Warmed and Bound: A Velvet Anthology (35 page)

Warmed and Bound: Up Close

by
Phil Jourdan

Articles originally published at
PAJourdan.com
, reproduced with permission

“The Return of Independence”

Published August 6, 2011

You will find collectives of writers everywhere. What makes the people over at
The Velvet
more interesting than others is their drive to push things forwards. I have only ever been a sporadic participant in Velvet-world, but I know enough about how it works to find the success of their recent anthology,
Warmed and Bound
, less surprising than a skeptic might think.

Because I haven’t yet finished
Warmed and Bound
, I won’t comment on individual stories. Instead, I want to draw attention to the conspicuous parallels between online writing communities and the early 20th century “amateur journalism” movement. The forming of alliances between writers is nothing new, and was nothing new even before the Great War, when future (if still contested) important figures like HP Lovecraft were exchanging texts with each other and publishing all kinds of small-scale magazines without the endorsement of “legitimate” literary publishers. Amateur journalism was an alternative to the always-suffocating, less forgiving world of big name authors, editors, and so on. An amateur journalist could write on his favorite topics and see his work in print without needing to conform to standards set by nameless (or nameless-enough) entities more likely to reject than accept a manuscript. For the most part, of course, this led to a lot of poor publications; but that’s not the point. The point is, rather, that there was another way of doing things, a kinder system for people who loved to write but for whatever reason couldn’t or wouldn’t land their stuff on the shelves of bookstores.

The internet isn’t very different in that respect, but it is bigger, more intimidating, more anonymous, and even less patrolled than the amateur journalism circles of a century ago. The poverty of the average internet user’s writing (or “typing”) is not a dirty secret; it’s the accepted norm. YouTube comments read like parodies of impossible worlds, and make us cringe when we realize they aren’t meant to be parodic. Everyone pretends to be someone they’re not, and everyone is right. There is little room, even in the infinite online world, for literacy and culture.

Or so the argument goes. An impatient glance at YouTube and Facebook could seem to confirm the truth of it, too; but that is when something like
Warmed and Bound
pops up, and the critics shut up. It’s a very comfortable position to take, but being convinced that the “democratization of the internet” will only lead to imbecility is, to put it in terms familiar to the internet dweller, an EPIC FAIL. The internet has Myspace for the narcissist, Wikipedia for the lazy, gossip blogs for the soulless, and porn for the depraved, fine, but it also has The Velvet, a little society for people who want to show that what they’re doing is worth reading, what they’re reading is worth discussing, and what they’re dreaming about is not just a way out of this world. The Velvet collected some of their finest stories, raised money, and revived interest in a genre all too easily dismissed as unliterary — and they proved they could make it good.

Warmed and Bound
is selling so well that, even in terms of the market, it has legitimized itself. By virtue of its uncompromising “underground” roots it has broken into the mainstream, and people like it. That should tell us something.

“What They’re Doing Right”

Published August 10, 2011

The New York Times has announced a revival of the book industry. Is this surprising? On the one hand, yes, of course it is. Nobody reads anymore — isn’t that the standard complaint? On the other hand, of course it isn’t. Just because some people still aren’t reading in 2011 doesn’t mean everyone’s illiterate and incapable of appreciating a well-written text. We hear gloomy reports of the publishing industry’s decline every other week. What we don’t often hear about, even though there is evidence of it if you look, is that even if the book industry seems to be suffering, it won’t go away, and it’s been adapting quite well.

I wrote the other week about the unexpected success of the Velvet Press’s
Warmed and Bound
anthology of neo-noir stories. Since then I’ve done a little more research, I’ve spoken to contributors, exchanged emails with the editor,
Pela Via
, and tried to understand what it is that made
Warmed and Bound
such a hit. If the book industry is in decline, then maybe it’s time to learn from the tactics that the Velvet people adopted to make their book the triumph that it clearly is.

The first thing to say, of course, is that
Warmed and Bound
is a good anthology. That should surprise nobody who’s familiar with its contributors. The stories are short and well-written, and the book represents a suitably wide range of styles and moods to keep a reader interested the way through. I was particularly struck by a story by
Blake Butler
, which I feel merges poetry and some kind of noir-inspired subject matter quite effectively. There are stories by popular authors like
Craig Clevenger
and
Stephen Graham Jones
. I’ve taken classes with both of these authors on the official Chuck Palahniuk website, and I found them both inspiring in their teaching and confidence. It was only to be expected that they’d have good stories in
Warmed and Bound
. The other stories are for the most part very representative of the kind of strong, dark, sometimes sad fiction that you’ll find the Velvet people writing and publishing in magazines all year round. All this to say that the content of
Warmed and Bound
should already recommend the book. But that alone very rarely proves enough.

Other factors, important ones, have combined to make
Warmed and Bound
a success:

A foreword by
Steve Erickson

Having an established and reputable author’s name on your collection always helps. It adds legitimacy to your product. In case Craig Clevenger and Stephen Graham Jones weren’t enough, there is Steve Erickson’s little opening essay. Erickson’s foreword is very short; it introduces the collection without overwhelming anyone. He doesn’t overpraise — he lets the stories speak for themselves. He doesn’t try to steal anyone’s thunder. But now, anyone looking up his stuff on Amazon will see
Warmed and Bound
. I’m sure that, alone, has convinced some people to buy the book. No doubt they were pleasantly surprised.

The combined power of many self-promoters

Many of the authors involved in this project are fantastic at promoting their own work. This is crucial, and yet people just don’t seem to understand how crucial it really is. If you have a couple dozen writers, some with cultish and loyal fanbases already from sheer hard work and readings and frantic publishing, all promoting the same book, you are going to hear the word spread. There is a clear tactical advantage to grouping together as authors.
Warmed and Bound
is a collaborative effort and for many of these guys and gals it’s a blessing to have had everyone else on board.

A good use of the internet

This is related to the last point but distinct. The Velvet is an online writers’ community. That’s how a lot of these people met. If you google “the velvet” you’ll find it easily. They keep a precise record of their members’ new publications. They congratulate each other for their successes, but they don’t kiss each other’s asses. It’s a productive and friendly environment. Having that kind of online presence is an important ingredient, because it provides a central hub where you can find out information about the
Warmed and Bound
authors without clicking on a million links. There’s also a site dedicated exclusively to
Warmed and Bound
and it’s attractive, informative, and up-to-date. These things matter.

The quality of the physical product itself

Good covers sell books, and
Warmed and Bound
has a great cover. It’s also printed on a suspiciously nice “velvety” kind of paper… If you really want to sell a book, you need to put a lot of thought into its presentation. That, too, is often neglected by indie publishers. One of the
Warmed and Bound
contributors, Bradley Sands, has published books with really fantastic, funny cover designs. They aren’t bland, they aren’t tacky, and they convey the kind of wackiness you’ll find in the pages they hold together. Holding the
Warmed and Bound
anthology is a pleasure as well. Little things, man. They matter.

Podcasts

If you look around, you’ll find podcasts with many of the authors. If you aren’t invited onto Oprah’s book club, podcasts are a good alternative for letting your readers hear your voice, making them figure out if they like your style, and letting them decide if they’re willing to buy your book. The more authors involved, the more podcasts. That’s a good formula.

Humility

I’m going to let the
Warmed and Bound
editor, Pela Via, show how to do it. I asked her if she’d learned anything from the ordeal that she wanted to share. “Yes. That start to finish, everything takes six times longer than will make sense to me. A hundred things can cause delays; what I never would have predicted was that good things also cause delays. Unforeseen opportunities, such as contributions from Steve Erickson and Brian Evenson and others. Lastly, that you get lucky or you don’t. I believe
Warmed and Bound
has been the product of lucky timing. To have this many people in love with the same thing at the same time has been amazing. I will never take that part for granted. And I am nothing but lucky to have been involved.” Of course, she’s right — this has had a lot to do with lucky timing. But it’s also proof that lucky timing is not enough; you need a realistic vision, a lot of work, strong stories and attention to the physical product if you want a serious chance at having the kind of welcome that
Warmed and Bound
has enjoyed.

I would suggest the future of indie publishing depends on projects like
Warmed and Bound
— I can’t imagine that everyone will always be this lucky, of course, but when it works, it works wonderfully. I can’t think of a more inspiring way to prove that people are still reading.

Phil Jourdan
Interviews
Pela Via

Originally published 8.10.11 on PAJourdan.com

PHIL JOURDAN: What policies did you, as an editor, have to enforce as you were working on
Warmed and Bound
? 

PELA VIA: My standard for quality was weirdly high—I think more than a few jaws hit the floor upon reading my responses to their stories. Whether it was an in-depth critical look at the story itself, or line-by-line notes, or full essays on the use of a single word, we were talking it out.

PHIL: Given the nature of the book — a collaboration between so many writers who also consider themselves friends — did you find it necessary to impose a few rules (on yourself or on the contributors) to make the process run as elegantly as possible? 

PELA: Yeah. The important thing for me, though, was that these are my peers; I don’t know more than they do about writing. But I know
them
. With a small handful of exceptions, I know their work intimately, and if their talent wasn’t on clear and present display, in both a distinctive voice and well-crafted story, we weren’t moving forward. In some cases, we started with a new story. Or three. Till any reader could pick up the work and know immediately why these guys are so special to me.

PHIL: Did you have to be a “bad guy” at times?

PELA: Yes, I was the bad cop at times. But I’m forever in their debt. So grateful they let me do my thing. It was unspoken but fairly obvious some of the changes I requested were imperceptible. But when you have 38 stories held to a very particular standard, the book itself then has a chance to become greater than the sum of its parts. That’s what most of us aim for in our own work and is for me a theme in The Velvet itself.

PHIL: How did you go about doing the technical side of stuff, like formatting?

PELA: I used InDesign to typeset the book. I learned a little more about typography, which is always fun.

PHIL: Was it difficult to deal with the printers? 

PELA: We used Lightning Source for printing and distribution. They can be difficult, sure. They handle large-volume publishing. And their reps may be stretched a little thin. But their product quality is high; we endured a few hiccups for that alone.

PHIL: Did you have to hunt for a particular kind of paper that you wanted? 

PELA: I guessed. The first proof looked terrible. Cover art was like a blurry photo on vellum. We decided to switch to glossy, since the image itself is a scanned glossy photo. But I couldn’t let go of the very appropriate ‘velvety’ feel of the matte. So, last minute, we enhanced the contrast and sharpness of image, and went with the matte.

PHIL: Who had the final say in these matters? 

PELA: Logan Rapp had the final say, definitely. But we work exceptionally well together; I didn’t want his job, his responsibility for The Velvet and the press at large, he didn’t want mine, with the production of the anthology, and what consequently developed was this immense respect for each other. And we got lucky; we never disagreed about individual decisions. Our taste in books, cover art, ad copy, etc. couldn’t be more similar. The only thing we ever struggled with was the timeline. I would come out of some week-long sleepless editing binge and freak out in his general direction about deadlines, PR or some other hallucination. And he had to learn how to sedate me, which is quite an art form in his hands. But discussions about the book itself were quick, ‘I’m thinking this, you?’ and ‘Yep.’

PHIL: Who is behind the cover illustration?

PELA: We wanted Boden Steiner for the cover art but our timing was all wrong there. Our second choice was to use a photo, which is how we involved photographer Chelsea Kyle. When our photo looked a shade too sexual for this book, I whined to my husband. He took a copy of the photo outside, returned two minutes later and it was perfectly distressed. I scanned that then played in Photoshop till the day I was forced to stop, lay out the copy and send it off to print. (Gordon Highland was part consultant, part exorcist, though the whole process.)

PHIL: You've no doubt learned a lot of lessons from being on the editorial side of the process. Were there any surprises? Is there anything you wish someone had told you before you'd started?

Yes. That start to finish, everything takes six times longer than will make sense to me. A hundred things can cause delays; what I never would have predicted was that good things also cause delays. Unforeseen opportunities, such as contributions from Steve Erickson and Brian Evenson and others.

Lastly, that you get lucky or you don't. I believe
Warmed and Bound
has been the product of lucky timing. To have this many people in love with the same thing at the same time has been amazing. I will never take that part for granted. And I am nothing but lucky to have been involved.