What Happened to The Fog Horn?

 
 

Friends, family, writers, potential writers and readers:

Last week we pulled The Fog Horn from the App Store, and cancelled your automatic subscriptions. 

But let's back up.

We began building The Fog Horn in August 2013, and launched exclusively for the iPhone, iPad and iPod Touch on December 15th. Since, we've received wonderful, constructive feedback and warm reviews from many of you, from online "tastemakers" and both tech and literary critics. 

We're incredibly proud of the six issues we've published so far, comprised of 24 stories from 22 writers, across a variety of fiction genres: comedy, horror, fantasy, historical, sci-fi and personal drama. Conor Britain built, customized, endlessly updated and perfected our magazine on the TypeEngine platform. He helped us say no to extraneous features while maintaining a technical product that was virtually error-free. Bryan Flynn developed our iconic masthead, drew custom headshots and created six covers (seven, including our intro issue) that belong among the greats. They speak to our tone, content and era in a way we couldn't have foreseen, nor imagined. Classic, but contemporary and riveting. All in all, we feel the product we created has been a qualitative success.

So what happened?

Any passionate indie app developer will tell you that rising above the cruft is their biggest obstacle, and often their primary culprit when it's time to close up shop. Even the big players face a nearly insurmountable crowd of millions of competitors -- our competition isn't just other short story magazines, we face other general interest and niche magazines, and reading apps, and texting platforms, and games. Oh, the games. We all fight for one thing, and that's your attention. And your attention is increasingly fractured, and spread thin -- and not just among mobile apps and games, but consoles and a brilliant, saturated, diverse TV marketplace. And blockbuster movies. And superb online content, branded and glossy, or not. But quality nonetheless. It is, to say, an uphill battle. One that we were well aware of when we decided to build The Fog Horn.

To make our mark, we decided to offer the highest quality reading experience, devoid of extraneous garnishes and features. And we worked tirelessly to provide an intimate, open, positive publishing experience, highlighted by our industry-leading compensation: $1000 for a published story. In a world where writers can reach the whole world with the press of a button, but can't find a paycheck for their life, we wanted to provide a safe haven for original writing, and a beacon for a new, revitalized pay structure. Writers should be paid for their writing. 

So we attracted a tsunami of submissions. Nearly 1000 since launch, at a rate of almost 7 a day, or about 210 a month once we really got going. Of those pitches, we requested 45 stories -- 6% of submitted pitches. We published 17 of those, so 37% of the stories we requested. Cleaning up the math, we published 2% of our public submissions. We never broke from our model of four stories a month -- curated, consumable and of the highest quality we could find. The Fog Horn remains a predictable structure but also an appealing size and usually thematic collection, to fit into your busy lifestyle. To garner your attention.

We run a lean, efficient business. We're four: myself, Conor, Bryan and a volunteer copy editor (and one of our launch authors), Chris Starr. Our content costs are transparent: I just listed them, above. Otherwise, we spent money on our website hosting (SquareSpace), TypeEngine platform costs, legal, and finally, an extremely slim marketing and advertising budget. 

With little left over to spend there, it barely made a dent in our downloads. Hyper-targeted Facebook ads actually did nudge the needle, but we didn't spend, nor could we afford, to do a big buy or continual targeted spend. The rest we chalked up to marketing R&D.

I believe most of our downloads came from positive word-of-mouth, through social media and press coverage. We received very little tech coverage: as none of us have previously sold a company, without exponential network growth and with the app not built nor positioned to be the next WhatsApp, we were mostly ignored by the big tech blogs. For those that did give us a chance, we thank you, every day.

In turn, you downloaded our app for free, and enjoyed a 7 day free trial. From there, nearly 46% of you subscribed. We can't tell who unsubscribed, or who didn't, or who downloaded and never opened it (a frustration all Newsstand publishers face). But we know that our conversion rate is off-the-charts relative to other digital mags. People who found us and read us, loved us, for the cost of $3.99 a month. We spent quite a long time getting to that price. The App Store revolution has created a race to the bottom -- software and related products are cheaper than ever, and yet we truly believe our new stories are worth a dollar each (and even less when considering the "all you can eat" archived content). 

How have you consumed the magazine? You read equally on your iPhone and iPad, and barely on your iPod Touch. You loved to read at 1 PM, 7 PM and 9 AM -- your lunch, and commutes. Thursday was your favorite reading day. And you stuck with us, coming back every month at a steady clip.

The issue, as always, was finding us. 

We didn't, and don't, have the money for huge advertising and marketing. And I'm not sure how effective it can be. We don't strive for ground-breaking features, so the tech world will never eat us up. And we're unwilling to stop paying writers. But we endeavored to live and flourish on the major social platforms, as much as our limited staff and time could provide. We reached out with targeted, personal messaging to the appropriate major tech and literary critics, and occasionaly had success. But like everyone else, it's about bandwith. We get it.

We've reached out to successful writers with huge followings, and more modest followings, in an effort to bring their existing readers in. We got a few, and many others loved the project but couldn't commit, and that's the issue with attracting big writers: they're busy writing.

We'd love to expand to other platforms -- Android, Amazon, Windows and the web. But it's very expensive, and complicated (as any developer will tell you), and we won't sacrifice our quality experience for breadth. Until we can do it right, we're not going to do it. And to do it right costs a lot, and takes time. Of all the platforms, we're already on the one with the highest spending consumers. It's part of the reason we went there first. So the returns are unpredictable, at best.

Advertising is an option, but it's an ugly, intrusive experience and advertisers don't pay too much for smaller, niche audiences. Venture capital isn't interested, as we don't offer one of the two typical exit strategies: acquisition or going public.

We've always treated our business like a true start-up, and most fail. That's life. We probably would, too. By some measures, we did. Not in the product itself, but in our stunted growth. We haven't become profitable.  Because our current product is a subscription model based on a monthly delivery, we couldn't provide that going forward and so we did the right thing and cancelled your existing subscriptions. We have temporary plans to re-submit the app as a stand-alone collection for purchase, and hope to do so, soon. The stories are timeless. We are assessing other platforms, writers and business models. We've spent a lot of money to make something we're indelibly proud of, and something many of you loved. We've paid 22 writers for their work, and nobody can take that away, either. They hail from five countries and three continents. We were touched by them, and their words, and their need to have their voices heard, and we strove to offer them a light in the darkness: a tangible (if digital-only) example of their work, followed by a real paycheck. Because we believed in them, and we continue to do so, and we believe in publishing, and writing, and reading and the need to keep innovating on an ancient product. 

We're not done yet. But we are on hiatus. In the meantime, you can read what you've already downloaded. Your app won't disappear. We'll be in the Batcave working on new, profitable ways to deliver exciting, curated fiction right into your hands. Because if we don't make money, we can't pay writers. And if we can't pay writers, we don't attract quality submissions, and we're just another free outlet: free to read, free to ignore.

Thank you for your support, and your time, and your hard earned money. We love you and appreciate everything you've done to make The Fog Horn a success.

Quinn, Bryan, Conor and Chris

We're in the LA Times!

2014-04-10 - TFH in LA Times 1.png

Thanks to David Ulin, book critic at the LA Times and fan of our little pub, for this awesome interview. We get tingly inside when the big boys embrace what we're trying to do here.

Have a read, and then do us a solid and pass along, would you?

-- The Team.

/Source

Say Hello to the Ladies of Issue #4

We're incredibly excited to announce the publication of Issue #4, our very first all-ladies issue. 

We're committed to publishing talented female voices from the world over, and this month we are very lucky to feature four women — Ellen Goodlett, Ajla Hodzic, DeAnna Knippling and Tlotlo Tsamaase — who just killed it. Along with a wide and wonderful variety of writing styles, they bring a truly international perspective: hailing from Colorado, New York, Bosnia and Bostwana. This issue is a blend of science-fiction and personal drama, with four original short stories that are compelling and complicated, with nary a clean ending in sight. 

But back to the ladies. I'm lucky to have had a legion of strong women in my life. I wouldn't be the same without them. My grandma escaped an under-siege France in World War II and then raised 9 amazing kids. My other grandma was a badass Radio City Rockette who traveled the world entertaining troops in the same war, and spent the rest of her life teaching underprivileged girls to dance. My mom raised 4 kids, is a teacher and has been a reading advocate her entire life. My sister-in-law and mother-in-law both have doctorates. My sister founded a non-profit providing free education to underprivileged women in Africa and is SO much smarter than me. My wife is a successful writer and amazing, kick-ass working-mom role-model and SO SO much smarter than me, and so if it sounds like I'm bragging, I AM THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

We are happily, eagerly and passionately committed to publishing great female voices and building a magazine women want to read and contribute to. In addition to the other amazing women we've already published, these four keep us on pace to do just that.

Pick up Issue #4 today!

— Quinn

PS: Say hi to The Goat. Find out more in "Between Dog and Wolf".

/Source

On Paying for Writing

No business which depends for existence on paying less than living wages to its workers has any right to continue in this country.
— F.D.R.
This is not F.D.R.

This is not F.D.R.

We at The Fog Horn believe people should be paid for hard work. So we support raising the minimum wage to a standard above and beyond a living wage.

From this same philosophy, we decided pay our writers $1000 for each published story. Well -- that's part of the reason. We also needed a way to stand out among the many outlets for writing in 2014. Paying writers at all would get us half-way there. That's how bad it is out there. But we wanted to draw a line in the sand, and $1000 felt strong.

So call it what you will: a beacon of light in the fog, a shot across the proverbial bow or a giant middle finger and "FUCK YOU" to the rest of the industry (you can guess our favorite).

Whatever your poison, the only thing that feels better than publishing a new voice is sending them a check.

Without decent pay, Americans are unable to contribute to the consumer economy (to say nothing of providing for their families). Without their contributions, businesses bring in less revenue (and can hire fewer employees); with less collective revenue, we have smaller growth and a smaller GDP; with a smaller GDP, the terrorists win, we can't fund a space program; if we can't fund a space program, we get hit by an asteroid that we didn't pay to deflect and the American dream dies (along with every living soul and hint of vegetation).

Pay your workers. So, at the very least, they can buy peanuts.

Homer: Twenty dollars? I wanted a peanut!

Homer’s brain: Twenty dollars can buy many peanuts!

Homer: Explain how.

Homer’s brain: Money can be exchanged for goods and services.

Homer: Woohoo!

Netscape for Books

Nintendo.jpg
1996-Palm-Pilot.jpg
Logo-Gateway.gif
aol-logo.jpg

It's happening again. It's happened before, and it'll keep happening.* Companies and industries fail to innovate, and everything comes crumbling down.

But not without a fight.

There's a fun new study that more or less slaps independent writers on the wrist and says "Have fun on food stamps. If you want a real paycheck, remember who keeps the lights on."

The new lesson from this study is that the chances of having a financially viable writing career may be best for hybrid authors and traditionally published authors.

Hey, cool! Thanks for the info, Mr. Dinosaur!** To us, and other super smart people like Brian O'Leary, this feels like another not-surprising example of established industry players defiantly standing still while the new world passes them by. Hope Netscape's treating you well, jerks.

So, let's pretend you haven't made it past the pearly gates at Random House, like everyone else. Have you considered independent publishing? Other formats? Done your research?

Independent authors are electing to sidestep the supply chain, publish without identifiers, and test new forms and new platforms that look nothing like a book.

Feels like a revolution to me.

So maybe your novel isn't ready yet, but there's never, ever been a better opportunity to experiment with a variety of formats. I'm sure you've heard about Kindle Singles, but have you tried The Atavist for non-fiction, The NewerYork for your crazier, experimental works or The Fog Horn? (blushes)

There's absolutely zero chance we can offer the sort of wealth that a traditionally published New York Times Bestseller implies. But we do offer $1000 for published short stories. And we feel like that's a hell of a start. The money's green, son.

So many new opportunities to make your mark. Don't fear the future.

Every word counts. Use the tools available to you and get paid.

We're ready when you are.

 

*Oh, and Final Draft? You're next.
** This is not to imply the dinosaurs died because they failed to innovate. But having a space program to research and deploy asteroid-deflection measures wouldn't have hurt. Ahem.

 

/Source

Dave Eggers on 15 Years

McSweeney's is a huge inspiration for what we're trying to do today, and I think founder Dave Eggers does a tremendous job in this piece summarizing exactly why we want to be publishers, in an age where everyone else is running away from publishing as fast as possible.

One doesn't really "publish" a screenplay. You spend months writing and rewriting, usually alone, and then you finally press send and let it electronically slide into the hands of friends, trusted advisers, agents, producers, executives, and so on. Pretty much the same, up to this point, as any other type of writing. The break becomes when, if your script has juice and you're incredibly lucky, someone decides to make it into a movie. At which point your screenplay is just a vehicle to get the movie made, and nobody ever really reads it again. Sure, within the industry it becomes a calling card to either get you more work, or, if it's terrible or the movie fails, make getting work that much more difficult. But outside of Hollywood, nobody has any idea what it says, aside from what they finally see on screen.

Anyways -- pressing "send" is terrifying. Up to that point, everything feels great. Confidence is running high. Then you press send and you instantly regret EVERY.SINGLE.WORD., and smash your computer against and through the drywall in hopes that the message and attachment won't escape via the goddamn digital throughway, because it if does it'll be ridiculed and we'll be shamed because OF COURSE it's terrible and the worst thing anyone's ever written and God, maybe they won't read it and/or we can steal their computer and make sure they'll never see it in the first place...

I say all this because publishing someone else's work -- like we did in Issue #1 -- is the opposite feeling. It's the most tremendous honor and rush to expose new writers to millions of potential readers, or even feature something new from someone more notable, who's trusting us to not fuck up their good name.

If we succeed in nothing else, I hope we break a few new voices who go on to do big things, and who manage to retain the voice that got them there in an otherwise vanilla publishing industry.

We can't wait to take a chance on you, so take a chance on us and send us a pitch for your best short story. If we love your work, we'll get it out there. We hope you like what we've published so far, and can't wait for Issue #2.

/Source

Announcing The Fog Horn

Today, we're very excited to launch The Fog Horn, our digital short fiction magazine. 

We publish curated short stories from Hollywood writers and new voices. It's available right now for your iPhone, iPad and iPod Touch for $3.99 a month and holy shit, now I'm kind of overwhelmed with excitement and does anybody have a paper bag or something I can breathe into?

For the past four months, we've been working our asses off to bring you an inviting new reading experience -- a streamlined, beautiful app filled with original content for today's on-the-go reader.

Issue #1 features stories by Corinne Stikeman, Molly Schoemann, Chris Starr and Jacob Sager Weinstein. They've written for HBO and FX, and previously been published by McSweeney's, The New Yorker, PRISM and more.

I want to thank (read: "bow before") our developer Conor Britain and art director Bryan Flynn for their awesome work getting us to launch. Conor worked diligently with our friends at TypeEngine to build a quick, intuitive app that puts the words on the page first. Bryan drew our masthead from scratch, as well as designing our icon and covers by hand with only a small, WWI-era pistol to his head. There's so much more incredible work to come from these two.

We hope you'll check out The Fog Horn. We offer a one week free trial for new subscribers. If you hate us after that, you can walk away forever. But I can't guarantee Conor won't come to your house with his potato gun or something. I seriously can't control that guy anymore.

Anyways.

Thanks for reading. Hope you like it!

Quinn

/Source