Dave Clapper is a father, a writer, and the editor of SmokeLong Quarterly. His work has appeared in over thirty journals, including FRiGG, Literary Potpourri, Thunder Sandwich, and 3:AM Magazine. He holds a degree in theater from Northwestern University’s School of Communication, and two
of his plays were produced in Seattle. Visit his website.

Let’s start with SmokeLong Quarterly. What prompted you to
launch your own e-zine, and why did you choose flash fiction as your publication’s focus?

Frustration, mostly. As a writer, a lot of different publications found varied and sundry ways to piss me off. Several of the first mags I appeared in disappeared without a trace within months of publication. In one case, a piece was accepted and the mag folded before it ever appeared. In many, many cases, I never heard anything back from the editors, whether in response to the original submissions or to follow-up queries. The most ridiculous? I was googling my name and came across the publication of two pieces I’d submitted months earlier. They never bothered to let me know they were being published. Nice, huh? I would’ve looked like a complete jackass if I’d submitted them anyplace else.

So… I wanted there to be a publication that made it its mission to treat writers well. And that encompasses a number of things: communication, timely responses to submissions, endurance of the magazine, presentation of the writing, etc. I think we’ve mostly succeeded in that, and a lot of that has had to do with how great the staff has been. We’re all writers, so we know what it’s like out there. And it’s really important to me that the folks on staff at SLQ be not just good writers, but also good people. I love the folks who’ve worked on SLQ, and it’s always really hard for me when one of them needs to leave because of other obligations (usually a greater focus on their own writing). I understand it, but man, I miss them terribly every time it happens.

Of course, since starting SLQ and learning the markets better, I’ve encountered tons and tons of truly great editors. I just seemed to have shit luck with my earliest submissions as a writer.

As far as why flash… a couple reasons: 1) it’s what I write myself and what I most enjoy reading, and 2) it’s a form that’s perfect for the web. There are all kinds of studies out there about how much people are willing to read online, and sadly, the number of words people will read ain’t many. So flash fits what people will actually read.

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What has been the hardest part of editing and publishing SmokeLong? The most rewarding?

Hmmm. The hardest part has probably been fending off burn-out. We read about 2,000 submissions a year plus an untold number of flashes in various workshops looking for stuff we might want to solicit. And the quality is so, so broad. Some of the stuff is incredible, heart-breaking, soul-shaping, brain-reorganizing. And much of it… isn’t. You start to develop pet peeves. For example, any story starting with a blinking digital alarm clock is going to have to work very, very hard to overcome the fact that several of us have grown to absolutely loathe blinking digital alarm clocks. (Have you seen “Stranger Than Fiction,” by the way? That’s the first fresh take I’ve seen on digital clocks—a watch in this case—that I’ve seen in ages.) So… there can be an inclination when reading something not all that great to be very, very unkind. And that can build up over time into a feeling of “ugh, just fuck it. I don’t feel like reading anything today.”

The most rewarding is absolutely the moment a story sings from the slush pile and sends that build-up of angst scurrying back under the rock where it belongs. And that moment comes several times with each story we accept–the moment we first read it, the moment we send the acceptance letter, the moment we hear back from the writer (and it’s so, so touching how many of them are really grateful, even some of the big “names”), and the moments when the issue becomes a living thing… reading, proofing, creating the pages, thinking back on them while writing the letter from the editor, and publishing–oh sweet wonderful beautiful thing–publishing them and exposing these gifts to a hungry audience.

There is this great communication between writers and editors that can happen leading up to the publish date. It’s electrifying at times. I highly recommend it. Much, much better than Prozac.

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Don’t you have a day job as well? How do you stay so organized?

This question cracks me up. I am one of the least organized people in the entire world. This is a big reason (besides cost) that we’ve never really done print–I’m practically phobic about committing to getting to the post office by set dates, because I’m more likely than not to miss those dates.

Really, it’s more a question of passion. It’s easy to put time into those things you love. And, in spite of the occasional burn-out, I do love editing. Also, the way we have things set up makes it pretty easy to stay on top of submissions–just gotta log in, read, and vote. I have the login page set as my home page, so to not log in every day would require me willfully avoiding it.

For money, I’m currently contracting at Microsoft. And unfortunately, it’s in a touchy area, so I’m legally not allowed to talk about it. That makes it sound much more interesting than it is, though.

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You’ve been invited to speak at the 2008 Writers Week at William Fremd High School in Chicago. How did you get involved with the project?

My invitation came about somewhat randomly. I was surfing Wikipedia and came across a page for my alma mater. On the page, I was delighted to see that they’ve been holding a Writers Week for about a dozen years now. I tracked down the site for it and shot off an email to the teacher who heads it up. I told him how great it is that they do this and that I was an alum and was publishing a lit mag now, and pretty much left it at that. He answered me pretty quickly and mentioned that if I’d be in Chicago during this year’s event, I should swing by to check it out. Getting to Chicago from Seattle doesn’t happen much for me anymore, so it didn’t look like I’d be able to experience it. But he asked if I’d like to be a speaker next year, and once he shared details of how it works (and I saw that it was financially feasible), I jumped at the chance.

A couple weeks ago, when I was stuck on 520 for TWO AND A HALF FUCKING HOURS, I put in the CD of highlights from the 2003 Writers Week. I was so glad I had the CD. I hadn’t opened it yet, so I popped it into the CD player and listened to about 15 professional writers and about 30 students giving readings. I was blown away.

After hearing the CD, I started to feel a wee bit intimidated. What really came through was how good all these folks were as readers. It’s hard to tell, when listening to a CD (especially while sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic) how good the actual writing is, but the ability of these folks as performers was very impressive. Almost all of them were poets, and I think a huge number of them came out of the Slam scene, so they were clearly used to performing.

Now… I don’t know how many readings you’ve been to, but… not all writers are great oral readers. And I was an actor once upon a time, so I have comfort in front of an audience, but I haven’t necessarily tied the performative with the written in the same way that slam poets have. I did a few slams when I first moved to Seattle, but the Seattle slam scene at that time was nowhere near what the Chicago (and national) scene is today. And I’ve actually performed a one-man show that I wrote, but I wrote it specifically for the stage.

What I need to be thinking about over the next year is: what sort of writing lends itself best to performance, especially for an audience of incredibly bright high school students? And is the performative even the best use of the time I have?

As you can probably tell from my rambling, I’m very excited about it, but also pretty damned nervous. I’m glad I have a year to prepare.

If folks are interested in Writers Week, there’s more information on the website.

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My first introduction to your work was through your story “Spike. Resonance.” published in the spring 2005 issue of FRiGG. I have to admit, I held my hand over my mouth through the entire read. It was riveting. And disturbing. The initial image, of a girl tapping her vein, led me into this cold and unsettled world and left me there. I’m still thinking about her, and those eyes… There is also something poetic about the piece, especially in the way the girl talks about her mother. How do you think those two aspects of the story enhance each other?

Wow. Thank you. I don’t know about you, but I’m not all that crazy about probably 90% of the stuff I’ve had published. This piece is in the 10% I do like. I think I’m still a little in love with the girl in this story. The guy isn’t very well-realized, but the girl… well, I love her.

As far as the two aspects enhancing each other… hmm. I don’t know. It is what it is, y’know? I mean… her mother died in weather like this, so this is the weather in which the story has to be told, no? She wouldn’t tell this story in the middle of summer. And she needs the music to be able to tell the story. She can’t tell it in a linear way. Or… well, maybe she could, but… here’s the thing. She’s already telling it with a certain level of detachment (and the drugs are part of that, helping her have some distance), but if she told it in a linear way with that same level of detachment, she would just be too… dead. It sounds odd, but having the heroin and the poetry of the words allows, at least for me, some level of hope for this girl. It’s not a blazing light of hope, it’s dim, but it’s there. Even in intentionally numbing herself with the cold and with the heroin, she still is attached enough to almost sing the story.

I don’t know. It’s a hard story for me to analyze too deeply. It just is. I can’t imagine it being related any other way.

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You were, as you say, “an actor once upon a time.” What led you away from the stage, and into writing and editing?

This is kind of funny. A dog. It was a dog, my old friend, an Australian Shepherd/Brittany mix named Caleb. The first play I did after he came into my life, I felt huge guilt being at rehearsals instead of home with him. So that was it for me. And once I had kids, forget about it. If I felt guilty leaving a dog at home, there was no way in hell I’d be able to be at a theater five nights a week while leaving my boys at home.

I’ve always written. Well, always sporadically. Toward the end of my acting career, I started writing on a weekly basis with an actor friend, Stephanie Roberts. She and I co-wrote a play for the Seattle Fringe Festival called “Almost Home,” that was very well-received. The following year, we each wrote our own shows. Hers was great. Mine was adequate. And then I left it behind for a while, until… God, this is embarrassing. A message board dedicated to reality television had a writing contest in between seasons of “Survivor” and I dug out a bunch of my old stuff and started posting it. And realized how much I missed writing. So I started up again, started submitting, and that led into editing. Ta-dah!

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Two of your plays were produced in Seattle. What were they about?

“Almost Home” was about the ways in which we define home and where we find it, whether in a structure, a location, another person. “Speakeasy” was about four generations of cops turned bar owners in Chicago. It was a one-man show with scenes during Prohibition, WWII, the Democratic convention of ‘68, and the day the space shuttle blew up (which was the day after the Bears Super Bowl parade).

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What other type of stage work have you done? Has it helped you in anyway with your writing?

As far as acting on stage, I’ve mostly done fringe theater stuff. Well… some musical theater years and years and years ago. But the stuff that really drew me in tended toward the more experimental. And oh, God–some murder-mystery dinner theater to help pay the bills. And improv. I love, love, love improv.

I think it’s helped me with writing dialogue. I dunno how many strong points I’d say I have as a writer, but I think my dialogue is pretty solid. If dialogue is bad in a script, it’s just painful to act it. So I’ve developed a pretty good ear, I think.

And improv sort of is writing, no?

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Didn’t you also do some Stuart Dybek work on stage?

I moved to Seattle with seven classmates from Northwestern to start a theater company. For our first show, we adapted his short story “Blight” to the stage. I wasn’t actually in that one– I was the producer. I’ve been a huge fan of his ever since.

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When I think of Dave Clapper, the first thing that comes to mind (besides SmokeLong) is your sons. What is the best part about being a dad?

The best part? There are lots of great parts. They make me laugh often. In the pic above, what you can’t see is my youngest running around wearing a dog collar pretending to be a pug. Their takes on the world are wild (particularly the youngest, whose imagination is enormous). But the absolute best parts come unexpectedly. They are in every way boys, and have huge amounts of energy and love rough play, so they continually fight. I have to ask sometimes if they’re play-fighting or real-fighting. If either one says “real,” it’s time to separate them. I mention that as set-up for the unexpected.

When their compassion, particularly for one another, comes to the forefront, it makes my heart go pit-a-pat. I remember when Zach (the younger) was in the hospital with pneumonia a couple years ago. Nobody could get him to do anything other than lie in bed and moan. It was awful. Until his brother, Cameron, got him to go check out the toys in a little playroom in the children’s wing. Neither my ex nor I could motivate him to get there, but Cam could, and we could see how much just the simple act of playing with his brother helped Zach to feel better. Or when some adults the boys didn’t know very well reprimanded Cam for something he’d said, Zach hollered, “Don’t you talk to my brother that way!” I know the adults were aghast, but I beamed with pride knowing that he’d stick up for his brother that way.

It’s easy to forget sometimes that they really do love each other, as they’re very much brothers with all the sibling rivalry that goes along with that. But once in a while, when one is besieged in some way, the other comes to his rescue, and it makes me ache and glow.

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Contact Dave

Read:

Already Dead
published by FRiGG

Improbable Bodies
published by FRiGG

Flicker
published by Literary Potpourri

Stones
published by Thunder Sandwich

Smoked Secretly
published by 3:AM Magazine

The Velocity of a Clitoris
published by Defenestration

Of a Hat At the Drop
published by edifice wrecked

Filed Under: The Writer Profile Project |