So this afternoon, my friend and colleague, the lovely and talented author, Jacqueline Roth, and I were talking about the difficulty of making a living as a writer these days because of the economy when Jae gave me some very disheartening news. Realms of Fantasy Magazine, of which I have been a lowly reader only (despite several attempts to sell them my brilliance,) for the last ten years or so, is going under. Their final publication is at the printer now, and will hit the shelves next month. Woe is me. That hit me pretty hard, considering one of my goals in life was to have a story published in that magazine, preferably in an issue that mentioned Neil Gaiman's name at least four times.
Now it will be gone, and one little dream will wither to ash. Lo, tho, I do digress... My disappointment is more sympathetic than anything, sympathetic to the other aspiring fantasy and sci-fi writers who will never see their name on the cover or their works in her pages.
I enjoyed the magazine overall, and it was still one of my goals to be published in its pages one day, but in truth the editorial choices for a lot of the stories printed these last few years have not really been that memorable, which is incredibly sad since I know there are literally thousands of talented sci-fi and fantasy authors out there submitting like mad. In fact, the last issue I purchased was only because my aforementioned brilliant author friend Jacqueline Roth's book was going to be advertised in its pages, and the stories in that issue... I think I remember one.
The thing that does make me incredibly sad is that there are already so few beautiful and glossy fantasy and sci-fi magazines as it is. Asimovs, Fantasy and Science Fiction and Analog often have better quality stories, but not near as many pretty pictures. It really is like watching a giant fall, and as I sat by last week and mentioned to my husband that I really didn't like many of the stories in "that magazine," I know I'm going to miss it when it disappears from the newsstand.
Times are changing. Coinciding with yesterday's epublishing post, with more and more people looking to the internet to publish their work, or actual magazines and papers moving to an internet audience to cut back on costs, it's only a matter of time before just about everything is electronic, and long gone are the days of hiking into the bathroom with a brand new issue of your favorite rag.
In more positive news today, I managed to send a poem out to Strange Horizons. Here's crossing my fingers. It's been 2 years since I had a poem published with them, and would very much like to end the poetry dryspell with a publication. I've made some progress on my novel, but have come into the tangled web of rewrite hell that warrants me to pick it apart like a quilter with a stitch-ripper tearing out a crooked patch. I know that in the end it will be worth it, but the process itself can be stressful.
So, as an outro to the demise of Realms of Fantasy, here is a guy on YouTube playing Cradle of Filth's "Swansong for a Raven" on piano. Anyone who ever said Cradle of Filth was untalented trash, as far as I'm concerned this is just testament to their incredible deity-like talent. No one makes music this melodic or complex anymore. NO ONE! And this guy does an outstanding job on the cover.