Let me start by saying that Popcorn Press is basically me, with graphic design work by my second daughter.
The mission of our little publishing house has been to publish works larger publishers wouldn’t risk. Toward that end, we’ve been proud to release novels and poetry collections by individual authors, and to host an annual open-call anthology celebrating Halloween, which has ushered new writers into publishing, featuring their names alongside established ones.
In recent years we’ve added games to our catalog, mainly my own designs, because my publishing career started with games, and they’re in my blood.
Unfortunately, I am now officially disabled. The resulting life changes are more far-reaching than I’d anticipated in my “State of the Smithy” post last October. For a few days each week I’m relatively clear-headed and productive, and for the rest of the week I’m lost in either an existential fog or painful head noise. Even on the clear days, I’m much more prone to errors than in the past.
So I’m forced to pace myself to the disability. Taking things easy isn’t natural to me. But even simple tensions are triggers—things like concentrating too long on a task. I simply must learn to relax.
For Popcorn Press, this means reneging on a stack of titles I’d agreed to publish, by authors who have waited patiently for me to get the schedule in order. That thought is crushing. But scheduling is just no longer possible.
Our previously published titles will remain in print, and as a hobby I may release a few games, as the mood strikes. I may also publish a very few works by a very few close friends, as my condition permits.
But basically I am well and truly retired.
I appreciate the support Popcorn Press has received over the years, and I cherish every interaction I’ve had with authors and customers. But as an author kindly reminded me today, everything has a season.
2 thoughts on “The Future of Popcorn Press”
Sorry to hear it, Les. You have much to be proud of in the products you published. Best wishes on your situation becoming at least manageable, if not improving. As the saying goes, ‘Take care of yourself first, then put the oxygen mask on your neighbor.’
It was a truly magical run, and I am honored to have been a part of it. Thank you so much, dear sir.