R. Renee Branca

Sometimes I look at the amount of work starting Eleventh Hour is going to take, and I wonder what I got myself into. Doing this from scratch feels kind of insane. But I really do think we have a great idea here, one that I haven’t seen in any other publication. And, like most people, I have a list of things I want to do before I’m dead, and creating something like this is on it. So here we are.

We already lost one editor and I’m onboarding another. Finding the right department to help us develop and host the website feels like a Greek odyssey. E, S, and I have a meeting with Libraries later this week to see about open access, digital repositories and copyright. And the honoraria, which I budgeted for and which the President’s Office approved, will now be a winner-takes-all payment to one contributor per issue.

On a brighter note, to celebrate the Cagibi publication, E gave me the entire Funko Pop lineup for the Cure. The whole band is now sitting on a bookshelf in my office on campus, wedged between The Complete Stories of Franz Kafka and Death on the Installment Plan. Mr. Smith is wearing black 80’s high-tops and bright red lipstick.

Sometimes small things can be perfect.