Temporary? Insanity

This week’s Talk it Up Tuesday is devoted to the new zine Noctober. It’s the brainchild of the lovely Rebecca Weybright, who has kindly consented to answer my inane questions and give us some insight into her newest project. I simply love that feeling of being a small part of something from the very beginning, and look forward to becoming one of Noctober’s most ardent fans.

So Rebecca, I think the first question that comes to mind for me is why? What inspired you to begin this new venture?

I write speculative fiction under another name. In my genre, most people begin by writing short stories, then eventually move on to novels. I did things a little backwards: I have written a couple of novels and only recently started writing short stories and submitting them to various publications.

Any writer needs to expect tons and tons of rejection, and I have certainly received a bounteous share. As I’ve received rejection letters from various editors, I’ve wondered what it must be like to be on the other end of them. Now I’m finding out the answer to that question.

When I started writing short fiction, I also read more of it than I had in many years, and I gained a new appreciation for the form. That led to a desire to read more of the specific kind of stories I enjoy and to share them with others. Voila–a webzine was born.

Is it a dream you’ve cherished for quite some time, or one of those sudden epiphanies that grabbed hold of you?

In a way, both! When I was little, I subscribed to Cricket and Children’s Digest and thought it would be great fun to create a magazine of my own. When I was a teen, I read Omni Magazine religiously and wished I could somehow work for its editors, but I forgot about my childhood fantasy once I became an adult.

But one day this past January, I suddenly had a very clear picture of what I wanted Noctober to be. I’m lucky enough to have both a gracious benefactor and a talented lawyer, so the road has been easier for me than it would be for most.

How do you define “dark speculative fiction”?

Ooh, tricky territory. To allay the concerns of any potentially disgruntled fans, let me first state that this is *my* definition, not necessarily *the* definition.

All fiction is to some degree concerned with speculation–asking the question “What if.” What if a headstrong Southern belle fell in love with a man completely wrong for her? What if a crazy man decided to chase a white whale around the oceans of the world?

Speculative fiction, however, asks the “What if?” question in both broader and more specific ways. The main branches of speculative fiction are science fiction, fantasy, and horror, and there are many fabulous little hybrids and sub-genres of those three.

To be very simplistic, science fiction goes beyond the boundaries of the real world through (you guessed it) science; fantasy does so through magic; and horror does so by expanding the role of fear.

That brings me to the modifier ‘dark.’ Here, my definition is probably quite different than the one others might have. I mean it in a couple of different senses. First, dark speculative fiction isn’t light, or humorous. In my opinion, funny stories are the most difficult to write, right up there with outstanding historical mysteries. I read both and am in awe.

Take Terry Pratchett, one of my very favorite speculative fiction writers, for example. How he manages to be consistently clever and witty page after page, book after book, is completely beyond me; he might as well be performing successful cold fusion experiments.

Dramatic or scary stories can be done effectively by amateurs or semi-pros; I’m much more tolerant of less-than-Olympic talent when it comes to those moods/affects. I find I don’t want to read anything billed as ‘light’ unless it’s written by a master of Pratchett’s stature–which rules out 99.99% of the rest of us. Therefore, bring on the dark.

Second, for me ‘dark’ equals ‘mystery.’ I’m not interested in pat endings wrapped up in happy packaging; I find questions infinitely more interesting than answers, and I want to be left asking some provocative ones at the end of a reading experience. Dark speculative fiction leaves me wondering instead of spelling out things for me. We modern mortals think we know it all, when we are actually woefully ignorant–in some cases, much more so than our ‘less enlightened’ ancestors were.

Can you describe for us what sort of submissions you’re hoping to draw in? What is most likely to tickle your fancy, and what is most likely to put you off?

Every time I open a submission, I hope to be envious; I want to wish that I had come up with it first. Almost every story I read has an interesting idea at its core, but what sets a great story apart from the mediocre crowd is the way the writer explores and develops that idea.

One branch of literary criticism posits that humans have been telling the same seven stories since the beginning of time, so inventing a new plotline is virtually impossible. What I love as a reader is to experience something both surprising and inevitable–surprising in that the elements that dress the basic frame of plot are fresh and new, inevitable in that changing even one component of the piece would lessen its impact.

I love prose that is so skillful that it does not draw attention to itself. I want words that are perfectly transparent, that let me see the story unimpeded.

I’m never happier than when I put down a story and can’t stop thinking about it. When it stays with me for hours or days, when it gives my brain something to mull over and chew, I feel as if its author has given me a gift.

What puts me off? Anything that makes me “fall out of the story.” This includes things as prosaic as typographical, grammatical, and usage errors. Everyone, including me, makes little mistakes once in a while, and rigid, formal prose is not my goal.

I actually get insulted, though, when I find egregious typos or other errors in a manuscript. They make me feel as if the writer doesn’t care enough about his or her work to get it right. The only thing I dislike more than apathy and laziness is having my time wasted. An error-riddled manuscript strikes out on all three counts.

Writers, please invest your energy in actually learning the language. No one expects a person to play Paganini the very first time he or she picks up a violin. But many would-be writers take the medium of words for granted. There’s a big difference between making a grocery list–or even writing in a diary or posting to a blog–and creating a compelling, entertaining story.

Explicit violence, sex, and language are also deal-breakers for me. They offend me because their use indicates laziness on the part of the writer (again with the laziness). Hatred, lust, and terror are powerful, primitive emotions. Evoking them is a shortcut that many writers employ to get to the reader’s core, to produce a memorable response with minimal investment. It takes far more skill to evoke longing, dread, or compassion than it does to appeal to the limbic system.

How do you think your zine will compare to those already in existence? What similarities will there be, and in what ways do you perhaps hope to set yourself apart?

Writers of speculative fiction are incredibly lucky. There are far more markets for short speculative fiction than there are for those of other genres like romance and mystery. I’ve heard some editors say that they fear there are actually more writers of speculative fiction than there are readers–based on the ratio of submissions they receive to the number of subscribers they have–but I hope that is not the case.

I would be thrilled if fans of quality zines like Shimmer, The Abacot Journal, and Farrago’s Wainscot (among many others) would bookmark Noctober. Readers should expect thought-provoking, entertaining stories of the same caliber as those in the zines I mention; I hope people go away satisfied, yet wanting more, after every issue.

As a fledgling editor, I feel I’m more open to publishing the work of newer writers than some established periodicals are; one of the stories in our premiere issue is by a never-before-published writer, and it’s fantastic.

I’m also committed to giving writers feedback, even (perhaps especially) when I reject their work. All writers crave input, but they generally get very little from editors. I understand how busy and underpaid editors are, but taking the time to give specific and positive criticism is a priority for me. I’ve actually gotten emails back from writers whose work I’ve rejected, thanking me for the feedback. That has made me feel like I’m doing my job right.

Can you tell us a little about yourself? About the woman behind the idea?

I’m just your average geek: obsessive, very shy in person, and embarrassingly enthusiastic about the things I love. I’m hugely confrontation-averse–those first rejection letters I had to write just about killed me. I think I’ve hit my groove now, though. I think the only thing really unusual about me is that I love the smell of skunk.

Noctober’s first issue has been published! I know I look forward to putting my girls to bed tonight and indulging myself! Good luck Rebecca!