with something on Sprout, we’re glad to consider your opinion for publication as well!

When talking politics, its important to include the voices of everyone. Sprout will always have room to grow in this respect, because there’s always someone out there who’s voice isn’t heard.

John: So you’d be willing to publish counter opinions to published pieces?

Victoria: Yes, if we ever received any that followed our mission statement and submission rules. Sprout believes that any mature political conversation is a good political conversation, and we’d be happy to feature any well-crafted opinion piece, whether it counters a previous piece on Sprout or not.

John: So in your submission rules, I see that you only accept submissions from writers and artists ages thirteen to twenty two. What do you think publishing only pieces by young writers adds to Sprout?


Victoria: Sprout acts as a medium for young people to nurture their thoughts. It is, by extension, is a learning environment. You can flesh out different avenues with Sprout. Because we only publish young artists, we’re able to build this safe space for young artists to express themselves and learn at the same time. A platform to explore opinions is especially important in a time of life where it seems almost impossible to have your voice heard. And that’s just not the teenage angst in me speaking either.

John: Okay, last question: besides publishing an anthology, how do you see Sprout growing in the months and years to come?

Victoria: Well, I hope to see an inclusion of more political issues from around the world. We have two staff members who are from countries other than the U.S and it would be wonderful to see more international submissions regarding issues that aren’t necessarily Western in nature. When talking politics, its important to include the voices of everyone. Sprout will always have room to grow in this respect, because there’s always someone out there whose voice isn’t heard.

John: Well said. Thanks so much for agreeing to the interview, it was a pleasure to speak with you! 

Victoria: Thank you so much for the opportunity! The pleasure was mine!

Blog Credits: John S. Osler III (Prose Editor)

14572798657827VICTORIA HOU is a sixteen year old poet and artist. Along with being the Editor-in-Chief of Sprout, she is also the executive editor of her school’s print literary magazine, The Highland Piper. Her poetry was awarded Silver Key for Scholastic Art & Writing, West Region in 2014. She is also a two-time gold medalist and one-time silver medalist in Foundation for Chinese Performing Arts’ National Brush Painting & Calligraphy competition. Passionate about politics and law, Victoria spends her free time reading up on current events. 

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JOHN S. OSLER III is currently a senior at Edina High School, where he writes for both the school’s underground, satirical newspaper, The Southern View, and their legitimate newspaper, Zephyrus. He has attended the Iowa Young Writers’ Studio. He is currently a Prose Editor for Inklette, where his story, ‘Farrand Pride’ was published. Another story of his, ‘Howard Houghton,’ was published in Phosphene Literary Journal. Recently, his short story, ‘Bobby’s Song’ was published in the first issue of Moledro Magazine. 

Inklette interviews Loud Zoo Magazine

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Inklette interviewed a friend, Loud Zoo Magazine, which  is “concerned with powerful and unique visions rather than chasing markets and pandering to trends.”  

Loud Zoo is a fresh and daring magazine. Its journey is marked by a grounding honesty. In this interview, we have tried to bring to fore its ideology, story and more so, its unique voice. 

Here is  Josh Smith, the Editor-in-Chief of Loud Zoo, interviewed by our Intern, Haley Zilberberg.

Haley: Can you elaborate on your ideology and future goals?

Josh: I’m historically terrible with goals, but around a year before we started Loud Zoo, I approached a longtime friend about joining the staff and he responded by asking what we were hoping to accomplish by reviving Bedlam from its dormancy. That friend was onto something. Maybe he knew we needed some direction, maybe not, but in asking that question, he sparked a string of potential projects and outcomes that ultimately led to what we’re doing today. The pieces were all there; I just hadn’t stopped to consider the possibilities until that moment. We had been kicking around the idea of shutting Bedlam down on our tenth anniversary, but I still had a feeling that we could do more. I knew that if we built a magazine on a socially-conscious base, it would not only keep us more engaged, but we could make a deeper connection with our readers as well. Our ideology is sustained by this drive, and sharpened by paying attention to the climate shifts both in literature and the world at large.
We acquired our first translated work for the last issue, which was stunning, and we would really love to feature more. It seems that beyond the works of well-known writers and magazines that focus exclusively on translations, American literary publications don’t often contain them. Of course, there are exceptions, but from where we’re standing, far too many perspectives are ignored, unable to breach the language barrier. If we see increased translations in the greater literary arena, I feel like we’ll see an immense shift in the types of stories and books that people will seek out, which will likely affect film and television productions, making the wider scope of storytelling more interesting. We’ll keep pushing with our platform, hopefully other editors will as well!

Our ideology is sustained by this drive, and sharpened by paying attention to the climate shifts both in literature and the world at large.

We also haven’t talked publicly about our first book yet, and I can’t keep it contained any longer… We’re working with Ali Eteraz (who appeared in Loud Zoo #1) on a collection of poetry by Ramez Qureshi. Ramez was a Pakistani-American living in New York who took his own life just months before 9-11. His poetry embodies an energy and direction that virtually disappeared in the wake of the September attacks. It weaves between academic and cathartic, intimate and community-minded, and is wholly engaging throughout. The Qureshi family discovered an immense body of work, much of it handwritten, and provided us with copies to review. Catherine, one of our editors, has been meticulously transcribing all of these pages, and we’ve begun making selections for which pieces will appear in the volume. We hope to have it out by late 2016 or early 2017, with plans for a short-run special edition in the works.

Haley: Also, what is your perspective on this question: In a world that is becoming increasingly connected, what is the importance on focusing on individual communities?

Josh: The increased global connectivity is changing how we perceive just about everything, and no community is left unaffected, even if the impacts are indirect. We’re seeing communities of all types thrive and struggle, and if we pay attention, we can learn something and lend a hand when things are leaning in our favor. With artistic groups, we’re seeing people come together who never would have made contact otherwise, and absorbing each other’s far-reaching influences and inspirations. Once one or two people hit a groove, they tend to inspire their cohorts, and all of a sudden, there’s a kinetic burst where several undeveloped ideas catapult into something its creators never imagined possible. The larger the range of perspectives and new influences, the more powerful this burst, and the work it produces, tends to be.  Small, isolated groups can stagnate and start to repeat themselves without new ideas to stir them up, and will eventually either dissolve or become toxic. Of course, we see this in political and other social circles as well.

What is important about differentiating from mainstream journals and who defines mainstream/alternative? What does it mean to be mainstream/alternative to you?


Mainstream and alternative journals each serve important purposes in the lit world, and I don’t think one type could exist without the other — at least not currently. While mainstream publications tend to target the casual reader, alternative press is free to charge into the unknown, and in my opinion, the farther the better! Not every experimental work will change how we read, but a far fewer number of absolute Earth shaking pieces come out of the mainstream.

For us to be an alternative isn’t to catch the dregs from the mainstream, but to lift up the brave new voices who are poised to be the next mainstream, but haven’t yet had their opportunity for the world at large to understand them.

Literature is just as bound by the constraints of what sells as movies, music, and any other medium, and if a work doesn’t check off enough of the required elements for a publisher to consider it a money maker, it’s jettisoned without alternatives to provide it an opportunity. Journals are generally more accepting of challenging work than major book publishers, but there are definitely enough parallels to keep the little mutants like us charging through the underground. Also, as far as I can tell, there are approximately nine billion lit mags currently being produced, and as much as that may seem like a reason to not add another one to the stack, if we look back at this global connectivity, we see it opening up worlds of new interests for people to enjoy. Sects and sub-genres and niches, each one validates itself by its own guidelines, merits, and communities, and each one needs a platform to keep its fans sated and its creators productive. As such, we don’t focus on any single genre because we see merit in all of them. For us to be an alternative isn’t to catch the dregs from the mainstream, but to lift up the brave new voices who are poised to be the next mainstream, but haven’t yet had their opportunity for the world at large to understand them.

Blog Credits: Haley Zilberberg (Intern)

 

145688373036873JOSH SMITH is not a pseudonym. He is, however, a jack of some trades. An aspiring mad scientist, he builds and amplifies noisy contraptions when time and space permit. He’s on Twitter – @jsbedlam. This is probably not his real face. He is the Editor-in-Chief of Loud Zoo Magazine.

 

145688373036873 (1)HALEY ZILBERBERG is pursuing a Bachelor’s in Social Work with a
Creative Writing minor. She writes about many topics, often surrounding disabilities and social justice. Haley has been published in Inklette and Loud Zoo (Issue 5).