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I've sat down to write this letter a dozen times, and could not. It's about ending Stranger Things. Four years ago, God gave me a vision for a magazine. Or at least I felt he did. There I was, this surfer/snowboarder slacker paralyzed by a car accident, wondering what to do with his life. I went back to finish my last year in school, reviving my love of writing in the process. Then, from out of nowhere these thoughts of a magazine came slamming into my mind. In and out of class I kept a notebook, struggling to keep up with the flood of ideas (forget about whatever the professors were saying). There was nothing out there written by Christians that conveyed the paradox of strangeness and power that faith was in my life. No writing on faith that was free of cultural sentimentality or dead tradition. And nothing that saw God and truth not just in "Christian" labelled products, but everywhere in man's inherited creativity, like I did. In every Christian magazine, God was boxed in by stale language and false ideas of sacred/secular, even by those who claimed to be letting him out. I was always meeting other hungry people on the road of faith, some who ran in Christian circles but mostly people in the wild world -- going it alone because they felt nothing in common with the Christian culture of exclusion, repressed fears, and appearances. People like myself. And I believed God was telling me to speak for them, and find others as well who could write about our freeing strangerhood -- our journey through life believing in something beyond, believing in a bizarre story about God becoming human and dying so we could live as we were meant to now and forever(!) -- and about the bits of light and truth in movies, music, and books made by creations of this weird God. We are strangers
in this reality, and what things do we struggle with, what things
are truly real, what things should we be thinking and doing as
spiritual travelers? I told God I couldn't do it alone, though. Soon after that two guys showed up with the skills needed. Brian Heflin, the kick-ass writer/poet/visionary, and Aaron Gerry the newly-stoked believer with a design degree. I took it as a go-ahead from God. With a little research, we realized a print mag wasn't something you just started without money and experience. So we wrote out a business plan, secured some start-up funds, and began with a webzine in August '99. We immediately attracted writers and a readership, and the machine began to chug. We planned on going to print the following summer, but we quickly realized that was too short a timeframe. The work involved even in doing a webzine was a little overwhelming. "That's okay, God wants us to struggle a bit to make sure we're really in this." Summer 2001, then. Once it became apparent that we were going to be planting seeds in the dirt for free for awhile, Aaron decided to leave for already green pastures. Brian and I took over the design duties as well as editing, writing, managing the staff, marketing, business stuff, and so on. "We can handle it. God will send some more people." We dropped the ball on promoting the zine at three summer music fests, but learned a lot by being there and gained a big influx of new writers and readers once we returned from our month-long roadtrip. Soon after that, it dawned on me to try and make the print mag a digest of all the cool stuff being done by webzines like Bandoppler, True Tunes, Opus, Tidal Wave, Tangzine, etc.. We could pull our content from already existing content online, and just concentrate on a few original pieces and the design and business end of things. I knew everyone involved would have to be pulled together by January in order to start getting enough advertising in time for summer -- and a business loan. Meanwhile, my relationship with my girlfriend began a horrible writhing death (still ongoing), and co-producer Brian seemed to lose interest or hope in the mag. I grunted and groaned a new issue into existence in January after a two-month lull. Still hadn't contacted all the other webzine publishers with my plan for a print digest. By February I knew the print mag wasn't going to happen this summer either. Essential partner Bandoppler.com ended. Brian had been virtually absent for two months. I was doing 75% of the mag alone (a few faithful writers helping to ease some of the slack). And I knew we didn't have the business balls needed to do the print mag well without losing a lot of money. Beyond that, what had always been a love/hate relationship between me and the mag turned entirely to hate. And most importantly, I lost a sense of God behind the scenes, instead feeling that I was dragging the whole thing forward myself. While I actually believe that losing a sense of God is essential (and intentional on his part) in building faith, I don't have such a survivor faith in me right now. I have no idea if God really wanted me to do Stranger Things, or if it was all in my mind. Either way, I'm ending the webzine. I'm tired of basing my hopes for financial security on my creativity. I'm tired of being poor (while another sure-bet business is calling my name). I'm tired of never being satisfied with an issue of Stranger Things. I'm tired of my lame attempts at web design. I'm tired of not being a dependable publisher who can reply to people's emails, get an issue up on time, or do any other of a thousand needed tasks with any competence. I'm tired of being unable to put any humour or creativity into Stranger Things because of how drained I am from doing all the menial work that needs to be done for each issue. I'm tired of losing out on experiences with my real-life friends and family because I'm always tied up on my computer. I'm tired of baring my soul to thousands of nameless, faceless souls (thank you to those few who emailed -- without you, I would have given up much earlier). I'm tired of not getting all the content I envisioned from the start. I'm tired of using this letter to complain or moan -- I hate complaining, and it's fully against the original purpose of the mag. The purpose and passion behind Stranger Things has all but vanished, and it's time to say good night. I know at least a few people are closer to their Creator because of us. Some have a stronger grip on their journey home knowing they're not alone. A few good albums and movies were experienced fuller and by more people through our words. Religious chains were shaken and smashed for some. I wish I was a braveheart of a believer who could endure against overwhelming odds, but when I feel captured and on the brink of creative death, I've gotta say goodbye. So, we're just going to do one more issue of Stranger Things after this one. I'm probably going to continue my Christianity Deconstructed column with the remnant staff of Bandoppler in the new webzine Fine Print Mag. Brian and a few of ST's writers may join them as well. Other than that, the vision of Stranger Things will be offline until faith, God, and/or money comes pouring in and persuades me to try again. Thanks for reading. josh spencer February 2001 |