https://duotrope.com/duosuma/submit/the-aftershock-review-RV8pF

In many ways Aftershock saved my life.

And with that hook, I thought maybe you would like to know a bit more about the day-to-day processes.

I have rested... And by rested I mean I got a proof of Psychosis and Our Other Madnesses sent to the printers. Last night I couldn’t sleep, so I lay in bed typesetting what I hope is close to a finalised arc of poems for Dirty Laundry, with sections just like the mainline issues, including one called The Trough(!), while three of the four cats decided it was their time to be InDesigners too. Sometimes resting for me is actually working. But I’m not really ready to be around people much yet.

I’ll send acceptances and declines as soon as everything is fully set in stone. After that I plan to take an actual rest, and then Issue Three will become the focus. It does mean that Issue Three might nudge into the middle of April in terms of when it’s actually released, though.

Some things you might find interesting about how all of this works.

The Pocket Aftershocks are something I’ve been especially excited about making. Each has an ISBN, so bookshops should be able to order them, as well as readers buying directly from us. This hopefully will be a test for future expansion for this “little magazine with a life-changing impact”, as the Guardian once called us: mainline issues available as cheaper international editions for those abroad, and through bookshops in the UK too if I get my ducks in order. Might even put a big ‘sticker’ on the cover.

Later this year we’ll release another Pocket Aftershock called Ecoshock, which will focus on shared and personal experiences of ecological and climate trauma.

Obviously the magazine has wonderful co-editors, and each Pocket Aftershock has its own editor selecting work. But when it comes to the day-to-day mechanics of making the thing exist: admin, emails, InDesign, Duotrope, ISBNs, designing covers, typesetting, printer files, marketing, social media, Substack, billboards, so much other stuff... that’s me. Usually peeking out from inside my duvet, nuzzling cats, drinking tea.

Staying sober. Staying alive.

(Apart from when Alec Newman steps in to save my arse with typesetting issues and especially the electronic versions making them fully/mostly accessible.)

There isn’t a design agency or a big production office somewhere behind the scenes. It is me, with a tiny tiny team. And a lot of love and support.

ADHD hyperfocus means that on a good day I can lock in and do a week’s work in a single stretch. But it also means if I can’t, it can sometimes feel like nothing can get done at all.

I’m also the one sticking the envelopes, packing the mags, walking to the post office with parcels and sending them out into the world. We don’t have a distributor. But so far we’ve reached over 89 local authorities, four continents, and something like 40 countries in one year. The Substack has been read in 29 US states the last time I looked at the stats.

This whole thing exploded. A year ago it hadn’t even got funding yet. And I’ve worked close to 70-hour weeks since then. Because I love it. A lot. How could I not?

By April I will have published close to 200 poets.

A year ago I said an aftershock was coming. And it did. In so many weird and wonderful ways. If you’ve been reading, submitting, sharing, thank you! It’s everything to me. Aftershock means I am no longer just an ex-addict or trauma survivor (ok, that one I still am) but a publisher. For better and worse.

The thing is, the aftershock will always continue. Day by day. Ripple by ripple. Poem by brilliant poem. And page by page.

Max xxx

PS this is the first of the ‘Aftershock Annotations’ - this one is free, but the ones later on will be paywalled if you want to hear about life behind the keyboard.

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