We love to imagine our listeners literally
bounding up the stairs from the subway station, looking
up and seeing the crisp edges of white clouds in the sky,
catching that fresh breath as they listen to a story through
their earbuds. Our subscribers listen as they drive, walk
their dogs, and weed their gardens. They're taking a leap
with us into a bright future for stories. Today's multiplicity
of media allows authors to go wherever lovers of literature
want to take them.
We appreciate multiple meanings of the
word "bound." Our magazine is literally unbound.
We don't rely on paper, or even text on a screen. Our
stories exist only in a recorded format, unimaginable
in the age of Gutenberg. We aren't limited by geographical
boundaries, either (just the limitations that our listeners
understand English and have access to a computer).
The name Bound Off is also a
nod to the low-tech. Ann and I are both long-time knitters,
so we decided early on that our "podcast of stories"
must have a name related to the craft. When a piece of
knitting is bound off, it leaves the needles and can go
on to become a finished garment, blanket, mitten, scarf,
anything its maker chooses. To fulfill its intended use,
a bit more finishing is usually required. The knitter
must weave in the loose ends, graft that square to another,
sew up side seams, add buttons or fringe, et cetera.
Likewise, we select stories that are "off
the needles" and ready to be read out loud. (We evaluate
manuscripts the old-fashioned way.) For them to reach
their intended audience, we create a finished package
in which to present them. We knit together a podcast episode
through which readers can enjoy each story. And we couldn't
do it without the help of Mark Rushton, our audio engineer,
or Dave Robinson, our frequent reader. Both are musicians;
neither one knits.
