Broken Moon Press -- Small Publisher Has Turned The Page And Is Aiming For More Than Just Marginal Success -- Bound With Care

CUTLINE: COPYRIGHT, 1989, GALEN GARWOOD: ALL AFTERNOON THE CHILLING SCREEEE OF THE HAWK. SO CLOSE I THOUGHT I COULD TOUCH HIM. AND NOW THIS SENSE OF FALLING.

FROM: PASSPORT -- POEMS BY: SAM HAMILL -- PAINTINGS BY: GALEN GARWOOD.

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An award-winning disaster.

It sounds like a contradiction in terms. And when the phrase describes the first effort of a fledgling publishing house, the prognosis for the young firm would not seem to be rosy.

John Ellison and Lesley Link see it another way.

After their Broken Moon Press survived a minefield of calamities to publish ``Passport,'' a book of poems by Sam Hamill and paintings by Galen Garwood, they knew they were ready for anything.

``I've always felt like that book was the ultimate test - if we could do that one, we could do any one,'' said Link as she and Ellison recounted a litany of misadventure that preceded release of the book in February 1989: the paste-ups for each page, just back from the typesetter, were lost in express mail to the printer; some photographs of Garwood's paintings had to be reshot; and the Port Townsend artist had to re-create two lost paintings.

Things got even tenser - after invitations for a publication party in a Pioneer Square art gallery had been sent out.

``Actually, it was a `12th-hour' operation,'' said Ellison, who smiles now about the stomach-churning finale to their efforts: They didn't receive the finished books until the afternoon before the party, after a frantic search through railway cargo containers, and they were stopped by police for expired license-plate tags en route to the celebration.

``It turned out to be a wonderful evening - Sam read some of his poems, and about 200 people showed up,'' says Link. ``It was really a good test for us; it's one of the hardest projects we will ever have done.''

If they saved the hardest for first, things have hardly gotten less demanding for Ellison and Link. ``Passport,'' whose royalties are dedicated to the Northwest AIDS Foundation in memory of the late Port Townsend composer Jon Brower, eventually won two national design awards as well as the Governor's Book Award for Hamill and Garwood. Since then, Broken Moon has published 10 more books - seven collections of poetry and three of essays.

In the process, it has become one of the nation's most vigorous new small-press publishers, a house whose books are notable both for their literary quality and their design and production standards. Quite simply, Broken Moon is attracting attention.

``They've come a very long way, very, very fast,'' says Kurt Etchingham, a small-press veteran who is director of the Independent Literary Publishers Association. ``Typically with a small press, their first efforts are amateurish, but Broken Moon's were very professional from day one.''

Etchingham's organization has a national sales force that markets the work of 22 small presses across the nation, including such respected houses as Buffalo's White Pine Press and Chicago's Dalkey Archive Press, publisher of Felipe Alfau's recent National Book Award nominee, ``Chromos.'' A year ago, the association began representing Broken Moon.

``They've got a very aggressive publishing program - in only their second year they were up to eight books a year,'' said Etchingham. ``They've grown to one of our top six in terms of sales.''

He added that Broken Moon books have ``good sell-through'' - that is, the association typically gets reorders, rather than returns, from bookstores.

Broken Moon recently published one of its most ambitious books yet, ``A Poet's Work: The Other Side of Poetry,'' a collection of 18 essays by Hamill, a Port Townsend poet and translator who also is founder of Copper Canyon Press, one of the nation's most respected poetry publishers. Though pricey for a paperback - $19.95 - it is a provocative 230-page book featuring a handsome cover painting by Oregon artist Carl Morris; it won the best-design award at Bumbershoot's literary-arts fair this year.

By the end of this month, three new Broken Moon titles will be available: ``Imaginary Ancestors,'' a collection by Seattle poet Madeline DeFrees; ``Inconstant History,'' a poetry collection by Gregory McNamee, a Tucson-based writer, translator and editor; and ``River-Root: A Syzygy,'' a re-publication of a long narrative poem by San Francisco icon William Everson that has been described as ``the most sustained orgasmic celebration in English, perhaps in all literature.''

In all, pretty heady stuff for a pair of technical editors at Microsoft - which is what Ellison and Link do ``for a living.'' Broken Moon is merely the passion that dominates their waking hours apart from full-time jobs at the Eastside software giant.

``The reality of Broken Moon is that we work all the time,'' says Ellison, a 31-year old Tacoma native. ``But it's the best, most interesting work I've ever had. But the cost is a kind of mental fatigue.''

``It's very hard work, but it's the most fun I've ever had,'' agrees Link. ``It's not hard in the sense that we ever feel we have to struggle with it - it's not crisis-oriented - but it's very demanding.''

The partners met five years ago, when Ellison was hired as a technical editor at Microsoft; Link, who had worked there for a year, was his copy editor. They soon discovered they were a rare combination: co-workers of very different temperaments who communicated smoothly, almost intuitively. They shared many values and interests, including books.

``We both really like working on technical material, but the truth is, six months after you've done it, people throw it away - it's obsolete,'' says Link. ``We got into (Broken Moon) to do something lasting, something meaningful - and it's filling that need.''

In name at least, Broken Moon has existed since Ellison's student days at Pacific Lutheran University in the early '80s, when he took a course in letterpress history, design and publishing. It was taught by Tree Swenson, who is copublisher of Copper Canyon Press and Sam Hamill's wife; she also is one of the most respected book designers in the nation.

``For years I was filled with the romantic notion of running my own letterpress, but I didn't have any idea of how to make it a business,'' recalls Ellison. A communications major with poetry ambitions, he took the Broken Moon name from a line of poetry by Richard Shelton, an Arizona poet with whom he studied one summer at the Port Townsend Writers' Conference.

``Shelton said it was the most perfect line he'd ever written - `Broken moon rising from the closet floor,' '' recalled Ellison. ``At first, it had no significance outside of that line, but it's come to mean a lot. I think of it as standing for a rebuilding kind of energy - not broken as in `broken spirit.' ''

In 1983, he went so far as to buy an old newspaper letterpress - ``Part of the reason I was able to buy it was that nobody in their right mind would have bought it'' - and publish a poetry chapbook by R.P. Jones, one of his professors at PLU. For the most part, however, he used the Broken Moon name to sponsor local poetry readings.

The old ``romantic notion'' was reborn after Ellison joined Microsoft and met Link, a 38-year-old Colorado native who came to the Northwest 20 years ago to study psychology and math at the University of Puget Sound. After graduating in 1973, she worked 10 years as a family therapist treating emotionally disturbed children.

``I just woke up one day and realized that I didn't want to do it any more,'' said Link. So she answered an ad for proofreaders at Microsoft Press in 1984 and worked there until early 1986, when she moved to the applications division and met Ellison.

Their simpatico relationship soon revealed itself, leading to long discussions about books and literature. In April 1987, they resurrected Broken Moon and formed a 50-50 partnership with the idea of publishing the kinds of books they valued.

They also want to make money. Although ``Passport'' received partial funding from the Washington State Arts Commission and the upcoming ``Imaginary Ancestors'' will benefit from a portion of DeFrees' $5,000 publication prize from the King County Arts Commission, Broken Moon has not sought nonprofit status like many other small presses.

``So, if you don't sell, you don't exist,'' says Ellison.

``We very much want to make this a business, to be viable, publishing books for years to come,'' adds Link. ``Also, we very much want to publish stuff that challenges readers - and we don't want people looking over our shoulder. We didn't want to deal with a funding agency saying, `No, you can't publish this kind of thing.'

``With the changing political climate in this country, and the economic climate, I feel much better relying on myself. ''

Ellison estimates that he and Link have so far invested a total of $75,000 to $100,000 in Broken Moon, including near-fatal cost overruns on ``Passport'' and the purchase of computer equipment to aid in editing, design and record-keeping.

``Our sales have started to make a difference,'' says Ellison. ``The numbers are small, but the numbers are encouraging. We're projecting that next year could be our first break-even year.''

They also intend to broaden Broken Moon's literary horizons.

``John and I are both dedicated to publishing poetry,'' says Link, ``but the truth is, poetry is not financially viable - unless, like Copper Canyon, you get known for specializing in it.''

Eight books are planned for 1991, including their first works of fiction - two short-story collections - and they have begun to sign up books for 1992. With a rough five-year plan as a guide, Ellison and Link hope to stabilize at about 12 books per year, equally divided among fiction, poetry and essays, and to hire at least two full-time staff members, including a marketing specialist.

Initial press runs of Broken Moon books have ranged from 2,000 to 4,000 copies - for tax purposes, they try to avoid sitting on a large inventory - and they may go back to press next year on their two best-selling volumes: ``The Dance of the Dust on the Rafters,'' a collection of 12th-century Japanese poems translated by Yasuhiko Moriguchi and David Jenkins, and ``The Rainbow World,'' a collection of essays about Japan and poetry translations by Burton Watson.

But it hasn't always been easy. A dispute during preparation of ``A Poet's Work'' - a late decision not to publish both a hardcover edition and a lower-priced paperback - led to a rupture with Hamill. After four books with Broken Moon, his next two will be published by New Directions and by Shambhala, an imprint of Random House.

``It would be a mistake to assume that we moved smoothly to the Broken Moon of today,'' admits Ellison, noting that their biggest problem has been learning to control production costs.

``It's like on every project, there are things that we learn,'' adds Link. ``I wouldn't necessarily call them mistakes. But it's an evolutionary thing - we are learning things as we go along, and we're becoming more professional as a business. I see this steady progression.''

Each ``project'' involves tapping a changing ``core group'' of Seattle-based designers, editors and marketers, including artist Nick Gregoric, who oversees book designs. Most of it is accomplished in a tidy, book- and computer-filled Fremont home they rented last year after outgrowing a loft space on Western Avenue. In his few sleeping hours, Ellison uses a small bedroom upstairs; Link rents her own place a few blocks away.

Next year Broken Moon may require even larger quarters. In the spring, Broken Moon's first catalog of its books will come out, and it is joining with White Pine Press to publish a biennial promotional tabloid of news about the presses and their authors, as well as excerpts from upcoming books. It will be directed toward booksellers and individuals on their extensive mailing list - as are the posters, T-shirts and coffee mugs bearing Broken Moon's logo.

Link says Broken Moon won't ever grow to the point where she and Ellison will have to concentrate solely on business, leaving the books to someone else.

``We want to continue to read the manuscripts that come in - we don't want to lose sight of that,'' she says. ``For us, success will be maintaining our editorial vision.''

``My gift is to make books, not to write them,'' adds Ellison, who gave up his own poetry in 1986. ``People often ask me how I give it so much energy, but I ask them, `Didn't you have a 2-year-old? Well, this is my 2-year-old.'

``For me, it's my family.''