Each issue of Toner has a theme, and for this first issue, there can be none better than “the Writers’ Market.”

The actual ‘Writer’s Market’ is just a book. It’s a softcover about 1,200 pages long, and every year it lists all the different publications and publishing companies and agents interested in content for their magazines or websites or short story collections or portfolios. It’s a big list of names, titles, addresses and phone numbers.

But to those people struggling to scratch a career from the thin strokes of a ballpoint, it’s more than that. Writers look at that book and see 1,200 pages of options. Writers see 4,000 people who may just give them a chance. A writer’s copy of the Writer’s Market is dog-eared and worn, filled with highlights and circles and notes in the margin.

Because, to a writer, that book represents the hope that they might become a part of the market it advertises.

In this issue, we have five stories, all from different segments of the Writers’ Market, and each one from a new up and coming writer. Each with a unique idea of what this "Writers' Market" is.

And so, with these thin strokes of a ballpoint, Toner Magazine is born.

“. . . this is a story about the time I jumped out of a Cessna 182 at 10,000 feet without wearing a parachute. That’s not a metaphor, or a simile or anything. I did it. Obviously, I lived . . . ”

“. . . I reasoned that it wasn’t that big a deal not finding employment right away. This would be, after all, my last real chance at a summer vacation. Why not relax for a little while . . . ”

“ . . . the following pages were to be included as the introduction to ‘The Complete Short Works of Daniel Pagoda.’ Sadly, it turned out to be the last thing he ever wrote. Out of respect for Mr. Pagoda his wishes, plans for the book were abandoned . . . ”

“ . . . CU of printer as the ink on the letter dries. The letter reads, ‘Dear Mr. Larry David and Mr. Jerry Seinfeld. Hi, I’m eleven and I love your show. I wrote this script. Please read it’ . . . ”

“ . . . realizing the potential of my Almost Famous fantasy, I made a point of tracking down an exclusive Dispatch interview the next time the trio rolled into town. A few months later, I found myself parked in the back of their beat up van, using my haphazard haircut as credible proof that I could be the next Cameron Crowe . . . ”