Welcome to Fading Neon Press!

I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t fascinated by neon signs. 

 

French engineers developed the first neon signs in 1910. By the 1920s, neon lighting complemented Art Deco and Art Nouveau spaces. By the 1950s, neon had become so commercialized that it was everywhere. Historic photos of my small town in the 1950s—when it was a literal “one stoplight town”—show multiple businesses with neon signs. I was born in 1970, when it was too expensive to maintain neon but before LED lighting became a cheap, less-luminous alternative.

 

All that was left in my lifetime were the remnants, mostly just signs left to weather and dim, blinking erratically, if they could muster a charge at all. But they all served the same purpose.

 

They exist to grab our attention in an ever-darkening world. They exist to remind us that there is a place where we are welcome. They exist to let us know that if we just stop a moment, there is a seat, a bed, a drink, or a warm cup of coffee waiting for us. They are a proud artisan’s testimonial to their commitment to quality. It doesn’t matter if it hangs on the marquee outside the fanciest theater or above the door of the seediest bar; all of them offer the same message. “You need what we have. Come in and join us.”

 

I walked away from writing for over 25 years. Near the end of that fallow period, I took a trip down Route 66 with my oldest child to hunt for neon signs. When I returned to writing, my first two poems were about neon signs on that trip.

 

If I want anything from Fading Neon Press, it’s to publish works that feel like those signs to me: colorful beacons on a monotonous roadway, promising a well-lighted space and well-met needs.

 

Come on in.  Grab a book.  We got you until you’re ready to hit the road again.