story ammunition

the first magazines I have any memory of are The Reader's Digest, Better Homes & Gardens, and all the church periodicals that still pile up on our coffee table. I loved BHG the most. all those layered before-and-after pictures and the full-page shots of deliciously presented dinner tables, they translated so immediately into a lot of practical inspiration for our house. I watched my mother eye the rough floor plans, the paint colors, and the tutorials, jot down her own ideas on scraps of graph paper, and nurture those dreams with what-ifs. it is mostly torn pages from Better Homes & Gardens that lay neatly in so many stacked folders in my closet, waiting for the day when I have my own house and perhaps my own garden.

The Reader's Digest I remember skimming for the jokes. each month's issue would take me one half hour to pick clean. once, I sent my own in--some hilarious thing one of my little siblings said. I tore pages out of that one too. Somebody's clever illustrations and striking photographs are probably still sliding around in folders of their own.

then I grew up. I left a lot of these girlish collections behind, and I started working with Isotope.

Isotope isn't a magazine like the others. it's what you have to call an 'academic journal.' it rises above that sordid need for advertising by taking donations from those lovely academic people who care about saving a little place in print for literary nature and science writing. Isotope is not a magazine that you ever tear pages out of. I have three beautiful back issues keeping each other company on a shelf in the basement. they have my name in the cover. it was exciting to be a part of it. recently I've heard that Isotope is losing its funding from the university and may have to resign itself to a purely online existence. that will be better than nothing.

the fifth issue of Mormon Artist came out this week. this is my latest magazine fling. it does not have my name in the cover, but I am pleased to say that I did contribute, by editing transcripts of Ashley Pacini's interview with composer Rob Gardner and by typing a transcript of David Layton's interview with pianist/singer/songwriter Shaun Barrowes. you can read all about them over here. in classic me style, I envy everything Mr. Crowder is doing. it's exciting to be a part of it, however small.

so many decisions are pasted up on the walls of my mind, peering down, waiting for me to pick one. they seem so infinite, all these pages torn from dreams, from advice, from other people's lives. will any of these potential futures really fit into the way I want the story to go? I'm the one in charge, I guess. but all the pages seem out of order.

it's arabic, that word: 'makazin.' it means storehouse. we are saving up all these stories, pictures, recipes and commentary. then what? I wonder if when Edward Cave coined this particular usage of the word he was thinking of stories and pictures and news as ammunition. what are we fighting against? what are these weapons we store on paper going to do to our enemy? what will they do to us?

all the magazines I ever thought were cool (that I can remember at the moment):
BHG - RD - Ink - ALA - JPG - Isotope - How - MA