I want the brand to reflect a precocious, child-like sensibility. There should be an aspect of fantasy to it, wish-fulfillment: "Yes, we really are going to do that. We really are going to go there." When you talk to children, they often make outrageous plans, extend logic too far, and proliferate out of sheer momentum (ask a child to describe his/her vision of the perfect ski resort, vacation destination, amusement park, and you'll get something that doesn't quite make sense in places). I want Cavalier to be a grown up version of this exuberant envisioning. It should almost not make sense. A little stretched and strained in places (so that it's as if we're begging the question, "how far can a literary mag go? can it be a whole world?") and yet, polished in every respect. Child-like in ambition but adult in execution.
So please write to me. Tell me what you've always dreamed a lit mag might accomplish (oh I know, you're wondering why I chose to start a lit mag as opposed to some other business like a cafe or a boutique; what better venue for fantasy and adventure than creative writing, which for me is synonymous with those words; there is simply nothing more inherently FUN; certain writers manage to articulate the world in such truthful terms it feels inappropriate and illegitimate to be so deadly accurate; it becomes emotionally erotic to read, a real adventure, whether or not the work at hand actually concerns the subject of adventure).
Or write to me and just tell me something you wish existed in the world. A product, a service, a place, a community. At the very least, I will write back.
A word about our editorial tastes: yes, we love stories and poems that fit the aesthetic of our site snugly but we're looking for pieces that don't, as well. That jaggedness is important to us. So yes, stories and poems about hunting and fishing told in spare minimalist prose could definitely win us over.
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