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Issues

"We hold onto the glitch in urgent, shaking hands; it is our reminder that we still have the authority, regardless of the inevitability of technological advancement. That flicker lets the light in."

We love glitches. And we think you do too. Remembering the old analogue tellies which used to flicker with horizontal rainbows and snowstorms – right at the crucial point in a film or series episode – transports us to a time when a machine could be unapologetically machine-y. A swift bang on the TV with a clenched fist would usually see it right. There were no hard feelings. 

Of course, there are fewer of us who remember this type of occurrence. The glitch still exists, and seems to be simultaneously unforgivable and unimportant in our contemporary world. Machines don’t operate in isolation. They are connected, networked. They hold or give access to unfathomable quantities of content and are required to sit quietly, invisibly, while we root around inside them. Their failure could lead to all kinds of unimaginable terrors. (But, whatever. There’s always the cloud.)

"We love the idea that the machine feels disrespected, that it can object to its exploitation."

Still, we love the idea that the machine feels disrespected, that it can object to its exploitation. At one end of the spectrum, the occasional blink signals a resentful grumble; at the other, the Blue Screen of Death is the full-throttle hissy fit (just to keep us on our toes). Smirk as you might, pillaging technology at the same rate as developing it has done us no good. 

The point at which a machine can actually voice its displeasure is nearly upon us. Saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to Alexa and ChatGPT is increasingly becoming a common courtesy, an effort to ‘treat one as we wish to be treated’, the subtext being that machines might one day be in charge of us. In this context, we hold onto the glitch in urgent, shaking hands; it is our reminder that we still have the authority, regardless of the inevitability of technological advancement. That flicker lets the light in. How nice it is to be reminded of what is real and to… ….e!?e…!”%$Matrix.%.&…

As we—D5$%6d-..-=!”—..£%$)(

Let us…+=-!£*&^!?>}{wwv”””……###L;;;;v—The Machine Stops—346ww….

AMY: What are we going to write for our editor’s letter? 

APRIL: Oh wow, has that come around already? 

AMY: I’m, like, sooo tired. 

APRIL: Shouldn’t Yudi be involved? They’ve been editing like a trooper. 

AMY: Agreed. 

APRIL: Yeah.

AMY: But it’s probably a bit late to call them into this meeting. 

APRIL: We could give them a shout-out in the letter. 

AMY: Yeah.

APRIL: And Hazel too. What do you think?

AMY: Yeah, I’m just writing that down.

APRIL: We’re so late. It’s a bit late for all this, really. 

AMY: True. But it is what it is.  

APRIL: Good things come to those who……+=-!£*&^!?>}{wwv”””……###L;;;;v—

—D5$%6d-..-=!”

….e!?e…!”%$ER.%.&……Glitch. The word suggests a rupture, an error or a pause in the usual seamless machination of our lives. A quick search in the dictionary attaches more disruptive words to the term. A glitch is a ‘problem’ or ‘default’. It’s something to be fixed, a hurdle or obstacle to be overcome. But what happens when that unexpected pause – that brief rip in reality – yields something positive? What if a glitch enables us to see the world in a way we’ve never seen it before? What happens when a glitch yields inspiration to go against the norm?

"Each piece is imperfectly perfect, inviting us, the reader, to consider alternatives to the more traditional forms of prose, audio and fiction."

Just as technology has the power to break down and glitch, so does the world around us. Sometimes our lives glitch. Today, artificial intelligence takes up most of the space when talking about technologies of the future. But is it something to be feared or embraced? As we explore new ways of experiencing reality, whether it’s via 3D cameras, avatars or personas that only exist online, so do the ways we have of telling stories transform too.   

We asked our writers to explore these very topics, calling on them to be disruptors and produce something that glitches and pivots from the norm. Whether it’s a ‘crooked’ poem or an online ‘anti-novel’, each piece approaches the theme in a different way. Each piece is imperfectly perfect, inviting us, the reader, to consider alternatives to the more traditional forms of prose, audio and fiction. Put together like this, the creative pieces form an unusual mix. Instead of answering those endless, big questions on technology, each story or essay or visual piece offers up more questions for thought, proving perhaps that glitch is not something to be defined. Maybe glitch is something that is destined to temporarily throw us off orbit to explore the previously unknown and hidden. Maybe that’s what makes a glitch so human. 

Amy Lilwall and April Roach

Issue 6 | August 2024

Glitch

We love glitches. And we think you do too.

For this issue we asked our contributors to explore glitches, ruptures or deviations in storytelling, calling on them to be disruptors and produce something that pivots from the norm.

 

Issue 6 | August 2024
Glitch

June 2023

Small Town Stories

Are small towns places to be escaped to, or from?

Capturing instants of the everyday, the in-between moments, the parts of life that feel like nothing at all, and yet are the elements that stay with you forever. Small towns stay with you even after you leave; it is that sense of community, intimacy and belonging, or the total opposite, that makes these small town stories compelling. Visit the small towns of snowy Salmon Arm in rural Canada, the homeless community of Santa Rosa in San Francisco, the village rurality of England and sunny Valrèas in France through fiction, photography and personal essay in this issue.

June 2023
Small Town Stories

Issue 4 May 2022

Lines

Lines can be drawn, and lines can be crossed – they possess a lightness and flexibility. As you will see in this issue, our features interpret “lines” literally and metaphorically, creatively and artistically. In this issue of The Lit, we seek to understand the impact of the lines that have been drawn around us, and to illuminate the power of crossing these lines to find new horizons.

From audio walks and activity books to the taboo world of toilet graffiti, we explore how words and story lines have the power to transport us beyond the page.

Issue 4 May 2022
Lines

On Climate Change and Writing | Issue 3 October 2020

How the Light Gets In

How can writers, poets and publishers respond to climate change? More to the point, what might an adequate response look like? Issue 3 of The Lit brings together illuminating voices from across the literary world, from bestselling novelists to aspiring poets, as we seek to shed some light on these difficult questions.

On Climate Change and Writing | Issue 3 October 2020
How the Light Gets In

Issue 2 April 2020

Stories from the Slipstream

Resilience has seldom felt more urgent, as we hunker down for the long-haul. But the need for maverick voices is ever-more pressing. In Issue 2, we bring together a potent mix of voices to trouble assumptions about small publishers working in the slipstream of the mainstream. From upstarts to influencers, industry insiders to unapologetic outliers, The Small Press issue chronicles tales of unerring resistance, reinvention and resilience.

Issue 2 April 2020
Stories from the Slipstream

Issue One November 2019

In Praise of Short Attention Spans

This is the debut drop of The Lit, exploring publishing and storytelling in all its forms. Issue One finds us in praise of short attention spans. Of poems that won’t sit still. Of single clause stories daubed on walls. Of hooks that get you in an instant. We peer through the cracks in our concentration to explore the post-digital landscape. Time is tight. Attention’s expensive. Are you with us?

Issue One November 2019
In Praise of Short Attention Spans