Most writers don’t have a clear idea of what it’s like to work in publishing. The professionals who make publishing possible often work hard and without much credit. Our goal with this article, and all the articles in this series, is to give writers a more realistic idea of what it is actually like to be on the other side of the desk, and what it really takes to make a living (or part of one), in the publishing industry. We want to highlight how many people have very different roles on the other side of the desk, and how many of these roles don’t pay enough (or at all). Often authors can act (or feel like) agents and editors are the enemy, but often they are also writers themselves, and are equally familiar with rejection. We hope this series helps demystify what it is like to work in the publishing industry.
If you work in the publishing industry and feel like you are a good potential candidate for a future interview in this series, please send us an email at: submit@authorspublish.com. We are paying all contributors to this series, and the questions will be similar to the ones asked below. These are the questions we think readers most want to hear the answers to. If you have any additional questions you think should be added to the regular rotation, please let us know by sending an email to the same address.
For our eighth instalment of the series we are talking to Casey Aimer. Casey Aimer is a cyberpunk poet and editor who holds master’s degrees in both poetry and publishing. He works for a non-profit, publishing science research articles, and is founder of Radon Journal, an anarchist science fiction semi-pro zine. His poetry has been featured in Space and Time Magazine, Apparition Lit, Star*Line, Heartlines Spec, and many more. An SFWA and SFPA member, his work has been a Rhysling Award finalist and Soft Star Magazine contest winner. He can be found on Bluesky and CaseyAimer.com.
What is your primary role (in terms of the literary community), and how did you get it?
I serve as Founder/Editor-in-Chief of Radon Journal, a semi-pro publisher that focuses on science fiction, transhumanist, anarchist, and cyberpunk works.
The simple answer to how I got the gig is by having an idea percolate for a decade and then running with it until it became a reality.
But the real answer is longer and involves thirty years of starting writing and activist groups that failed and then learning what worked from them. Also self-publishing terrible sci-fi books on my own in high school and college to figure out the process, training to work on literary journals during my Poetry MFA, being a poet and novelist myself so I know how to treat authors, teaching university classes and learning how to share the excitement of genre art with people who don’t care, working for scientific journals to understand deadlines and planning ahead, reading genre fiction for decades to hone my editorial eye, and studying what the big leagues like Strange Horizons and AK Press do.
Essentially, being a publisher requires a multitude of skills. You piece them together from your life bit by bit until one day you realize you have the abilities needed to give readers a professional product, take good care of authors’ work, and stay sane while doing it.
Describe a typical day at the role.
A typical day features nothing but the journal on my mind until I am little more than a mixture of anxiety and hopeful plans.
But in all honesty, running a journal with set publication dates is unique in that there are never any lulls or rest periods. The nature of each day does change depending on what phase we’re in: production, launch, or post-launch (AKA reading period).
During reading periods:
– Sunday: Reading submissions and planning the weekly editor’s meeting.
– Monday: Organizing our Submittable queue for the week, writing interview questions, sending out contracts.
– Tuesday: Responding to authors and sending decision letters.
– Wednesday: Helping our Marketing Editor with author spotlight graphics for the week.
– Thursday: Updating our website with upgrades and new author interviews.
– Friday: Aiming to take a break and failing, usually reading ahead.
– Saturday: Pulling interview quotes and running a social media blast for our interviewee.
Add into each day a constant worry about how to reach readers, keep our socials alive, find funding, and think of new DIY marketing ideas that don’t require money.
In the month before launch, all editors add to their schedule detailed line and copy edits every night. And I find myself coding the site for 40 new web pages and working with the team to put together the final ePub/PDF product, planning launch events, and coordinating print and digital releases.
Lastly, all of this is typically done only after the day job finishes, during limited free time.
Still love it, though.
Does this role pay your bills?
Oh no, it’s always the other way around: My paychecks fund this role. And I work in the publishing industry, which is not known for paying well. But whatever is needed comes off the top of what I earn, as what we’re doing here is more important than I am.
The monetary situation of genre journals is well-known and well-trodden, so I won’t wax anti-poetic about it here. But as an anti-capitalist outlet, our focus was never on breaking even. It was on providing the best experience possible for readers and authors. A lot of journals pay that ideal lip service, but we made sure out the gate to have no ads, no sub fee, pay authors, respond quickly, be transparent, and support authors after publication.
We stand with the majority of the SFF field that submission fees are the mark of going about things wrong. Money should always flow from the publisher to the writer and never the other way around. Just put out a good and unique product and people will support you. If you have to nickel and dime writers, then you’re not trying to be a quality publisher; you’re just scamming young authors.
Radon is a not-for-profit journal and so we will never have positive revenue. Whenever we meet our fundraising goals through Patreon, we immediately put the money back into growing the journal. Last year we doubled our pay rates, and hopefully next time we can move to quarterly or raise our fiction word limit.
What is a common misconception people have about your work?
That editors spend most of their time editing. Industry-wide, we’re always doing a million other things. Only sometimes do we get to do the work we really love: sculpting words.
Most days, it feels like I’m more marketer than editor.
Lastly, some seem to have a misconception that editors are rooting against authors. The vast majority are rooting for every person that comes into their inbox. Editors want to publish and support you. But there are older editors who have had mental breakdowns from one too many authors not adhering to the submission guidelines and give the rest of us a bad name. We’ve all seen them before: The editors who write five pages of guidelines in all caps and threaten anyone who misses a single bullet point with rejection via the most venomous letter. If you see that sort of text, run away and find a better editor.
Have you ever considered quitting your role, and why?
I have not. Though my family has occasionally gotten perturbed by how much time I devote to the journal, it’s not something I would willingly give up. Editing and running a journal is everything I’ve wanted out of life. Well, almost everything.
The biggest danger for journal editors is burning out and growing too tired. A lot of editors only make it 4-8 years before their flame dies. I’m still in my early thirties with plenty of big ideas left. So I expect to make a long go of it like Neil Clarke.
What is the best part of your role?
Making authors happy, hands down. And providing a unique community that didn’t exist for radical writers before. Also watching careers take off from authors who submitted to us a year or two ago before making it big. Lastly, getting to revel in the nerdiest of passions with others has been a joy.
As a writer yourself, how does this work impact your creative writing?
It has simultaneously hampered and revitalized my own writing.
I am constantly inspired by our authors and the amazing ideas submitted to us. To be in the middle of such creative outpourings is akin to the post-SFF-conference high we all get.
But the time available for me to write has been reduced to mere minutes a day. There is always work to be done with a journal. One can always market more, post more, read more, edit more, design more graphics, offer more services, write more award nominations, etc. So taking the time to write has become difficult because it inherently feels like a selfish act that takes away from my family and from the authors who count on me.
But as writers, we know we’ll explode if we don’t get certain ideas down on the page. And so, every few days, I find myself writing a couple poems to relieve the screaming, traumatized voice in my head that demands to be heard.
