Mark Z. Danielewski's The Promise of Meaning, a cross-genre piece of fiction, essay and script on the importance of poetry, reading, and language.

On Stealing Purses by John Powers, from his essay about the Bling Ring.

Separation by Michelle Huneven, from a short fiction story about a mother and daughter at a critical junction.

Tripping in Neza York by Daniel Hernandez, from his work of narrative journalism about Mexico City's youth culture.

"Power Lines," a pen and ink illustration from Sandow Birk.

"Binomial" by Kelly Fajack; poem on board by Polly Geller.

For more about Slake, read Jessica Hundley's Brand X cover story, Slaking their thirst: writing restored

"Power Lines" a pen and ink illustration from Sandow Birk.

Mark Z. Danielewski's The Promise of Meaning, a cross-genre piece of fiction, essay and script on the importance of poetry, reading, and language.

On Stealing Purses by John Powers, from his essay about the Bling Ring.

Separation by Michelle Huneven, from a short fiction story about a mother and daughter at a critical junction.

Tripping in Neza York by Daniel Hernandez, from his work of narrative journalism about Mexico City's youth culture.

Ballad of the Trunk Monkey Bandit by David Schneider, from a memoir about the actor's arrest in Texas.

"Binomial" by Kelly Fajack; poem on board by Polly Geller.

For more about Slake, read Jessica Hundley's Brand X cover story, Slaking their thirst: writing restored

From his work of narrative journalism about Mexico City's youth culture.

Mark Z. Danielewski's The Promise of Meaning, a cross-genre piece of fiction, essay and script on the importance of poetry, reading, and language.

On Stealing Purses by John Powers, from his essay about the Bling Ring.

Separation by Michelle Huneven, from a short fiction story about a mother and daughter at a critical junction.

Ballad of the Trunk Monkey Bandit by David Schneider, from a memoir about the actor's arrest in Texas.

"Power Lines," a pen and ink illustration from Sandow Birk.

"Binomial" by Kelly Fajack; poem on board by Polly Geller.

For more about Slake, read Jessica Hundley's Brand X cover story, Slaking their thirst: writing restored

'Binomial' by Kelly Fajack; poem on board by Polly Geller.

Mark Z. Danielewski's The Promise of Meaning, a cross-genre piece of fiction, essay and script on the importance of poetry, reading, and language.

On Stealing Purses by John Powers, from his essay about the Bling Ring.

Separation by Michelle Huneven, from a short fiction story about a mother and daughter at a critical junction.

Tripping in Neza York by Daniel Hernandez, from his work of narrative journalism about Mexico City's youth culture.

Ballad of the Trunk Monkey Bandit by David Schneider, from a memoir about the actor's arrest in Texas.

"Power Lines," a pen and ink illustration from Sandow Birk.

For more about Slake, read Jessica Hundley's Brand X cover story, Slaking their thirst: writing restored

Exclusive excerpts from Slake's debut issue:

Mark Z. Danielewski's The Promise of Meaning, a cross-genre piece of fiction, essay and script on the importance of poetry, reading, and language.

Separation by Michelle Huneven, from a short fiction story about a mother and daughter at a critical junction.

Tripping in Neza York by Daniel Hernandez, from his work of narrative journalism about Mexico City's youth culture.

Ballad of the Trunk Monkey Bandit by David Schneider, from a memoir about the actor's arrest in Texas.

"Power Lines," a pen and ink illustration from Sandow Birk.

"Binomial" by Kelly Fajack; poem on board by Polly Geller.

For more about Slake, read Jessica Hundley's Brand X cover story, Slaking their thirst: writing restored

More excerpts:

Mark Z. Danielewski's The Promise of Meaning, a cross-genre piece of fiction, essay and script on the importance of poetry, reading, and language.

On Stealing Purses by John Powers, from his essay about the Bling Ring.

Tripping in Neza York by Daniel Hernandez, from his work of narrative journalism about Mexico City's youth culture.

Ballad of the Trunk Monkey Bandit by David Schneider, from a memoir about the actor's arrest in Texas.

"Power Lines" a pen and ink illustration from Sandow Birk.

"Binomial" by Kelly Fajack; poem on board by Polly Geller.

For more about Slake, read Jessica Hundley's Brand X cover story, Slaking their thirst: writing restored

From a cross-genre piece of fiction, essay and script on the importance of poetry, reading, and language. Full piece appears in the debut issue of Slake magazine.

Exclusive excerpts from Slake's debut issue:

On Stealing Purses by John Powers, from his essay about the Bling Ring.

Separation by Michelle Huneven, from a short fiction story about a mother and daughter at a critical junction.

Tripping in Neza York by Daniel Hernandez, from his work of narrative journalism about Mexico City's youth culture.

Ballad of the Trunk Monkey Bandit by David Schneider, from a memoir about the actor's arrest in Texas.

"Power Lines," a pen and ink illustration from Sandow Birk.

"Binomial" by Kelly Fajack; poem on board by Polly Geller.

For more about Slake, read Jessica Hundley's Brand X cover story, Slaking their thirst: writing restored

It's hard to ignore the death knell: “Print is dead.” As editorial dollars dwindle and people now express themselves in 140 characters or less, literature gasps for air, pale, waning.

Laurie Ochoa and Joe Donnelly, formerly editor in chief and deputy editor of the LA Weekly, respectively, are attempting a resurrection. They've formed a united front against what they feel is the devolution of the written word with Slake, a new arts quarterly designed by Alexander Bacon, set to debut June 30.

Its aesthetic: A cross between the great Black Sparrow classic cover art and early Orange County hard-core posters. Its content: A mix of essay and memoir, rigorously reported journalism, eloquent rants, photo explorations, poetry, original art, and not-so-short fiction, with the longest story weighing in at 11,000 words. Its preferred medium: old-fashioned ink on tree pulp.

Their ambitions are grand — an artistically expansive print mag, far from the nexus of New York publishing, in a city misappropriated for being intellectually vapid. But Slake aims to defy those “outsider to L.A.” impressions and create a concrete forum for writers and artists. They're also trying to spark a movement they've termed “Slow Lit” — a push toward more substantial content and a call for readers to slow down and digest it.

Is this blind optimism? Maybe so. But much like local arts journal Penny Ante and the upcoming debut of the Web-only LA Review of Books, the Slake experiment is a kind of cultural Liberty Island in L.A., guiding the huddled, ink-stained masses — those writers, artists and photographers weary of blog-books, hollow husk short form and hysterical celebrity dish.

For the 232-page premiere issue, they've culled some of the city's finest illustrators, shutterbugs and scribes (among them: noir memoirist Jerry Stahl; Ochoa's husband, Pulitzer Prize winner Jonathan Gold; photographer Craig Stecyk; and artist Sandow Birk) seeking shelter from modern media. They've also planned a roster of upcoming events including readings, art shows and screenings.

Can Slake survive in a time when media consumers' attention spans are dwindling faster than the money in their bank accounts? The second issue of Slake is already underway, but its future is far from certain.

A product of both defiance and grace, Slake is founded on the faith that readers have not yet given up hope. We recently met with Donnelly and Ochoa in their tiny Echo Park office to get a sneak peek at their debut issue.

Brand X: How long has this idea been brewing?

Joe Donnelly: The germs of it go back to 1994.… I thought there was a paucity of quality publications in L.A. The gaps between how smart, exciting, funny and dynamic the city is, and how little in publishing reflects the city, has always struck me. [But] the scratching in the dirt that led to Slake started in earnest about three years ago, when I knew the LA Weekly would no longer be what it once was, with or without me. [Note: Brand X Editor Deborah Vankin was previously on staff at LA Weekly, and other BX staffers have freelanced there.]

BX: Why strike now?

Laurie Ochoa: We're at the beginning of a countertrend that feeds into the Facebook revolt and all the gripes about Yelp — that growing dissatisfaction with instant takes and unfiltered opinion. There's a hunger for slower, more polished storytelling, something beautifully designed and collectible, not disposable. Something to hang onto.

BX: You had a lot of odds against you. Why, of all things, a print quarterly — especially in L.A., where one wouldn't typically expect to find this type of publication?

JD: [L.A.] is the last place someone would expect this to start, but it shouldn't be because there are so many creative people here, so much talent, it's so rich and diverse, there are so many stories.... We felt it was a shame that all that intelligence and creativity didn't have a place to live. We think L.A. should be second to no city in terms of its art.

LO: We don't try to fit writing and images into a certain format, where everything sounds the same and has to be short and everything has to be fast. We think it's time to kind of step back and think, “How do we stop and tell our stories in a better way?” The storytelling is really important with Slake, the design is important. We wanted to make sure to create something you can hold, that you could keep by the bedside table. We wanted to create Slow Literature, in the same vein as the Slow Food movement. Something you take your time with.

JD: Our main objective throughout was respect the reader, respect their intelligence. There are no bells and whistles, no flash. Each major feature is treated like its own book — we let the text flow uninterrupted. There is no concession to short attention spans or the supposed dumbing down of culture.

LO: At the same time we didn't want to take everything so seriously — there are brief pieces in here, funny pieces, poignant pieces.

BX: Would you say that Slake is iconoclastic in spirit?

JD: Definitely iconoclastic, counterintuitive, a tad defiant and possibly a touch quixotic. I've jokingly called it a “beautiful mistake.” At the same time, I'm a man of letters and Laurie is a woman of letters. Our lives have been about working with artists and writers and helping bring their narratives to life. To us, words and images are for more than just information. They're for experience, for life.

LO: Throughout my career I've worked only for large-circulation publications with a corporate safety net. I'm used to having a lot of people read the stories I edit and write. But almost every editor nurtures a dream of creating something small and perfect, something that can grow at a manageable pace without having to resort to celebrity covers or advertorials to survive. When I used to report on restaurants for the [Los Angeles] Times, chefs would often tell me their dreams of opening small, personal restaurants where they could do their best work for just 20 people a night. This might be the journalistic equivalent of that.

BX: How did you find material for the debut issue?

LO: It's a curatorial process. We had the loose theme “Still Life,” but we were open. We're lucky enough to have these stories, which are passion pieces for these writers.

JD: We like to develop writers too, helping them to find their voices. You'll see a lot of famous names in here, but you'll also see a lot of unknowns as well.

BX: Do your contributors get paid?

JD: They get paid, but it's more like a token of appreciation than their usual rates.

BX: What's the business model for Slake?

JD: It's largely self-funded. We're obviously not in this to make money. The only thing we could guarantee, at the beginning, was that we would have one issue and it would be great.

LO: For this first issue, we decided we wouldn't make a big push for advertising — we wanted to show people what we could do first. But in the process of talking to just about every person I've met over the past few months, I managed to get a few people excited enough about the project that they wanted to support us. The Hammer Museum and Europane Bakery in Pasadena bought full-page sponsorships, and with the help of a sponsorship director we brought in as we were finalizing the pages, we were able to get support
from the 213 Group and many others who believe in what we're doing. It
gives us hope that with more time and effort we can make this a sustainable business.

BX: Is that realistic given the economy and current mediascape? Is Slake sustainable in the long run?

JD: We certainly hope it will be. We have ambitious plans. Book sales, subscriptions and limited sponsor support is what we're relying on. Before too long our website will also provide some revenues.

BX: Speaking of which: Why not produce Slake online only?

LO: We both love what the Web can do. We want to have a strong website. But we wanted to have something, again, that you could hold. Everyone talks about print being gone already, but it's not gone, it's still here. And we don't want to give up on it.

JD: To be honest, we got tired of people complaining that print is dead, that culture is dead — that writing is dead. We wanted to get up and take action.

--Jessica Hundley

Mark Z. Danielewski's The Promise of Meaning, a cross-genre piece of fiction, essay and script on the importance of poetry, reading, and language.

On Stealing Purses by John Powers, from his essay about the Bling Ring.

Separation by Michelle Huneven, from a short fiction story about a mother and daughter at a critical junction.

Tripping in Neza York by Daniel Hernandez, from his work of narrative journalism about Mexico City's youth culture.

Ballad of the Trunk Monkey Bandit by David Schneider, from a memoir about the actor's arrest in Texas.

"Power Lines," a pen and ink illustration from Sandow Birk.

"Binomial" by Kelly Fajack; poem on board by Polly Geller.

Photo: Slake's Joe Donnelly and Laurie Ocoha, by Robyn Von Swank for the Times.