Write a short feature for Unlined

One feature of Unlined that arose somewhat unexpectedly was each issue spotlighting a different independent bookstore, TransAllegheny Books in Parkersburg, West Virginia in Maybe on a Tuesday, and Malaprop's Bookstore & Cafe in Asheville, North Carolina in Country Wolf, City Wolf. Sadly, I have not had the opportunity to visit all the amazing purveyors of words and sundry around and about—what's your favorite independent bookstore and why? Tell us in 150 words or so (or more, if the spirit moves you) why your local hangout is the best.

We're on the lookout for other recommendations too: if you'd like to write a short review of a book, short story, movie, comic, album, TV series or [other] that relates to the issue's theme, please get in touch and let me know!

As always, send your submissions and/or questions to unlined.org@gmail.com. The deadline for American Apocalyptic is Tuesday, October 14.

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Aha... there we go. Unlined has a new front page, and the submissions page has been updated. We are back in business, friends.

For those of you who are looking at American Apocalyptic and wondering if you're disqualified because you're not American, have no fear. Outsider perspectives, displaced characters, displacement in general, I'm after all of it. An old statement as such.

(Also, yes, Mexico and Canada count too.)

Are the ideas coming yet?

Did you hear the one about the Dust Bowl documentarians? Yow.

Post-apocalyptic Americana: that means what now?

Lots of people have asked me what post-apocalyptic Americana is. For a long time, I've had a hard time coming up with more than a list of examples. It's one of those things that I know the instant I see it, though, and you probably do too: it's been creeping into popular media steadily for the past couple of years now.

This is an aftermath genre; life as we know it is already gone. Setting is just as much a character as people. The element that I find in common with all of it is how people confront empty spaces, whether that means a crumbling city abandoned by most or the great wide open of the barely settled Midwest—and, of course, spaces between people.

Apocalypses have always been central to the United States as settled by Westerners; the drama of the end of the world is a recurring theme in its history. The pilgrims came to establish a new world, a religious city on the hill; the Civil War literally rent the country in two, in ways that still touch us today. The Dust Bowl and the Depression are still in living memory, and often invoked.

One of the other great American myths is that of the melting pot, and of how hybrid the country is. The supernatural has been close to the American mythos all along the spectrum, from the pervasiveness of faith (Americans are some of the most religious people in the world) to immigrant beings adapting to a new land (Neil Gaiman's novel American Gods or the television series Supernatural, about a pair of brothers who hunt demons, ghosts and other nightmare things). Sometimes the fantastic mixes well with the ordinary; others, the results are catastrophic.

None of this means the genre is automatically hopeless or grim or even dystopian. It doesn't even have to be in the future. People keep on keeping on. At heart, a lot of this is about how the extraordinary becomes ordinary. American Apocalyptic is what that looks like when the country has been overwhelmed.

Now, all this said, don't feel like you have include any of those specifics in your submissions. Surprise me; make it work. That's what I'm looking for.

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Sound is a huge cue for me; I rely a lot on music when I write, and my favorite playlists are full of this American Apocalyptic sound.

Jeffrey Foucault



"Train to Jackson" (live, 2007) — I was lucky enough to be at this show. This man is an incredible performer and astonishing storyteller. I think he's as gifted or more than Sam Beam (Iron & Wine).

Neko Case


"Maybe Sparrow" (music video, 2006) — Neko has a blows-you-away voice and a haunting command of imagery. She's become my rule of thumb: if your story can feature her on the soundtrack, it's post-apocalyptic Americana.



"Deep Red Bells" (live, 2006) — the sound and images don't match up on this video, but I love the quality of the slide guitar, and the strange distance of her voice.

The Blues


Robert Johnson, "Cross Road Blues" — I have no words. This man influenced so much of how music evolved in this country. (Plus Supernatural did a fabulous episode about him, which always flies in my book.) Robert Johnson is chock full of references to supernatural creatures and events. Even stripped of his guitar playing and his voice, his lyrics are spine-chilling.

John Lee Hooker, "Hobo Blues" (live, 1965) — One of the best, hands down. John Lee Hooker is spare and stark and straight to the point.

M. Ward


"Medley: Rag/Duet for Guitars #3" (backstage, 2008) — M. Ward has a ragged whisper of a voice which he uses to great effect with great lyrics, but first and foremost, this man can play.



"End of Amnesia" (unofficial video, 2007) — I have a lot of M. Ward's music on this playlist, because it's so atmospheric. He makes finding the right headspace easy.

Lhasa de Sela


"Con Toda Palabra" (music video, 2006) — Lhasa was raised in Mexico, performed in a circus across Europe, and lives in Quebec these days. Her voice and her sensibility are impressive beyond description. The imagery in the video above is surreal and lush and weird, which means I love it.



"El Desierto" (music video, 1998) — Lhasa's debut album was organized around the myth of la llorona, the Woman in White.

Religion


Mindy Smith, "Come to Jesus" (music video, 2007) — Mindy Smith isn't a religious singer per se, but she brings a beautiful, stripped down sensibility to her music. See also her cover of "Jolene" by Dolly Parton.

Johnny Cash, "God's Gonna Cut You Down" (unofficial video, 2007) — The Man in Black is a great American trope himself.

I hope those help — watch this space for more in the coming weeks!

Strangeness in the context of truth and fiction

In one sense, you do expect to read about the end of the world in the newspaper. But to see it just this side of fiction isn't quite as usual. Last weekend, the Washington Post published a piece about Americans' idealization of the Great Depression, complete with imagining how such an event would look in today's terms, and to future historians. Now that's what I'm talking about!

American Gods by Unlined's patron saint, Neil Gaiman, is going to be made available for free online in the near future. Keep an eye out for this -- if you've read this book, then you know how fantastic it is, and if you haven't or you know someone who hasn't, this is the perfect opportunity to see why America is a bad country for gods.

I know Unlined's been quiet since the submission deadline, and you all have my thanks for your patience. We've got some wonderful written pieces in the works, but we're still in need of visual art. Got photographs, illustrations, paintings, video, collage? American Apocalyptic wants your eye! Email unlined.org@gmail.com if you'd like to talk.

By the way, speaking of the Great Depression, we can haz lolbos? The Laugh-Out-Loud Cats are what happens when you combine the modern sensibilities of netspeak with the aesthetic of early cartoon strips and the 1930's vagabond lifestyle.

Call for meta

Hey there, non-Americans! How's it going?

So, I've got a proposal for you. There's an essay I'd be particularly interested in seeing in the next issue of Unlined. As you know, the forthcoming theme is "American Apocalyptic." Maybe you saw that and went, "Well, there goes universality."

I want your outsider perspective. I want to hear about how everything you know about America, you learned from the talkies or the funny pages or the television screen. I want to know what you make of us when you see us portrayed. How weird is this country, seriously? You tell us. Garth Ennis (Preacher) is from Northern Ireland; Neil Gaiman (American Gods) is from England; these are just the two authors I can come up with off the top of my head, but they're proof enough that the outsider perspective is often the most potent.

What do you think about America through the lens of Supernatural? Carnivàle? Stephen King? Popular music? By the by, if you're reading this and thinking, "Gee, I'm American! Can I write that up and send it in too?", the answer is most emphatically yes.

Submission guidelines, as always, can be found here. The deadline is Tuesday, January 29th; email me at unlined.org@gmail.com if you're interested.

Photoalphabetical

Whenever I'm writing, I'm an utter jackdaw when it comes to pictures. I collect photographs and artwork and all manner of other files and stockpile them in esoteric folder arrangements all over my hard drive. They might be the perfect setting for a specific scene; they might have the right pair of shoes for a character to steal in a cat burglary; they might have nothing to do with the subject, but capture a mood perfectly.

Daily Coyote has just come to my attention. It stars a young coyote named Charlie who was found by a woman in Wyoming at a scant ten days old, both his parents dead at the hands of hunters. Physically, she reminds me of Ruby, a character in the third season of Supernatural. She sure has a talent for capturing unexpected and surreal moments, in addition to the too-easy "baby coyote is beautiful and cute!" stills.

If you live in the Washington, DC metro area, I'm envious -- there's a free exhibit through December 31st at the National Gallery about the evolution of snapshot photography, and the strangely marvelous images collectors have found amid all the new cars and prom dresses and poolside gags. It reminds me of perennial favorite Accidental Mysteries. I love the phrase that goes with pictures like this -- "vernacular photography."

While I combing Google, trying to determine whether American Apocalyptic was as "already taken" as American Gothic, I stumbled on Wink, what seems to be a mostly constant stream of images alternately impish and arresting. Comb through this and see if you get any ideas. All of the above are fantastic mood-setters.

Haunted by American dreams

Dear readers, you may have noticed that Unlined failed to happen in the second half of 2007. For that, I sincerely apologize. But, to look on the bright side, all this time off has given me a chance to collect my thoughts about how I'd like the litrag to progress. We'll probably be moving to a bi-annual release schedule, just to keep sanity and quality at fighting weight. Which leads me to my next announcement!

Sound the kazoos! The third issue of Unlined is officially opening up for submissions. The theme and title of the volume is American Apocalyptic. As with all issues of Unlined, I urge you not to take that prompt too literally: twist it around a little bit, play with it. I'm not explicitly looking for end of days disaster scenarios, but rather the strangenesses that become ordinary afterward.

There's a genre I've been noticing gaining popularity in the last few years: I call it post-apocalyptic Americana. In books, you have Neil Gaiman's American Gods, or Stephen King's Dark Tower series. In music, you have the rise of artists like Neko Case, Calexico, Iron & Wine, M. Ward and The Black Keys (and these are just a few of my favorites -- I promise I have more, if you need the inspiration!). In movies, you have O Brother, Where Art Thou?, as well as a growing number of Westerns coming back into vogue. My two favorite examples in television are Firefly and Supernatural. Getting ideas? I hope so! This blog will continue to feature examples of the genre, as well as discussions on the theme, for some time to come. Submissions are due Tuesday, January 29th, 2008. We want everything, so sock it to us, writers, artists, essayists, photographers, playwrights, videographers, poets, humorists, and postmodern multi-format defiers of description!

Serious literature is, indeed, serious business.

Lucy Snyder has linked to a glorious repudiation by Ursula K. LeGuin of the frankly ridiculous assumption that genre fiction has no literary value.

In short, watch out, Slate, or angry zombie golems will come for you in the night, and then all the John Updike in the world can't save you, my friend.

Unlined's deadline for Issue 3, Still Water Runs, has been extended to July 27, 2007. I want you to think about water, its presence or its absence; I want you to think about deception; I want you to think about movement and persistence; most of all, I want you to play. Parse that title -- turn the words into different parts of speech, make them modify each other the way you look at optical illusions.

Have fun.

And the first person who can filk "Hoist the Colors" from Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End -- or "A Pirate's Life for Me" -- with the words "Submit, me hearties, yo ho!" gets a very special prize, to be determined by the winning entry.

The best mugging ever

I just found a magnificent quote in a book I've had for a long time, but never got around to reading in depth.

As I see it, a successful story of any kind should be almost like hypnosis: You fascinate the reader with your first sentence, draw them in further with your second sentence and have them in a mild trance by the third. Then, being careful not to wake them, you carry them away up the back alleys of your narrative and when they are hopelessly lost within the story, having surrendered themselves to it, you do them terrible violence with a softball bat and then lead them whimpering to the exit on the last page. Believe me, they'll thank you for it.

Alan Moore, Alan Moore's Writing for Comics

This is the only writing-about-writing book I own, and really, I'm finding myself quite glad of that. Who needs more with pep talks like his?

Many apologies for the long radio silence. But things are heating up again at Unlined. I'm working on a system of leaving comments directly onto a story or piece of art, which should be much more useful than the forums have proved. Meanwhile, submissions for Still Water Runs, the Summer 2007 issue, are five weeks from the deadline. There's still plenty of time to get started, and the season, she's still young. This blog is also still, as always, open for contributors. Both can be queried at unlined.org@gmail.com. Bring your own softball bat.

Anima

I've been thinking a lot about Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy lately. New Line is, as you might know, releasing a film version of the first book, The Golden Compass, in December. One of the conceits that bonds me so fast to these books (moreso because of their characters than their plot, but that's another post) is that of the daemon. The daemon is like an external hard drive for the soul, and it takes the shape of an animal. You can learn more at the linked websites, or better yet, by reading the books.

One of the reasons I chose Country Wolf, City Wolf as this issue's theme was my ever-abiding love of animals. I love thinking about cultural perceptions of animals, and how they vary from context to context and person to person. A favorite website of mine is The Medieval Bestiary, a fairly extensive catalog of common and allegorical information about creatures one might find in Western European illuminated manuscripts. This is a neat resource in its own right, but becomes more interesting if you read through it with daemons in mind, given that His Dark Materials is a retelling of John Milton's Paradise Lost.

As for myself, I find myself fixating on the whippoorwill, which has strong Underground Railroad connotations to me, particularly affecting because I grew up in that part of the country, near the Ohio River. I've just found out that, according to Wikipedia, "in New England, legend says the Whip-poor-will can sense a soul departing, and can capture it as it flees." If anybody else finds themselves as unable to stop thinking about this as I am, let us know if something comes of it.