Tasmaniac Publications

Stephen Clark
December Guest Blogger

The holidays are in full swing, and here in the States winter is upon us, but our Second Tuesday Guest Blogger for December, Steve Clark will tell you we're all turned around, because it's Summer in his neighborhood! Yup, that's right, our new friend from Down Under is WAY down under in Tasmania, hence the name of his fine small press publishing company, Tasmaniac Publications. Now tell me, could there be any place better for a small press horror publisher to call home than Tasmania?

I recently received my copy of the long awaited Tasmaniac edition of Gary Braunbeck's, Midnight Museum. It's a lovely book, with work from Tom Piccirilli and Simon Clark slated for release in 2008. The exchange rate makes it affordable to shop direct from Steve even with the overseas postage (remember, shopping directly from the publisher usually helps the writers out, as well), but if you want a local venue for Tasmaniac books, keep an eye out at Bloodletting Press and the Horror Mall.

We're honored to have Mr. Clark with us as our guest, and we're very happy to be able to share his wisdom with you. Please give Steve a warm holiday welcome from wherever you are in the wild weathery global continuum. ~Fran Friel

From the car park I’m doing mental checks – remember to smile, but not like you’re crazy. Remember to mention the quotes. Don’t act too eager. Hand them the complimentary promotional material. Shoes look fine. Shaved. Presentable. Don’t waste your time with the staff go directly to the manager. Expect a tough sale. Remember to smile, but not like you’re crazy.

I’m no salesman. I have no ‘gift of the gab’, no confident swagger that can put strangers at ease. I’m just someone who believes in the wares he’s trying to sell.

From where I’m standing on the street, opposite to the bookstore I’m about to invade, I can see the last two decades as a progression to this moment. An avid reader, I tried science fiction, fantasy, true crime and other forgettable genres but there was only the one genre for me.

Many years ago I began scouring the second hand bookstores for back catalogs of the more ‘known’ authors, which then led me to main street bookstores where I could peruse over horror sections. This was in the late eighties/ early nineties when the majority bookstores carried their own horror sections (before they bled into general fiction). I found lesser known authors but with heaps of talent and began gathering their back catalogs. Suddenly I became aware of my urge to collect. Years went by and bookshelves were filled. I discovered the Internet and to sites that sold limited editions – I was hooked and became a collector to the more exclusive range of books. During this time, just before I opened a fresh package from a publisher, I often wondered what it would be like to be the one sending and not receiving. To have the ability of approaching an author you admired and commission them to write a fresh piece of fiction to the unsuspecting public was something that appealed greatly.

Time passed. My collection became a living organism. Old, withered editions were replaced with newer ones; whole ranges of authors I knew I wouldn’t read a second time were cut to make way for new authors. My passion made me feel alive and with purpose.

As well as reading I became quite experimental with another hobby – writing. I found it hilarious observing my wife’s expressions of disgust as she read my stories, that in itself were priceless, and furthermore, I really enjoyed creating my own characters, scenarios and consequences. I passed them around at work and was met with an opinion that ‘yeh, they were alright’ (for guys that stripped industrial furnaces that was high praise!).

I submitted to small press magazines, gathered a whole pile of rejection slips (that I’m extremely proud of!) and found some success along the way too. So I continued to write with the same passion I had to read…until one day, quite out of the blue, I decided to try my hand at publishing. After years of seeing the genre dwindle and disappear from the bookstores and being fully aware that there’s a new generation out there being denied access to many wonderful titles I had taken for granted, this was just something I had to do. I had to make my own small stand against all the hypocrisy that was beginning to strangle the genre I loved so much. Dark Fiction? A cop out description if I ever heard one! Why has the term horror suddenly become sub standard? As if it implies a lack of talent from the writer or intelligence from the reader. This suggestion falls in on itself with names that come to mind – Keene, Masterton, Clark, Lee, Braunbeck, Piccirilli, Lebbon – the list could go on and on. Consistently churning out quality, men and women of all ages buy their latest as ‘must have’ reads. So why have the stores adopted this blind disdain for the genre? I’m guessing the larger publishers and larger chain bookstores could cram a mile-high pile of correlated statistics down my throat to justify marketing strategy but it’s still gonna leave a bad taste in my mouth. I just love the genre and feel despondent over other people’s blinkered [blinders] views.

I began losing interest in walking around bookstores, asking where the horror sections were, in turn focusing my sole attention on buying books on-line. My saviour has been the small press. But now I’ve entered these bookstores again, these duplicated laid out stores that contain and display all the other genres with glee. I’ve brought my publishing company’s titles in the hope that I can convince a small change of heart; a little relent on the part of the proprietor whom I hope is a little intrigued with my passion.

I walk into the first store with purpose and head for the counter. How can they not stock my title? I ask myself. This is going to be the start of some kind of revolution! A young man senses my approach, raises his gaze to mine, and smiles. Can I help you? I return the offered smile and the spiel reels off my tongue with speed. I tell myself to slow down and continue on. He seems really impressed and looks as though he’s taking all the information in. I feel close to selling my product, in a store that has no horror section it’s looking promising. Unfortunately the next thirty seconds confirm my deepest fears. A ‘store uniformed’ lady approaches from my right, looks at the cover of The Lazarus Condition and asks what genre it is. I inform her the genre is horror. With her gaze still looking at the book she simply says, ‘no’ and walks away, never once actually looking at me. She simply walks away and begins tidying the rather large cookery section. I’m looking at her and then to the young man I thought I had, words escape me. The member of staff has an embarrassed look on his face and simply shrugs his shoulders. I’m afraid she is in charge of ordering books. His words register but feel they are not enough. I’m angry over this woman’s disregard. I want to walk over to her and state my many months of work and effort that’s been invested in this project – no, scratch that. I want to do some damage. I could pull over her sacred cookery section and hold everyone hostage (especially THAT woman) until the police negotiated a peaceful settlement. The anger in me willed it but what was the point. The time for selling had passed, I could see that so I simply collected my material back into the folder and walked out.

For a moment the streets looked different, the people walking past looked as though they knew what had just happened to me and still offered no words of support. The next bookstore was further up the street and I could clearly see their store frontage. I felt like going to a bar instead, any bar, just as long as they offered sympathy along with beers and shots. The store was smaller than the previous one, which didn’t boost my already dented confidence but I continued with the sales talk, my mask firmly in place. The owner of the store asked questions, I replied. He was impressed and made an order. It took me by surprise, my obvious relief made both he and his assistant smile. I walked out feeling a little better and redeemed my belief that independent booksellers can be approached and are willing to give the small press a chance. During the rest of my visits that day I knew what an uphill battle I was in for but my belief in what I’m doing has kept me going. Horror fiction in Australia deserves recognition. If bookstores stocked healthy sections of horror I’ve no doubt the genre would thrive. Intrigued customers would pick up fresh authors as I had done years previous. I can only do my small ‘King Canute’ part in trying to turn the tide by offering quality stories from some of the most exciting authors to emerge in recent years.

On the publishing side I’m pleased with the way Tasmaniac is going. I’m very proud to have worked with Paul Kane and Gary A. Braunbeck – both real friendly guys and easy to get along with. E-mail conversations feel like I’ve known them for years, that they’d be ideal fellow barflies who I could shoot the shit with in gloomy establishments whose patrons are as easy going and dangerous as a Redback spider on meth. Initial conversations with Pic and Simon Clark have given me that initial feeling too, though in truth I’ve had e-mail conversations with Simon for many years as he’s been one of my personal favourites (an author I ‘discovered’ from a store’s now obsolete horror section many years ago). I remember picking up his second novel release Blood Crazy from the shelf and thinking this sounds pretty good. It was more than good, it was bloody brilliant, and led me down the road to making sure I never missed a future Clark release.

Artists I’ve worked with have also earned my admiration. Conny Valentina illustrated Tasmaniac’s edition of Braunbeck’s, In the Midnight Museum and went beyond my expectations ten-fold. She’s such a talent and I hope we’ll hook up again on a future project.

I’m using a local printer and have somewhat of a rapport with them now – they know that I want to improve the production with each title and are very willing to meet any of my requests. It’s very handy to be able to browse through their paper inventory and judge each sample against another. Even handier if there’s a problem and I’ve only a thirty minute drive to get there.

My fight to enlighten a country’s preconceptions of what horror fiction can achieve will continue. There’s a hope to stay around for many a year, hope is good – now where have I read that?

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Publisher, Stephen Clark - Guest Blogger