We’re insane. There, I said it. Who would start a speculative fiction magazine in this market? The reasons not to embark on this endeavor are numerous: even break-even profitability for magazines collapsed when Amazon changed the terms for its subscription service, the most ubiquitous online connection and communication point for readers and authors imploded into a hellscape of unrestrained misogyny and racism, paying magazines are flooded with “AI-generated” trash, and consumers of speculative fiction have become accustomed to exchanging their information and time for “free” content in lieu of paying creators for their work. Yet, writers continue to write, artists continue to create, and foolish souls continue to try to distribute content to the public.
Short fiction matters. Not only is it the proving ground for authors working toward the elusive book sale, but it’s also an art form in its own right. I fell in love with short fiction as a kid who moved around a lot but always managed to find the local library. My paid first subscription was to Realms of Fantasy. It was the era of gorgeous print magazines and RoF excelled in both fantasy art and fiction. When money was tight, I gave up the magazine but missed it terribly. Unlike a novel that pushes me from one chapter into another, short fiction gives me space to stop and think about what I just read, to consider the possibilities, and to see the craft. Short fiction is a medium for experimentation where writers are more likely to break with expectations of plot, character, and form, and readers are willing to come along for the ride. We’re not beginning this adventure with the odds in our favor; we’re embarking on a labor of love.
I believe a person has an obligation to contribute to the world they want to create. When you have the means to lessen hunger, or disease, or suffering in general, you contribute some time, money, or effort. I also believe art and literature are essential for a human to thrive. Without our dreams of “What if?” we are reduced to machines. To be fully human, we need to create and share our creations. In my adult life, I have seen the rise of the internet, with all its promises of a democratization of information, transform the world. We had the opportunity to reach the world with a few keystrokes. Yet, a couple of decades later, the few have commodified both the consumer and the content while redirecting any profit away from the creators. Algorithms cosplaying as artificial intelligence regurgitate our stolen images, words, and ideas as kitsch, then push them to the forefront of our screens obscuring original creations. This system consumes humanity while starving it. Opening a magazine at this moment is a special kind of insanity. It’s an act of love and defiance.