I sit there in the summer greenery six months ago. The sun rays are interspersed with raindrops. Blue sky is interspersed with dark clouds. nd then it strikes me: Why not start a publishing house? Really no new thought. It has been there from time to time for many, many years. I have always loved books.
I have always loved books as form and everything around them. Fonts, covers, binding, glue scent, book databases, cataloging, libraries, bookstores, antiquarian bookshops. The book as a medium appeals to me. It’s even so that I think the books’ glue scent is exciting. I have memories of books and events that are based precisely in glue scent! Am I a nerd?
But of course, it’s not just the form of books that has caught me. Above all, I have always loved the content of books. The stories narrated. The insights that are conveyed. The questions asked. The content catches me. The content that can take me to new marvelous strange worlds. Open new horizons. Give new friendships. Provoke. Challenge. Make me laugh … and cry.
Why not start a publishing house? Give back some of what I got myself. Stimulating the imagination. Encourage thoughtfulness. And inspire hope. It felt so obvious there and then. And a little over six months later I have a publishing house … and zero books published. But they will come! With the help of good friends’ cheering, generosity and many constructive ideas, today Spricka förlag exists, and an editorial board, four book agreements, ISBN numbers, distribution partners and all the things that belongs to being a publishing houser. So now we will see how it goes. It can’t be more than a failure … and that is not the end of the world.
I hope you in some way will join us on the journey!