Hobart
is a national literary journal filled with remarkably good writing,
some from big names (Rick Moody, Aimee Bender) and most from small
(many, many). We emailed with recent Ann Arbar transplant Aaron
Burch about what it takes to start a literary journal, the mission
of Hobart, and life in Michigan.
Ann Arbor Paper: What is the story behind Hobart?
Aaron Burch: I was kind of bored, working at a
job I didn’t really like, and living in a new city where I
didn’t know too many people. I was also starting to do a little
writing and living with a house full of artists, and thought I’d
throw it all together on a website and try to convince friends to
write funny essays and reviews and stuff. Word spread a little and
people started sending me stuff here and there. I moved again to
somewhere where I didn’t know anyone and met a guy who was
also doing a little writing and we would get together, hang out,
read submissions, drink some beer, eat a bunch of Donettes, and
update the site. Word kept spreading, Hobart kept growing,
and through equal parts boredom, naive “I can do that”
attitude, a desire for a hobby that I could finance with my credit
cards, and blind ambition, I found myself putting out a print issue
and the copyright page had my name next to “editor.”
A2P: Do you have an editorial agenda?
AB: I don’t think I have an agenda, really.
In fact, I’ve fought the idea of having any kind of official
statement or a specific theme or style, not wanting to limit anything.
But, I think over time, it has grown into a personality of its own.
The one comment that seems to be repeated is something along the
lines of “writing that takes itself seriously but is not without
a sense of humor.”
A2P: You recently moved to Michigan. What was your first
impression?
AB: My experience with Michigan thus far has been
pretty Ann Arbor-centric and I seem to remember, when I first moved
here and told people that I’d just moved from Seattle, them
comparing the two cities in some way. Like, Ann Arbor is the Seattle
of the East, or something like that? But now I almost feel like
I’ve made that up, or maybe they made that up just to try
to make conversation. It kind of sounds like a weird thing to say,
now that I think about it, but I love Seattle, so it is a very positive
endorsement, I think.
A2P: What would be something that would make you
leave Michigan?
AB: My girlfriend breaking up with me?
A2P: What makes you start writing? Do you have
a ‘hey, there’s a story in this’ moment?
AB: Come to think of it, I think most of my stories
probably have started with some kind of a “that could be a
story” moment. But, for every story that started with such
a moment and continued from there, I’ve probably had another
hundred similar moments that, a day or two or week or however long
it takes me to come back to it, I think “what the hell made
me think there was a story there?”
A2P: Do you agree with the idea that there is only
one, or two, or seven, or other similar limited number of stories
to tell? If so, what are they?
AB: Not really, no. Although, I guess it could
come down to semantics. How does that saying go, that there are
only two kinds of stories? [grabbing the Anchor Book of New
American Short Stories.] A stranger comes to town or a person
goes on a trip? I guess if you want to be loose enough about the
definitions you could try to squeeze everything into one of those
two categories, but it doesn’t quite feel right, does it?
I actually just read this Anchor Book anthology and Ben Marcus says
in the introduction that that was what he learned in school, he
paid to hear that there were two kinds of stories. But I don’t
think he really agrees, and I’m going to go with Marcus. There
is also the maxim “there is nothing new under the sun”
and I’d almost kind of agree with that though too, that everything
is a new spin on an old idea. It sounds like a drinking game: pick
a story and try to fit it into one of those two categories.
A2P: What’s in the future for Hobart?
AB: The short but glib answer is, of course, lots!
I’m about a month away from putting out our 5th issue, our
first with a common theme: the Travel Issue. We’re also going
to start putting out “minibooks”: small, perfect bound
books you can slip in your pocket and read in an extended sitting,
or here and there. Somewhere between a really long short story and
a short novella. My girlfriend, Elizabeth Ellen, is heading that
up, and she’s a much better writer and editor than I, so I
have no doubts that it will take no time in kicking the lit journal’s
ass.
visit
www.hobartpulp.com
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