spotlight on sheila ashdown

To coincide with the release of issue #3 of the Ne'er-Do-Well Literary Magazine, I thought it would be fun to do an Employee Spotlight display on publisher Sheila Ashdown, who is also not only a writer herself but a member of the marketing department for Powell's Books. [i also thought it would be fun since i happen to have an essay in #3...] I loved the answers she gave me to my interview questions, especially the one about whether she'd had any particular experiences or made any discoveries as she sifted through submissions for this latest issue, which is subtitled Working-Class Stories and, according to the press, "casts a fresh light on the absurdity, banality, and redemption of contemporary wage-slavery."



In a a blog post about the issue, she wrote: "Your job might seem as boring as a rock, but lift up that rock and the soil beneath is probably teeming with the stuff of stories."

[ooh! wiggly!]

Here's the interview. You can find the display [plus copies of all three issues, plus copies of the Ne'er-Do-Well's two-color, limited-edition poster] on the Mezzanine at Powell's City of Books.



What is your position for Powell’s and how long have you worked here?
I've worked for Powell's for three years, first at the customer service desk at the City of Books, and now as a marketing coordinator for Powells.com.

What inspired you to publish a literary magazine?
My first inspiration was altruistic: I love helping writers shepherd their work into the world. There are a lot of lit mags out there, but there are far more good writers who are struggling to get published in a tight market. I figured one more publishing outlet would be a good thing.

My second inspiration was selfish: I was sick of sitting on the publishing sidelines, where my role was almost completely passive: submitting my work to other people's magazines and waiting for them to pass judgment—or, "ordering some rejection letters," as my friend Kelly says.

What inspired the Ne’er-Do-Well theme behind it?
I was a middle-school misfit. Seriously, that's pretty much the basis of my literary aesthetic. I love stories that explore the experience of being an outsider, but are also able to showcase our shared humanity.

I love the idea of gathering working-class stories into one volume. Did you have any particular experiences / make any particular discoveries choosing these pieces?
It was an eye-opening experience. While most of the stories in this issue are written by members of our Powell's union (we have a wealth of talented writers who work here), I also took submissions from the general public—and I was floored by the stark difference between the two. The submissions I got from non-unionists generally portrayed the working class as lazy, shifty, drug-using, and trashy. It was extremely disheartening! Luckily, there were enough proud working-class writers out there to supply me with the smart, fun, heartening stories that ultimately made it into the magazine.

What is your favorite aspect of publishing a literary magazine?
I love connecting with people, and frequently find myself overwhelmed with gratitude for those who volunteer their stories, time, brainpower, and enthusiasm to the magazine. When I was putting together this latest issue, I seriously had a few sleepless nights where I was just too keyed up with gratitude to calm down and fall asleep. It's such a positive and empowering experience.

Which book has made a profound impression on your life?
Virginia Woolf's A Room of One's Own. I read it at a very formative time in my life, when I was just starting to take myself seriously as both a writer and a feminist. Obviously, some of its lessons aren't applicable to a 21st-century gal, but I often invoke its spirit when I need a reminder to focus my energy on my own writing.

And then there's Denis Johnson's Jesus' Son, which totally lit my eyeballs on fire.

What are you reading right now?
Right now, I'm reading The Whore's Child: And Other Stories by Richard Russo. That man is a god. He can create the most captivating story out of the most subtle situation.

Are you willing to identify a cheesy book that you like?
I'm fascinated by self-help books, though I'm slightly embarrassed to admit it. The one self-help book that I actually own is Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway by Susan Jeffers. It's all about taking risks and making "no-lose" decisions. It blew my mind.

As a writer yourself, what is your ultimate goal in your writing life?
My ultimate goal is two-fold: to write as much authentic, well-crafted fiction as I possibly can—and hopefully get some of it published.

ne'er-do-well working class stories

The #3 issue of the Ne'er-Do-Well Literary Magazine is out. Just. It hasn't quite reached Powell's but is on its way. I'm looking forward to getting my contributor's copy and reading all the "working class stories" in this special edition whose proceeds benefit the strike fund of the International Longshoreman and Warehouse Union. The magazine is edited by Sheila Ashdown and includes writing by, among others, Willy Vlautin (Motel Life, Lean on Pete) and Kevin Sampsell (A Common Pornography). Check out this cool wrap-around graphic created for the cover by artist Christina Mackin.



Here's a quick excerpt from my story "Sylvester." I cut out a bit of a middle part to keep it short...

*

I never knew who I’d get from week to week. Town to town. In Wichita, it might be four guys who never said a thing and the only way I knew they were listening was by watching the spotlights sweep, on my cue, from juggler to high wire. In Omaha, it might be four guys who talked nonstop through the performance, their voices loud through the earphones of my headset, making bets on whether the trapezist would make the triple somersault and cracking lewd jokes about the thirteen-year-old girl riding the elephant. Our circus didn’t have a regular team of spotlight operators. We only had a lighting director—me—and we picked up a new crew of spot ops from the stagehand’s union in each city.

There were generally four spotlights in each arena we played, so there were generally four spotlight operators to man them. They were way up there, stationed along the catwalk at just about the ceiling. Meanwhile, I sat at my light board, down on the arena floor, sidled up to center ring where I was in constant danger of being trampled by elephants or peed on by tigers. But to me, it was those guys up there on the catwalk who were brave. I couldn’t even see them. Glance up in the middle of the show, through the arena darkness, and at each corner of the building all I saw were the white glows of their spotlights, like nickels flashing in a glint of moon.

I controlled the spotlights by speaking commands into the headset.

“Stand by to hit Bulgarian acrobats in Ring Three — flood and cover… and… go.”

Even with all the hoopla — jugglers tossing fire torches right in front of me, the ringmaster calling theatrical strings of alliteration into his microphone, the thud of elephant feet resonating through the floor and vibrating up through my shoes — it was easy to detach and feel like nothing but a voice, floating through that wide space, bouncing from one corner of the arena to another.

And spot op voices bouncing back. Telling secrets in our parallel universe...