While hypertextual fiction and poetry have been around for a decade, they nevertheless seem to get "re-discovered" every time a new reporter or newspaper writes a piece about the genres. Because of this, journalistic criticism about electronic literature — which Katherine Hayles, a professor at UCLA, notes "is approximately doubling every month or two" — is oddly and unfortunately stalled.

Where things have progressed beyond re-introducing the concept of electronic literature (again and again), a minor skirmish has broken out. Briefly, on one side there are critics who find the terms "hypertext" and "literature" to be oxymoronic. These folks argue that literary hypertexts distort the true processes of both creating and reading literature.

On the other side are those who are interested in the ongoing constitution of literature in and through technological media. These critics see "hypertext literature" as literature first, the way "kinetic sculpture," for example, is adamantly sculpture. Proponents of this view believe that changing the structures and strategies of literature — as the use of typewriters, photographs, video, and other technologies have changed writing and reading this century — is inevitable, even useful.

Margorie Luesebrink has been there — writing in new media forms and teaching about them — if not from the beginning, then at least shorty afterwards. She's a pioneer in the field, an active and inventive writer, and fine spokesperson for the art.

I first read Luesebrink's work several years ago in a rough-draft version of her ground-breaking Califia — a dense, complicated, (sometimes ironic and funny) heavily-hyperlinked "novel" on CD that excavates the past of five generations' lost memories in California. It's a powerful piece that moves the entire genre forward a step or two and it has been eliciting praise from many literary quarters.

I asked Marjorie some questions about her work and the developing field in general, believing her answers might usefully complicate the question many are now asking: What are we talking about When We Talk about Literature in these Digital Times?

Thom Swiss: Marjorie, some readers of PopMatters may not be immediately aware of what we mean when we talk about "electronic literature" and hypertextual literature. Can you give us your definition of the broader field and how your own work claims a place in it?

Marjorie Luesebrink: Ah, "electronic literature" is a word still slouching toward definition. In the broadest sense, electronic literature includes all wriitng that is produced in electronic form. This would include everthing from the reproduction of, say, Pride and Prejudice on the web, to works produced for electronic reading devices such as Soft-Book or E-Book, to Stephen King's new novel, The Plant, which can be downloaded by readers in installments.

One subset of electronic literature is "hypertextual" — that is, literature which is characterized by mulitple links from pages or sections, multilinear structures, and a spatial or temporal organization. The best-known works of this hypertext sub-category include the Eastgate Systems titles — disk-based hypertexts written in Storyspace, like Michael Joyce's Afternoon, a story. But hypertext poetry and fiction have been available on the web, too, for several years.

In the last five years, though, the "hypertextual" electronic literature has seen the blossoming of yet another subset — that of hypermedia. Hypermedia literature usually has a multilinear form, but also uses graphics, sound, animation, or video as part of the content.

My work falls into the "hypermedia" category — I've been using sound and graphics since my first electronic web-based piece, The Virtual Mausoleum, in 1995. No one is quite sure what to call this new form, though. "Hypermedia" is a useful moniker, but we are also seeing names like "Web Art," "New Media Literature," "Web-specific Literature," and so forth. This is a fluid field, and the evolution of technology makes for rapid changes, a fusion of genres, and a variety of approaches.

No matter what we call this new hypermedia work, it is surely a fascinating form with myriad possibilities for expanding our literature vocabulary. Your own "City of Bits," Thom, which will be featured as part of a survey of new media work in Riding the Meridian this fall, is a good example of the poetry-narrative-art blending of genre, the construction of stories with an entirely new syntax of signs.

TS: While much of your work is in the area of hyertextual writing, you came out of a fairly traditional MFA program at Irvine, yes? Can you talk a little about the relationship of new media writing to what was or what is currently being taught in the writers workshops around the country?

ML: A good question! Despite the fact that writers have always been innovators, institutions are slow to change.  Right now, hypertext and hypermedia authors are still struggling for recognition within academic programs — in literature, criticism, and creative writing.

The conservative view holds that hypermedia is NOT literature. (The arguments against electronic hypermedia include the "you can't read it in the bathtub" objection, the "smell of leather" objection, the "commerical junk" objection, etc.) The MFA Program at UC Irvine seems to be fairly representative in this case. Some individuals are interested in electronic forms (Oakley Hall arranged for readings from Califia at the Squaw Valley Writer's Conference, for example), but until hypermedia is accepted by critics and literature teachers, many new writers are reluctant to take the risk and invest the time to enter the field. The traditional writer's workshops across the country have not moved into hypertext very much.

TS: Ah, the power of our old ways! I think you are right about what you say. Any hope of change in the near future?

ML: Well, the resistance is beginning to evaporate. Literary magazines such as Iowa Review Web and New River are now publishing excellent work on-line, The Norton Anthology of PostModern Fiction included hypertext in its most recent edition, and the Whitney and the Guggenheim have featured new media narrative and art in projects this year. As the well-recognized showcases begin to pay attention to hypermedia work, more writers and writing programs will consider it "legitimate."

In general, interest in hypermedia has come from New Media programs at schools like Brown, UCLA, Georgia Tech, NYU, MIT, Suny Buffalo, and from leading-edge critics in traditonal English departments such as Katherine Hayles and George Landow, or media critics like Jay Bolter.

TS: You spent a long time writing Califia. Can you talk about the process of writing it, programming it, publishing it? Most readers will know the processes do not replicate those of publishing a "traditional" novel, but what are the differences? And how do those differences make creating and publishing hypertextual literature more or less of a challenge, artistically and economically?

ML: I want to start with the last part, the "economic" issue. Much has been made of the fact that the "market" for interactive hypermedia is so small and devoid of profit. But I am not so sure that this is really a new problem. Writers and artists have always needed to choose among different profitability models — roughly: celebrity, commercial, or limited-audience options. Fiction writers, with the exeception of a very few celebrities, have always needed a day job, too.

A writer who was used to publishing his print short stories in little literary journals such as Salt Hill, and getting three sample copies, is much better off now, publishing on the web. Still no money, but a wider audience and the added longevity of on-line archives. Writers of "literary" print novels have generally had a small readership, meagre royalties. A poet could always make more cash selling jokes to Playboy than writing poetry. The advent of electronic distribution has not yet changed the basic economic situation very much for the "serious" writer or artist. (We do it for love of the craft, right?)

The issue of profitability for publishers is a much more sticky problem. The Electronic Literature Organization will be hosting a conference next spring to address some of the electronic publishing models — more info at eliterature.org.

However, the creative investment for a hypermedia writer is much greater than for print. No more the old selectric typewriter and the ream of paper. New media writers and artists need to keep their equipment upgraded, buy and try the new software, learn and re-learn the complex coding for CD-ROM and web production. While the cost of a CD has dropped to less than a dollar, and one can put up a website for a song, the cost of the authoring tools continues to skyrocket, and writers are always scraping around for another 20 gigabytes of storage or spending valuable time mastering the latest version of Dreamweaver.

Which brings me back to Califia. It did take years — but print novels often take a long time, as well. The difference was, instead, in complexity.

The "text" of Califia runs about 300 pages, if you were to just print out all the written words — so the text needed the same attention that a print novel would, researching, writing, rewriting, proofing (with the invaluable assistance of Diane Greco). However, Califia is embedded in a structure of some 800 screens, 30 music clips, and over 2,400 images. While I did have a linear version of some of the text, I began the work with the whole concept in mind, so I was always operating within the larger scope of the project. The tricky part was shaping the story to the constraints of the technology/media.

In a novel such as this, so many elements come into play, and all of them are inter-related. For example, about mid-stream, I decided to change the screen resolution. That meant changing the type faces, the navigation icons, the menus, the length of text on a screen, the size of the graphics, the position of elements on the page, the size of the pop-up windows, and so on. Or, securing credits for graphics and music.

I was lucky enough to have a garage-full of California artifacts and photos, but all of the music needed to be licensed. The Grateful Dead were gracious and helpful in getting me master copies of thier music, and several local musicians donated their work to the project, but I spent the better part of a year securing the copyrights to the media that I wanted to use. And, in the cases where I could not afford the rights — another re-write.

Lest all of this sound discouraging, let me add that making Califia was one of the most exciting and rewarding activities I can imagine — the challenge of the medium, the delight in a totally new vocabulary of storytelling, the sensory pleasure of color, sound, image, and structure; every day was a fresh adventure, a journey across the horizon of creative risk-taking.

TS: For our curious readers: can you name some of your own favorite poets, fiction writers, artists — who are working in a hypertextual mode? Readers, like me, who like your work might find some other good things out there by following a trail... Can you provide us with one?

ML: I tend to like work that has a substantial text element, is structurally intricate, is visually attractive, and allows the reader a high level of choice.  Christy Sheffield Sanford's work is incredibly beautiful, as is Reiner Strasser's — and Stuart Moulthrop's Reagan Library is a wonder of construction.  But I often find myself enchanted with pieces that do something else entirely — there is such variety!!

The best thing for readers to do is sample some works, find an author or artist they like, and go from there.... The spring issue of Riding the Meridian (edited by Jennifer Ley) has a collection of 39 women doing web-specific work in English — "The Progressive Dinner Party." In collaboration with Carolyn Guertin, I curated this piece for readers who might like to know more about hypermedia fiction and art. The easiest way to get to this piece is to access it from my site, but you can also find it under the Theory Section of Riding the Meridian.

The fall issue of Riding the Meridian (October) will feature 40 men working in web-specific literature.  I'm calling it "Jumpin' at the Diner." In addition to finding intriguing works like your "City of Bits," Jennifer and I hope readers will be able to review some of the classic web hypertexts, see new works by familiar writers (I especially like Michael Joyce's new piece, "Reach"), and experience the surprising range of new work appearing on the web in various publications.

After all, the whole point of hypermedia literature is to offer the reader an active choice, a "lean-forward" participation rather than a "lean-back" passivity.  So, readers should follow their interests and desires in exploring these works!

TS: Congatulations again, on finishing this project. What's next for you? Do you know yet?

ML: Thank you! During the last three years, while I was fine-tuning the details of Califia, I began doing a series of short works. Several of these have been published in on-line zines, Iowa Review Web, Cauldron and Net, Aileron, Salt Hill, New River, etc. When I am finished, probably next year, I will publish eight of these as a collection of short web pieces under the title "Fingerprints on Digital Glass."

And, you would think, wouldn't you, that I would avoid epic-sized projects in the future? But stories have their own momentum and proportion. I am currently at work on another novel, this one for the web, called The Book of Going Forth by Day. This piece blends contemporary and ancient narratives of Egypt, using hierogyphics, legends, and material from The Egyptian Book of the Dead to explore the visual representation of ideas and words, the mysteries of our relationship to life and death. It poses new challenges, involves a whole different set of structural possibilities, and promises to make for an exciting year ahead.