21/12/2022
There’s a scene in High Fidelity where the guys from the record store are at a bar listening to Lisa Bonet’s character, Mare De Salle, sing “Baby, I Love Your Way.” After the song, Barry (Jack Black) excitedly invites Mare to visit Championship Vinyl. Later, Rob (John Cusack) bemoans the fact that Barry mentioned the store to Mare, to which Barry responds: “Oh, I'm sorry, I didn’t know it was classified information. I mean, I know we don’t have any customers, but I thought that was a bad thing, not like, a business strategy.”
I am terrible at self-promoting. Most people who know me have no idea what I do, mainly that I run a small press that publishes three fantastic literary journals. I am proud of our publications, especially the flagship TFL, which Robin and I have been publishing nonstop for nearly a quarter of a century. But I always seem to drag my feet when it comes to bringing more attention to TFL, and when I do, Robin is fond of saying, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was a secret. It’s not like we want readers.” (She’s as cutting as Mr. Black but cuter.)
I’m not about to change who I am (old dogs and all that). I’m not going to post more on Facebook or finally try out that newfangled Twitter I keep hearing so much about. But I would like to take a moment to toot our own horn: The winter issue, which should be back from the printers soon, is our 100th.
Our first issue was sent out into the world on May 15, 1999. A slim, sixteen-page booklet with a blue cover, the first TFL contained twelve original stories based on Robin’s first line:
Just like his fifth grade teacher, Mr. Young, had always told him, Brian put on his thinking cap.
The First Line was created from a writing game Jeff Adams (co-founder and co-editor until 2006) and I played through the mail in the early 1990s. We had two rules back then: Each story had to begin with the first line provided, and stories could be no longer than six hundred words. The First Line was the first literary journal dedicated to flash fiction.
Starting with Volume 4, Issue 1 in 2002, we changed the format, dropped to four times a year, allowed stories to expand past the first page, and began paying writers for their words, but we never changed our mission of encouraging creativity. Through the nearly two and a half decades, we have remained unaffiliated, unfunded, unassuming, and far from uninspiring.
Since our first issue, we’ve witnessed hundreds of literary journals come and go, from flashy publications that burned out after a few issues to favorites that passed away after years with little notice. Through it all, we have been fortunate to be a mainstay in the literary world, bringing new and established writers and their works to appreciative readers.
Someday, maybe, we’ll tell the whole story of the little literary magazine that could. But for now, we want to thank you—our writers, readers, and champions—for everything you have done to keep The First Line around for a hundred issues.
