Fiction writers are notoriously verbose, so I’ll not take up too much (cyber)space with a lengthy letter from the editor. Having said that, I’d like to say a few things about Blood Lotus. First, I’d very much like to thank Stacia and Teneice for the truly wonderful opportunity to work with them on what has become a very fine literary webzine. I was lucky enough to have watched Blood Lotus burst from the soil and grow into the strikingly resplendent perennial it is today. It’s rare to find such a high quality online literary journal in today’s world wide web, where webzines propagate like dandelions. So, Stacia and Teneice, thanks for dreaming Blood Lotus and making it real.
It’s hard to name any aspect of our lives that hasn’t been touched, in some way, by the internet. Often the first order of business for the day is to check your email and scan the headlines, usually with quick, furtively guilty glances to see if your boss is coming. We’ve all gotten adept at minimizing an internet window on our desktop to hide the latest update on our favorite sites to avoid being discovered slacking off at work. It’s a terrible temptation, taking just a little peek at the internet . . . only to discover, hours later, that your eyes are bloodshot and you have carpal tunnel. The internet can be like crack-cocaine, doping the viewer into sedation much like its ancestor, the great American glass teat: television. It’s easy and convenient and free. In many ways, it’s better than TV—it’s interactive. More and more, we look to the internet to provide us with everything we need and want.
Art, thankfully, is no exception.
The internet has become an indispensable tool for the modern writer, offering everything from online dictionaries to lists of paying markets to online literary journals. In the beginning, online journals were a way of making the parent version, usually a well known print journal, more accessible and up-to-date. Rarely could you find all the journal’s content on the website, nor could find many webzines without a parent print version. Today, there are stand alone online literary journals without a parent print version that are just as good if not better than their print competitors.
Why?
Accessibility. The market is changing. Rapidly. While I don’t think print will ever be replaced or vanish—nor would I want it to—I do think that online literary journals are gaining respect among literary circles. Suppose you are published in a small but respectable print review. How many copies of your work are in circulation? Two hundred. Maybe five hundred. And where are they circulating? In some small coffee shop, being used as a coaster? In the periodicals section of your local community college, collecting dust? For the aspiring writer, that’s not going to cut it. You want your work to reach the largest possible audience, or else why write at all? The answer seems academic if not overly simple. The internet.
There are, of course, several potential problems with publishing on the internet. There’s the question of quality and the sheer number of webzines from which to choose. I’m not so terribly worried about this as I once was because, as with everything else, the cream always rises to the top. If the site looks like it’s not well put-together, if it’s not easy to navigate while pleasing to look at . . . chances are the content’s not any good either. Considering the number of sites out there, a viewer’s attention span is only that much shorter. A site that hooks the viewer and compels he or she to click on links and go deeper into that web page is one that will have success. So, editors of websites like Blood Lotus who put as much work into making our site navigable and aesthetically pleasing as we do selecting our content will continue to gain the kind of notoriety a print journal enjoys.
The second question is one of evanescence. If you’re published in a print journal, your work is nearly immortal, as long as somewhere, one issue of that print journal exists. Content online pops up one day and disappears the next. Which raises the question of archiving. An online literary journal has the ability to archive everything they’ve published (we're particularly proud of the BL archives, so check them out!), but will viewers with the internet and all the millions of websites available spend more time delving into the archives after reading the current issue? That’s a troubling question. How long will you story or poem last on the internet? What's better: more people viewing your work for a shorter period of time, or your work lasting longer but not being seen by nearly as many people? Maybe it’s a fair trade . . .
Lest you are still a disbeliever in the credibility of the internet as a promoter of great art, consider this: the NEA has recently updated their guidelines and are now considering online publications as 50% of the applicant's publishing credits. In other words, of the 20 pieces you must have published to be considered for an NEA grant in creative writing--a coveted and prestigious award--ten of them may now be online. This is a huge concession on the part of the industry to recognize e-journals as distributors of quality literature.
Accessibility and possibility. It may well be the internet’s saving grace, especially in these times of trouble when big business and politics (often the same thing) are looking to filter the internet into your hands by telling you which sites are good for you. Network Neutrality is under attack as we speak. Congress is pushing a bill that would allow the big internet providers to control what websites you view. You can learn more about this and what you can do to stop it at www.savetheinternet.com. Best, John |