Interview: Cavan Terrill

Our guest today is Cavan Terrill. He is the editor of Fusion Fragment, a Canadian short fiction magazine. Their first issue is out now, and it comes with a giveaway. For the writerly types, keep your eyes on the submissions page and be sure to follow Fusion Fragment on Twitter. Without further ado, let's get to the interview.

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Interview with Cavan Terrill

Alexandra Seidel: Hi, Cavan, and thank you for agreeing to the interview. You’re the editor of Fusion Fragment, a Canadian Magazine of speculative fiction. Before we get into that, tell us a bit about yourself.

Cavan Terrill: By day I work in healthcare IT specializing in patient intake forms, so I’ve spent the last couple of months helping develop a lot of COVID-19 screening questionnaires and education forms for patients. Everything before that sort of feels like a weird dream right now, which I’m sure is the same for a lot of people. These days I’m mostly staying sane by reading a lot and window-shopping vacations for whenever we’re allowed to go outside again.

AS: Wow. I admire the fact that during this crisis, you are still finding the time to put out a magazine! But Fusion Fragment isn’t new, right? You brought it back to life. Could you tell us about that and let us know what kind of venue Fusion Fragment was, is, and what you hope it will be?

CT: I started Fusion Fragment back in 2007, shortly after I’d finished university. I’d started a small publishing company and was interested in having a short-fiction market to feed into regularly published anthologies. None of those anthologies ever happened, though, and Fusion Fragment became the focus of all my editing efforts. At the time it was a very small market that only paid a token amount, but I was shocked at how often great stories would come my way. Knowing how many great stories out there never get the visibility they deserve played a big role in my decision to relaunch the zine.

As for what it is and will be, I’d love to say that I have some grand vision in mind. The truth is I just love being able to give great fiction a good home. If someone happens to pick up an issue and finds a story they like or a new author to follow, that’s all I’m after.

AS: I think bringing great fiction into the world is a good enough reason, and oftentimes smaller magazines offer a place for interesting stories that may not be a good fit for other places. But for the writers out there, can you tell us a bit about what kind of things you like, what you just can’t get enough of as an editor?

CT: I’m generally a lot more interested in characters than I am in concepts, so I find myself often drawn in by quiet, thoughtful stories that spend a lot of time developing a strong central character. Cyberpunk, post-apocalyptic and near-future SF stories are generally the easiest sells for me, but then again only two of seven stories in the first issue fall into those categories, so it gives you some idea as to how much weight I give to any specific subgenre.

I also tend to lean towards longer pieces that take their time in developing the narrative. There’s lots of great markets out there that focus on shorter-form pieces, but the sweet spot for me is usually in the 8,000-15,000 word range.

AS: In terms of genre, what will you consider? Only science fiction, or are you open to some fantasy as well?

CT: I expect I’ll stay squarely in the science fiction domain, but I’ve also learned to never say never. For example, if you’d asked me a couple months ago if I’d be publishing any vampire fiction, I’d have said no, and yet I’ve got a vampire piece lined up for the second issue. So, I’d say that fantasy would be a difficult sell for me, but not necessarily an impossible one.

AS: Science fiction and fiction in general tends to change with the times. Do you see anything that has changed in the kinds of stories you received back when you first started Fusion Fragment and the ones writers sent in for your relaunch?

CT: The most significant change that struck me was a tonal one. As a whole, the submissions I read this year were a lot more optimistic in tone than those from the zine’s original run. The world’s a lot grimmer than it was ten years ago and I think a lot of people are writing against that and trying to envision more positive futures.

AS: Let’s talk about readers; why should people come and read Fusion Fragment? How would you pitch the zine?

CT: My pitch is a straightforward one: Quality character-driven speculative fiction.

AS: Cavan, thanks for joining us for this interview!

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Fusion Fragment is a purveyor of fine speculative fiction. Follow Fusions Fragment on Twitter and grab an issue from the store.

Guest Post: Why I Read Submissions, Anna Madden

This week, our guest is Anna Madden, who is a writer and First Line Reader for DreamForge. She shares with us why she started to read submissions, and what it has taught her about reading, writing, and rejection.

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Why I Read Submissions

by Anna Madden

When I first started reading submissions, or slushing, I was second-guessing the editor’s decision. I didn’t feel I had earned the right to judge other writers, whether they were hopeful newcomers or those already established in their craft, their prose like shining gems. Not to mention the gods, floating high above, untouchable with their numerous publishing credits and recognizable names.

I saw myself both as an imposter and a dream crusher. I spent so much time agonizing about ratings and comments I had given out. Who was I to decide the fates of these creations?

It took a while to quiet the voice of doubt. My ratings were being checked, so I could learn the system and breathe. I realized it was okay to call for backup if a story was more difficult to rate. If a well-known writer submitted in, I learned to voice my honest opinion, whether I liked their work or not, and not fear my hand would get smacked or that I would be accused of blasphemy.

For some stories, reading a couple pages is enough to know it’s not ready for publication. I started to find patterns like this. Still, I also started realizing it wasn’t so black and white as: this submission is badly written and this one is brilliant. There will be unlikable main characters, average, not-quite memorable plots, or too much telling. Those same stories can showcase a creative world or a unique conflict. All fiction tends to a strength and a weakness. Good stories have multiple strengths. I think the real question being asked is: do the strengths outweigh the weak spots?

The truth is, the competition is so intense. There are unarguably great writers who receive rejections right alongside the rest. There isn’t a golden rule that says a good story will automatically be accepted. There are only so many slots and so much money. A submission might make it into the consideration pile, then have the bad luck of being too similar to something else submitted three days later, or just not be quite what the editor is looking for at that moment. I’ve grieved over stories that received rejections, and I’ve fought for them (civilly, of course, without drawing blood).

Before I read submissions, I did wonder, what are the reasons for rejection? It’s not a simple answer because it varies from one piece to another. Something might be well-written but not quite on theme for the publication. Several first readers might agree about how beautiful the prose is, but the voice could be too passive or the ending too flat. The list goes on and on.

At first, I thought this job would be an opportunity to improve my own writing. It has been, but it’s offered many other benefits I hadn’t originally considered. I’ve met other writers who read submissions alongside me. I’ve networked with them, exchanged work, and built friendships. A peek behind-the-scenes made me realize first readers are humans rather than robots out to destroy souls. Often, I like something in each piece I read. One writer will have an obvious gift for voice, another for world-building, and so forth. The beauty of it all, for me, is getting to see the process up close.

My Top Five Tips:

1. Read examples of the publication to get idea of what is being selected.

2. This seems an obvious one, but follow the submission format requested. If a story is difficult to read it earns a quicker no.  

3. Work on a good opening hook. Beginnings are so important! I stop when I know the story isn’t right. It is often by page two to three.  

4. If feedback is given, chew on it. I get rejections too, and I know it’s rough in the moment. Still, it’s a gift, because it’s invaluable advice on where to improve. It’s meant to aid, not to chide.

5. Keep positive, be professional, and keep submitting! A publication might reject one story, then select another at a later date.

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Anna Madden is a speculative fiction writer living in Fort Worth, Texas. In her free time, she loves to garden too, and has been planting new roses into her flower beds faster than she can find space for them. Her slush experiences come from being a first line reader for DreamForge Magazine, where she also has fiction published in Issue 4 (Dec 2019). Follow her on Twitter, like her Facebook page or visit her website.

Guest Post: On Being One Space Among Many, Ranylt Richildis

To start things off here at The Wicked Writing Corner, we asked Ranylt Richildis, editor of the wonderful Lackington's Magazine, to talk to us about what it means to run a magazine and what it meant to her to create Lackington's. If you want to support the magazine, go here. Be sure to read some of their stories and admire the artwork that accompanies these strange and wondrous tales. The zine is named after James Lackington. The next Lackington's Issue, Cocktails, is scheduled for release in May/June.

UPDATE: Ranylt blogged about blogging here, so if you like a reading experience that's just a tiny bit meta, we got you covered.

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On Being One Space Among Many

By Ranylt Richildis

James Lackington (Wikimedia Commons)

Scroll through SFF Twitter and it’s all there: the challenges of publishing in an overcrowded and underfunded field. Editors, agents, and writers reliably dole out advice, often with fantastic and heartbreaking wit. Attend any SFF conference panel related to publishing, and you’ll get more of the same. So there’s no wisdom left for me to unearth about launching a short fiction magazine or putting together an issue of SFF tales. It’s been said, and likely said better than I could.

This is the thing about publishing—and writing. We like to believe our words or ideas are fresh, but of course they rarely are. Back in the day, the value of art didn’t rest on originality but on execution (Google “Amleth,” one of the most famous examples of this in the English-speaking world). But we’re still clinging to the column of Romanticism in 2020, and its idolized individual, and that can compromise our vision at times. Make us think we’re unique when we aren’t. Make us boastful.

When I launched Lackington’s in 2013, I dearly wanted to claim a unique vision. I vaunted a space where experimental, challenging, and prose-poetry tales got the welcome-mat rather than the side-eye. I understood those kinds of stories were being published elsewhere—that other SFF mags did run experimental and poetic pieces that were harder to place in more commercial venues. And yet that individualistic surge half-convinced me Lackington’s was different. I wonder if, in proclaiming the magazine’s mission, my words may have come off like an effacement of existing publications? I don’t want to glance back at that initial marketing push, because they probably did. The work our own magazine has done over the last 6 years has been effaced by the mission statements of newer venues, so that’s my comeuppance, I suppose.

If you’re lucky, as a writer, you’ve found a network of support among your peers. If you’re lucky as an editor or publisher, you’ve also found the same: each venue recognizing the good that others have done, and sharing in the progress (any damn progress) that publishing makes. Communitarianism is a finer goal than some elusive difference, and what you do is worth a hundred times anything you might tweet. Am I being a bit of a scold? I think I am. Am I preaching something novel? Not in the least, and other publishers know it. If there’s one truth about running an SFF magazine, it’s that lessons will be learned and humility acquired.

All of this to say: While Lackington’s isn’t the only market that welcomes off-template prose and structures, that reserves space for neglected voices from around the world, and that does its best to shield contributors from this sometimes-unkind industry, it’s always been our focus and it’s blazoned in our record (all this talk about the fallacy of difference, too, from an editor who hungers for the odd). As a reader, I enjoy transparent prose that gallops a plot from A to Z, but I love stylized prose and departures from the 20^th-century, three-act, hook-em-at-line-one model. Stories are more fascinating to me, and amaze me with their deftness, when they can grab a reader despite breaking those workshop rules. So to every iconoclast with a keyboard or cherished fountain pen, keep sending your untraditional tales our way (and to other magazines that feel the same). They stand a very good chance of being noticed.

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Ranylt Richildis is a Canadian writer, editor, and teacher. Her fiction has appeared in PodCastle, The Future Fire, and Imaginarium 4: The Best Canadian Speculative Writing, among other SFF magazines and anthologies. Ranylt is the founding editor of Lackington’s Magazine, an online SFF venue devoted to stories told in unusual or poetic language. She tweets @ranylt.