Why We Built an Artistic Cooperative

From the Editor's Desk

In three days, Pulp, Pipe, & Poetry Magazine (P3) will turn one month old. In such a short amount of time, my partners and I have been having too much fun writing, publishing, and chatting with readers of our work. P3 is currently a magazine on Substack that serves to entertain readers in the same style and tradition as the pulp writers did of the golden age of pulp fiction, and I hope that we can help not only revive that tradition, but truly build something special for readers to enjoy. 

There are other great, independent publications that are much older than us that are doing quite well in the pulp space. And while we have thrown our hat into the ring, I think there is an opportunity to build something truly unique. 

On Stubborn Optimism

You don’t have to go too far on the internet to find doom and gloom; political narratives, social division, culture wars, and other boring topics that I will not mention here. 

I’m a stubborn optimist. One who looks to the future as a blank canvas to add bits of color. I can’t pretend to know what the future holds or drop new, hot trends that will gain traction ten years from now. Nostradamus I am not. But I think there is something to be said about the unique position that P3 is in. We are made up of five creative minds that share similar values and ethics regarding fiction writing and art. In forming a magazine together, we’ve also created an artistic cooperative where each man owns his work (stories, characters, etc)  that is published under a unified label. I like to think of Image Comics, where comic book artists and writers developed their own properties and used the company’s resources to publish and bring them to market. 

Rather than going your way as an independent creative, figuring out logistics, craft, business, marketing, and publishing, a cooperative gives a ragtag group such as our own enough weight and power to make a splash in a short amount of time that will only continue to build.

Or as my P3 partner and friend,

Zack Grafman

put it so eloquently in his excellent essay The Creator Economy Enters Stage 2,

“ A loosely affiliated band of solo creators animated by shared vision and organized under a flexible brand of sorts suddenly enjoys many of the advantages collectively of more traditional publishing house or record label models while still maintaining all of the freedom, flexibility, and creativity of the dreamiest versions of the solopreneur ideal. Three to five members of such a squad can produce at a prolific pace that would kill any one of them who individually attempted it. They are able to combine their skills and predilections when it comes time to parcel out the administrative tasks of editing, formatting, marketing, and planning that often stall solo creators. As any attention and recognition is gained by the individual members, it in theory opens doors and provides new opportunities for every member. A rising tide doesn’t always lift all boats, but the chances might improve if you built an artistic ark.”

The Creator Economy Enters Stage 2

Artistic Despair is Not Sexy

I’m not sure when the idea of “struggling for one’s art” became romanticized; the idea that making art must be painful, that you simply bleed into your typewriter. The idea that you must sweat and suffer to create something good and beautiful never really sat well with me. 

Sure, making art can be a cathartic release, a place where you let your fears and anxieties out to dry. I remember having tears running down my face when writing a flash fiction story about a father’s battle with depression and suicide when on the night of his attempt is interrupted by his little boy who cannot sleep and wants to play with him. In the end, the father chooses to live instead and play with his boy. 

That father is me.

Writing can serve this purpose to help heal and in the moment of darkness can, indeed, something wonderful be born. But is crippling depression the prerequisite for being a genius artist? Can good writing only be written in the blood from your veins? Some people believe this garbage. They look down on the Nora Roberts, the Max Brands, the Tolbot Mundys, and Stephen Kings that write popular fiction.

No, no, no! Not real art. It just can’t be!

These doom dorks take pleasure in dunking on popular fiction from successful pros and bestsellers, calling them sellouts, hacks, or what have you. But why? Hitting "bestsellerdom" does not make one a talentless hack, no more than being a self-hating, chain-smoking, bullet-eating manic depressive makes one a brilliant, but misunderstood artiste. This has to stop.

No doubt this essay will ruffle some feathers, but believe me when I say – my goal is not to make enemies. I truly believe one can produce something beautiful in any shape or form. Whether it is something that is written for you, the writer, in private as a form of therapy, or for an artistic collective of your best friends who often compete over who has the best story. It doesn't all have to be sad.  Maybe this group has a friendly competition of who bought the most vintage paperbacks for the least amount of money, or maybe they geek out over adventure stories from Jules Verne and H Rider Haggard, or maybe you just have this personal philosophy that artistic despair is not sexy.

To me, art is whatever you make it to be. There are no hard and fast rules. I write because it is fun. After all, I get to play pretend as a thirty-year-old man, because I’m fascinated with the times we are in regarding independent publishing. 

Because I’m bullish on the future of artists. 

On the Road Ahead

I’m 100% bullish on the future of artistic communities. The very nature of what P3 is building can and should be a model for other scrappy, startup-style cooperatives. Where small groups of passionate creatives meet (or chat) together, share their work, and use their collective energies to build a body of work and publish together. We were not the first to invent this enterprise, nor are we the only ones around. The Soaring Twenties Social Club was born from the mind of Thomas J Bevan, who is quoted saying “The internet is our Paris” in this new decade of soaring twenties. 

The road to being a writer or an artist is often lonely – but it doesn't have to be.

Publishing independently does not only give you the freedom to publish what you want when you want, but it has the added benefit of attracting like-minded individuals who appreciate your style and work. You meet incredible people on the way and form wonderful friendships that act as your support system in this lonely internet world.

 When I proposed the idea to my partners of publishing a magazine, the enthusiasm was so strong that we prepared everything in less than 48 hours. Logo, mission statement, catalog of work, everything! It was (and still is) all in good fun. We have so much planned for the rest of 2023, including reviving old pulp genres (air adventure stories anyone?), serialized fiction, hiring illustrators, and so much more that I will save for another time.

The future is bright because we choose to build it. The partners and I at P3 are having such a blast creating stories, building worlds, writing poems, and talking music/film, that we are too busy to notice the dark clouds brewing outside. 

Besides, we’d much rather play in the rain.