We have plenty of Catholic theological, economic, political, cultural, and social commentary in books and periodicals, print and online. We have plenty of sources that talk about art from a Catholic perspective. What we don’t have is good Catholic art about which to talk! Why is that? Every so often, someone whines that there are no good Catholic writers any more—no Graham Greenes, no Flannery O’Conners. That’s not true. What’s missing is venue. Those few Catholic publishers who risk publishing fiction or poetry at all are too fearful of work that does not adhere to the commercial formulae for paper-back “Christian literature,” the kind of escapist or recreational stuff we see in check-out lines at supermarkets and discount stores, often called “young adult fiction”. There’s nothing wrong with that kind of entertaining and innocuous writing, but it’s not the stuff of Flannery or Graham. It doesn’t pretend to be.
Only a very tiny handful of Catholic publishers are willing to consider fiction at all; nearly all of them confine their publications to non-fiction, with little or no poetry. Non-fiction consists of information and opinions, and we have plenty of excellent writers who opine and inform very well. But that’s not the purpose of art. Art isn’t interested in facts or opinions; it’s interested in truth. Truth can’t be formed or shaped, dictated or fashioned by a concern about image, about public relations, or about how Catholicism might be “seen.” It can’t be judged or evaluated, accepted rejected, on the same bases that are applied to commentary. And that’s why there are no good Catholic writers these days. Those few we do have are published only by secular publishing houses—Catholic publishers are too fearful, too self-conscious.
Dappled Things is the only Catholic literary magazine there is in actual, hold-in-your-hand print. It is our literary magazine, the only one we have—even if we don’t often read fiction or poetry. Catholic publications are an endangered species in the first place, but Catholic literature is next to extinction. We have only one literary publication left that is written and published by Catholic writers and editors. This is it. Arthur Powers, gifted writer and supporter of DT, provides more information in the link below.
http://us2.campaign-archive2.com/?u=675a31a4bf325da62acb25fbc&id=dda9016bac&e=b37c570550
The web site for ‘Dappled Things’ is well done, but when I checked last week, payment for a writers’ work was a free print copy for yourself. This to me shows our one venue to be too close to extinction, and a payment to writers for their work somehow needs to be addressed, especially when they are expecting perpetual (in a word) reprint rights. If their market was more widespread, they could pay authors for the work.
As for no market — or, more to the point, few willing to chance time and money — Where do even start, in finding an agent willing to field a very Catholic film script? The every avenue for any Catholic art is sparse to decades between events — definitely time for a change.
Cheryl Pederson
Fargo, ND
Not surprisingly, Cheryl, DT cannot afford to pay writers for their work. There are a few Catholic novels (I’m thinking of This Side of Jordan, for instance) that are self-published, or virtually so.
But publishing of all kinds is changing. I’m told that we are approaching a time when there will be no physical books published at all, only e-books, and libraries as we know them will become something like museums.
Be that as it may, Catholic publishing seems to be leading the charge into the shadows, and Catholic literary works are–as we say–all but extinct.
But another unmentioned issue is the decline of literary fiction and poetry in general. (I use the term “literary” fiction to distinguish it from “popular” fiction.) Today’s market exists almost exclusively for entertainment–mysteries and thrillers, romance and rebellion.
Given the scenario in general, film scripts stand in a much better position than any other genre.
Cheryl –
I just saw this note. Very few literary magazines pay writers for their work. Most literary magazines, including many of the oldest and most prestigious, are labors of love, run by volunteers. Their purpose is to build communities of letters.
Arthur