I interviewed Jessy Marie Roberts, editor-in-chief of Pill Hill Press, an independent publisher that specializes in speculative fiction. We discussed what she looks for in a submission, what drives her nuts, and what inspired her to become a publisher.

LT: What kind of books/submissions are you looking for?

JR: Pill Hill Press publishes most genres of speculative fiction, but we are most interested in horror, fantasy and science fiction. We have a variety of anthologies open right now, each with a different theme, and will reopen to novel submissions in June.

LT: Why did you want to get involved in the publishing business?

JR: I’m a lifelong reader and writer. I wanted to become involved in the small press publishing business because it seemed like a fantastic way to meet other writers and put fun, independent books into readers’ hands.

LT: How did you get started?

JR: I jumped right in! I did some research, set a budget, designed a website, all of things I thought prepared me for opening a small press. I didn’t realize how time-consuming and involved the book publishing business actually is.

Luckily, I started with one anthology, The Middle of Nowhere, and completed that project from start to finish before I opened submissions to our second anthology, Shadows & Light. I went with the things that worked for me and I tried to correct the many mistakes I made along the way. I met a lot of fantastic writers while putting together The Middle of Nowhere, and those relationships helped to get my food in the door of the small press community.

LT: I am told that your company is very interactive with your authors. How so?

JR: Pill Hill Press has a fun, friendly and active online community (our forum’s web address is pillhillpress.lefora.com). It’s a nice place to meet other writers. I also use the forum platform to keep writers updated on the many projects Pill Hill Press is currently undertaking. I’m the Sheriff of a writing posse, competing in a “Shootout” against Liquid Imagination, a duel-style writing contest. That’s been a great way to get involved with the writers who submit their work to me for publication. I try to be friendly and responsive to queries, and to make myself available to the writers I publish (especially my novelists)—I think putting out a novel is a team effort, and I try to work with the author to polish up their work and put out a quality product. I involve the novelists in every step of the publishing process, from submission to edits to artwork to interior design to final proofs to promoting the novels.

LT: What can an author do to make you fall in love with their work? Write a story you love, one you believe in.

JR: If that passion comes through in your writing, I’m bound to fall in love with the story, too.

LT: Conversely, what can they do that will get you riled up?

JR: A story with unbelievable, boring, unlikeable characters. I need someone to root for while I read the story (regardless of the outcome).

LT: Tell us about your own writing.

JR: I dabble with writing short stories. I’ve been published in various small press venues, with several more publications forthcoming. I use writing as a creative outlet.

LT: What trends in pop literature, movies, or television would you like to get rid of?

JR: I’d like to see less “loveable monsters”. I’d like to see scary monsters reintroduced, being evil and rotten just for the sake of being evil and rotten.

LT: What kind of stories would you like to see embraced more widely?

JR: Unique, character-driven stories with an unlikely plot and an unlikely hero/heroine.

LT: What do you like to read?

JR: Romantic suspense and historical romance. I read a lot of horror/science fiction/fantasy at work. I relax with romance.

LT: What is one of your editing sessions like? Do you need music? Silence? Do you work at night or early in the morning?

JR: Complete silence, no distractions. I work best early in the morning.

LT: What’s the best piece of advice you can give up and coming authors?

JR: Take constructive criticism and apply it to your work. Set your ego and tender feelings aside when you submit your work to an editor/publisher, and be willing to make changes to your story if asked. And read the guidelines. PLEASE read the guidelines.

LT: Are there any upcoming projects from Pill Hill Press that you would like us to know about?

JR: Pill Hill Press is reopening to novel submissions June through December. We have several open anthologies (visit http://www.pillhillpress.com/open-submissions.html for more information), from flash fiction to werewolves, traditional monsters to science fiction and fantasy.

LT: Is there anything that you’d like to add?

JR: Thank you for this interview! If anybody would like to know more about Pill Hill Press, I encourage them to visit our website, www.pillhillpress, to find out a little more about our small, independent press located smack dab in the middle of nowhere. — Pill Hill Press Chadron, Nebraska www.pillhillpress.com pillhillpress@gmail.com

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©2010 Lori Titus

 
Cary sighed and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
 
“Problem?” Natalie asked from the passenger seat.
 
He looked at her, his eyes roamed from her own eyes down to the very low cut of her blouse and the ample treasure buried beneath.
 
“Problem?” she repeated, after clearing her throat sharply.
 
 “Um, no.” He looked at the console behind the steering wheel. “Well, yeah, but… I don’t know.”
 
Natalie raised a slender eyebrow.
 
“We’re out of gas.”
 
Natalie sighed and glanced out the window. They were stopped on the Blue Ridge Parkway, a road maintained for lovers of nature peppered with scenic views, hiking trails and long stretches of absolutely nothing. This was one of those stretches. On one side of the road ran a thick wood and on the other a cow pasture.
 
“Isn’t it more traditional to ‘run out of gas’ in someplace with a better view?” Natalie asked.
 
“No, we’re actually out of gas,” Cary sighed. “I don’t know what could have happened, I filled up before we…” Cary’s voice trailed off. He’d spotted a glint of light in the rear view and was trying to find it again.

Maybe it had been a headlight.
 
Natalie grabbed the mirror and wrenched it away from him. Cary turned to see her staring at herself with lipstick in hand. She noticed him watching and said, “So, shouldn’t you look under the hood or something?”
 
“For what?”
 
Natalie shrugged. “You said you filled up, maybe your gage is wrong. It can’t hurt to look.”
 
Cary sighed, reached beneath the dash and released the hood. “I guess not.”
 
He stepped slowly out of the car and stood tapping the roof for a moment wondering if what was under the blouse was worth going under the hood.
 
The light glinted again to his right. He turned quickly and stared into the dark. It definitely hadn’t been a headlight. It could have been a flashlight though. The moon was bright enough to see pretty well but if someone needed to look at something specific, say a cattle farmer checking on his herd, he might shine his light intermittingly at the pasture.
 
“Hello?” Cary yelled, wincing at the hollow sound of his voice in the empty night. He listened for a response but none came.
 
“Hello?” he repeated.
 
This time he was answered by footfalls which seemed to be picking up speed.
 
He stood motionless as the shape of a man emerged running from the shadows.
 
“Hey,” Cary said, walking quickly toward the approaching man. “Look, it’s okay, we’re not cattle rustlers or anything…”
 
He faltered as the light glinted once more and, though he really hadn’t gotten a better look, somehow Cary knew it for what it was; the malevolent gleam of a moon beam on the blade of a knife.
 
“Oh my God,” Cary whispered. With all his might he pulled in his next breath and then his body shut down. He’d always wondered how he’d deal with a situation like this; would he be heroic or diplomatic, would he fight the attacker or charm him into submission. He never really considered paralysis as an option.
 
The man was nearly on top of him now and at last his rigor mortis broke allowing him to do what he needed to do.
 
He dropped into a ball and whimpered.
 
The footsteps hammered the road as they came ever closer to where he lay in a heap and hammered a little less as they receded from him.
 
A tapping sound brought Cary back to his senses and he turned to see the man standing next to his passenger door, chipping away at the window with his knife.
 
“My car!” Cary yelled before he could stop himself. He winced and yelled even louder for her benefit, “Natalie!”
 
Cary took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, and shook his head. He opened them and focused on the figure who had just broken through his window.
 
“I swear to God, if I make it through this she’d better put out,” he said out loud.
 
He ran toward the man and grabbed him in a bear hug. The man was much smaller than Cary had expected, at least a few inches shorter than Cary’s own 5’10 and very thin.
 
Cary had been expecting a monster and he rammed him with the force he’d assumed a monster would require. As a result, the small man was completely overtaken and the two of them tumbled to the ground, rolling to a stop only when the man’s head struck a fence post with a sickening thunk.
 
“Oh my God,” Cary whispered.
 
The man lay motionless beneath him, his eyes two black marbles staring at nothing.
 
“Hey, hey!” Cary shouted at him as he shook him by the lapels of the black coat he was wearing. The man did not respond but something white fell from his jacket pocket.
 
Cary picked it up and studied it. It was an envelope addressed To Whom It May Concern. “I think I qualify,” Cary said.
 
A small hand pulled hard on his shoulder and threw him to the ground. He heard Natalie say, “There’s no need for you to read that. I’m sure it just says that he’s killed himself after having killed me. People tend to want to do that to those who kill their entire family.”
 
Cary stared up at the woman who he’d bought Lobster Thermidor for only an hour ago in the hopes of getting into her pants. “Why would you kill his whole family?”
 
“Oh, I imagine that’s a question a lot of books are going to be written about one day,” Natalie said with a chuckle.
 
She sliced his neck quickly and efficiently. It seemed wrong to give him a slow and painful death. After all, he did buy her lobster.
 
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© 2010 R. A. Hunter   

R. A. Hunter is an active member of WEbook and a founding member of The Ink Slingers. His story Lunch Date was recently published in The House of Horror e-zine. He has sung 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall all of the way through to the end.  For more info see him here: www.r-a-hunter.com