THE STAFF at BLASTGUN would like to welcome you to this website. Its production involved many curse words spiced with IKEA-level frustration, which is why it’s so gorgeous and forcing you to want to buy every book on the left sidebar–ahem–David Oppegaard’s AND THE HILLS OPENED UP would be a good place to start. It was put out by partner imprint BURNT BRIDGE, which BLASTGUN is a lot like. Where BURNT BRIDGE is a multi-genre pulp publisher that leans Weird Western, BLASTGUN is a multi-genre pulp publisher that leans Science Fiction. Think of us like BURNT BRIDGE, only with lasers instead of six shooters.
There are many lofty goals and dreams that THE EDITOR has for BLASTGUN, but as he gets older the more he realizes he has to be realistic. BLASTGUN will put out books when THE EDITOR gets the chance to do it, and he will write blog posts infrequently and of varying degrees of intelligibility. THE EDITOR has been pursuing projects like this for a long time. He knows how difficult it is, but this does not mean you should be a stranger to the site. Some things might surprise you.
Like this, BLASTGUN’s debut book MOKUMAN. Look at that thing. It’s got a giant freaking spider. We’re pumped about it. You should be too. It will be coming at you in June.
In the meantime, go here to buy AND THE HILLS OPENED UP. Publishers Weekly recommends it. BLASTGUN demands it.
BLASTGUN currently is not open to unsolicited manuscripts. This isn’t because BLASTGUN expects queries from agents. It’s because BLASTGUN happens to be run by THE EDITOR who has been standing near writers and actively engaging in what people might mistake for writing for quite a few years. He knows many writers who have works of fiction in the drawers of their desks that they have given up on because a LARGER AND MORE ESTABLISHED PUBLISHING NETWORK convinced them that the possibility of publishing such a work would be impossible and perhaps even a bad idea.
It is one of BLASTGUN’s core beliefs that some of the greatest works of fiction are also the most unmarketable and unsellable. In fact, BLASTGUN is pretty goddamn sure of itself in this regard. Therefore, BLASTGUN takes it upon itself to identify POTENTIALLY GREAT WORKS OF FICTION being written by POTENTIALLY AMAZING WRITERS who are out there pursuing this self-defeating career relentlessly, paying no mind to audience or how much respectability they lose every time they ask, yet again, on the Facebook or the Twitter that people read the work they created in their basement, all the while working some damn job so they could pay the outrageous printing fees at Kinkos so they could give their chapbook out to fifty people, half of whom will pick it up like it’s a mouse that died of asphyxiation under a pile of spaghetti on their dinner plate.
BLASTGUN likes these relentless folks. BLASTGUN really likes these relentless folks. BLASTGUN will find these folks and give them a generous offer that will not result in riches, but it will result in the book being available, at a fair price, to an audience willing to commune with the work they wrote, and hopefully that audience will pass along enough good will that the POTENTIALLY AMAZING WRITER does it again, this time bigger, better, and for a cash/money advance from a PUBLISHING OUTLET equally as pure in its approach to exposing the intrinsic awesomeness found in the dusty drawer of EVERYWHERE U.S.A. (and the ENTIRE WORLD).
Then again, generally speaking, THE EDITOR doesn’t know that many people. That being the case, you can send a query to EditorWest [at] BurntBridge [dot] net.
THE EDITOR is a man who occasionally loses his shit in conversations about MFA vs. NYC. He has been known to flee really good bars that serve really good whiskey with very few annoying types within earshot, grumbling how it’s all just a veiled extension of the age-long argument over whose parents are richer.
THE DESIGNER is another man similar to the man above. In size, make, and outlook on all things that fall within the realm of words written down on pages, they nearly see eye to eye, but THE DESIGNER believes ALL OF EVERYTHING is just something pulled from the clumsy hunk of flesh we pass off as a brain. THE DESIGNER is convinced our brains are nothing more than a wrinkly piece of meat that makes us do things–usually stupid things. But sometimes spectacular things. And, even more rarely, things nobody has ever done before. He likes those kinds of SPECTACULAR THINGS, but doesn’t think it’s possible to do SPECTACULAR THINGS anymore, not since the invention of the Internet.
THE PUBLICIST is a man not unlike the above two men. He will work tirelessly, using ANY KIND OF SOCIAL MEDIA to make people read your book, if you publish with BLASTGUN. He still works off dial-up, distills his own moonshine that’s better than Blue Label, and once kicked a duck sunning itself near his mother’s back-estate pool when she blasphemed the works of George Saunders after comparing him to Dr. Seuss. He told her that Georgey Boy does that on purpose for reasons of style. Then he made harsh comment about the hairdo she had been proud to wear since THE PUBLICIST was only a boy. It was the first time he ever saw her cry. That very day, he left his childhood bedroom to pursue a life filled with pursuits that truly felt like blazing successes at the time he was doing them. They always looked different when all was said and done. Usually a little askew.
THE WEB EDITOR is yet another man who could easily be mistaken for any of the above gentlemen. He can barely read and has never given a damn about spelling. He’s got a dog named Bosco, who is and always will be the pride of his life even though Bosco has never stopped crapping on the Amish-made rug THE WEB EDITOR stole from his neighbor. THE WEB EDITOR has a general appreciation of things that are made well and sturdy, which makes him overly suspect of anything related to technology. He learned to take a WordPress blog and pass it off as a website when he was in prison.
Any one of these fine CITIZENS OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA can be reached at EditorWest [at] BurntBridge [dot] net because THE WEB EDITOR has yet to figure out how to create a unique email address for free.
BLASTGUN publishes neo-pulp works of fiction that are not yet tarnished by dogmatic notions of what fiction is supposed to be. In fact, THE EDITOR barely knows anything about fiction writing except that occasionally smart-seeming dorks get angry if a rule they learned somewhere is broken. THE EDITOR thinks that’s absurd, and he white-knuckles through those conversations, wondering when the hell the production methodology for widgets entered a discussion about creativity. He also doesn’t quite agree with the people who think anything goes, but he’s not sure why. He feels like he should agree with them, but he doesn’t. There’s gotta be some kind of semblance of purpose as derived by some kind of idea of what’s correct, but to state it plain is to destroy it completely, never to be useful to your creative pursuits ever again. THE EDITOR believes this is a good thing. It keeps things fresh and unexpected.
THE EDITOR started this neo-pulp press because he thinks people who lose themselves completely in worlds of their own creation are the only people left with a real backbone, willing to stand up for the strange chaos in their heads.
THE EDITOR likes writers who believe every little thing they put down on paper, even if it is all make believe.*
Because that’s the point. This is America.
*Within reason and at the time it’s written. You have to leave this place when you go walk around and be with regular people.