This gives my lack-of-“dad-on-top”-trauma life hope for my writing. Unless, well, you would count failing grade one as traumatic. In that case, just call me special. I love the bandaids with the little spaceships and moons.
I don’t know if this is the best post from this SubStack, but I’d say it’s definitely one of them.
And it’s crazy to think that a few decades ago people were having issues owning property. Thank God that was an issue that got resolved and hasn’t in anyway shape of form exacerbated to the point of complete disillusionment amongst the current generation.
On a completely unrelated note, would anyone be interested in pooling together their life savings so that we can buy a garden shed which we can then subdivide amongst each other???
This post came at the right time for me. I have this fun idea, well it's a thriller and it so much fun to write. I'm so tired of conjuring up traumatic childhood memories.
to give dangerous writing some kudos though... using that technique has brought up memories I never knew existed. It's like a magic trick.
This rings true for me. I dumped my trauma story on a remarkable writing teacher who helped me see what a narcissist the *protagonist* (cough cough, me) was. I'm actually very glad I wrote it all out. Kind of like the 4th step in a 12-step CODA program. I am now happily writing and performing standup comedy. Here's to fun!
God, you have been reading my thinly veiled trauma for 2 years and it hasn't made me a better person. Fuck I need to go make something of myself then. Are crossroads demons still a thing? Just kidding. I got a eldrich horror on speed-dial. I mean come on. It's only my sanity at stake. In the next few months I'm going to get published in the New York Times, then the sky is the limit. I plan on being the first best selling author on Mars.
I don’t know why I needed this. Or needed to hear it from you.
Due to some weird life things I haven’t written fiction for fiction’s sake in a little over a year. At first it wasn’t on purpose. But then I started to feel like no one really needs what I’ve got. Then I found myself mindlessly gobbling up an author I had no previous interest in or no real desire for. Alice Hoffman.
What started as curiosity became a fevered obsession to take every one of her words in. This is not my usual cup of tea.
When I finished, I sighed to a friend that I was mad at Alice for publishing The Red Garden and not filling out every single short story in that book to create a catalog that would last the rest
of my reading life.
My friend said, “I’ve been waiting on your second, third and fourth novel for years now. Do you know how rude you are by not publishing them? Who cares if they’re shit. People want to roll around in shit books from time to time, why not yours?”
Then I find your email while I’m batch deleting. I’ve avoided reading your emails for months. I pay to receive them but avoided them like my life would end. Because I knew you’d say something. Share a nugget. Something would punch me in the gut and I’d have to act.
Thanks for the gut punch. Sorry for blathering. I met you once. I blathered then too. Whatever, it’s fine.
You always know just what to say Mr Palahniuk. My favorite comedians/writers are the ones who run a lot of If-you-don't-like-me-blow-me energy. If I don't care if anyone likes me then I have nothing to lose. And I always remember Edgar Allen Poe died in a gutter so god only knows what's going to happen to my dumb ass.
Alright for me it's hard to channel that not-giving-a-shit energy though. Bit it's great when you do, no doubt.
As I've gotten older I've become very aware that I'm aware of what people 'may' think about what I would write. I say what I would write, as I haven't written anything, not really. I have several pages of collected sentences, a few collected sentences of two or three. I would understand if I was trying to write that spilling-my-guts-at-your- feet story you were talking about but I'm actually pretty good at coming up with ideas and concepts for stories but they all lack that deeper meaning, so really, I'm suffering from the opposite deficit.
The best and most accurate way I've heard to describe it (and the most crude) is that 'Im all fart and no poo', in other words I lack substance. I'm good at coming up with plots or an intriguing premise, but I lack that emotional subtext.
Do you have any advice on how to tackle that one, Mr. Chuck, sir?
You’re the best, Chuck.
He really is one of a kind, nobody like Chuck. He's unapparelled.
And Joe! Hello!
Unapparelled? Not in this cold weather.
There’s those spelling mistakes I’ve come to love. Hehee.
Chuck taught me how to love mistakes lol
Same.
You're back! Nice to hear from you Chuck!
I click on some of the posts that offer writing advice here on the ‘Stack but none of them come close to Chuck.
Atticus! Jake! I hope you've both had a good, productive winter.
Ur back!!!
I have! Big things happening! Welcome back! How’s the sci-fi coming along?
Sci-fi is good. Hope you and your music are going well.
This gives my lack-of-“dad-on-top”-trauma life hope for my writing. Unless, well, you would count failing grade one as traumatic. In that case, just call me special. I love the bandaids with the little spaceships and moons.
I don't even have the trauma of failing grades to fall back on. I guess I'll have to turn rainbows and unicorns to "dad-on-top" via alchemy.
You did suck your mom’s tit at some point. That’s fucking sick, yo.
Hahaha, oh thank god, some trauma to mine!
You got this you dirty mama’s boy. Freud would be proud!
Well, psychoanalysis is bullshit, so I'm not so sure about Freud. But my mom will certainly be proud!
In the words of Luba: “ We are made we are not born.”
I don’t know if this is the best post from this SubStack, but I’d say it’s definitely one of them.
And it’s crazy to think that a few decades ago people were having issues owning property. Thank God that was an issue that got resolved and hasn’t in anyway shape of form exacerbated to the point of complete disillusionment amongst the current generation.
On a completely unrelated note, would anyone be interested in pooling together their life savings so that we can buy a garden shed which we can then subdivide amongst each other???
Too late. I already bought the cardboard box on the side of the highway that’s wrapped in Saran Wrap. 25 years and she’s all mine.
Guess I’ll just continue living in the sewers while using Wi-Fi from the local McDonald’s then
Well, the advantage of sewers is that they are the pet friendly option.
With the first 20 years going towards interest but you can totally get a HELOC to upgrade the Saran Wrap after 5 haha
Well thank you. My mortgage advisor never told me that.
I feel this, but could we make it a shed that’s also a self sustaining earth ship in which to grow food? If so, count us in!
You saved the best line for the last footnote: "Imagine if Spielberg had started with Fabelmans instead of Jaws."
He always ends with a banger
This post came at the right time for me. I have this fun idea, well it's a thriller and it so much fun to write. I'm so tired of conjuring up traumatic childhood memories.
to give dangerous writing some kudos though... using that technique has brought up memories I never knew existed. It's like a magic trick.
I remember hearing you share this advice somewhere, some number of years ago.
Out of all the different things I’ve learned to try and better my writing, this has probably been the most important.
What a great read. For me the takeaway is not to take shit too damn seriously and remember to have fun!
This rings true for me. I dumped my trauma story on a remarkable writing teacher who helped me see what a narcissist the *protagonist* (cough cough, me) was. I'm actually very glad I wrote it all out. Kind of like the 4th step in a 12-step CODA program. I am now happily writing and performing standup comedy. Here's to fun!
I wonder what the industry phrase is for the typical cliche “gay coming of age” novel…
Narnia Novels. As in, they're so far in the closet they're in Narnia.
God, you have been reading my thinly veiled trauma for 2 years and it hasn't made me a better person. Fuck I need to go make something of myself then. Are crossroads demons still a thing? Just kidding. I got a eldrich horror on speed-dial. I mean come on. It's only my sanity at stake. In the next few months I'm going to get published in the New York Times, then the sky is the limit. I plan on being the first best selling author on Mars.
Make sure you write something about that Marlboro Man of yours. If you may of course.
Hahaha you haven't even seen the real horrible stuff I wrote about a dutch wife.
Pass the link
Oh I don't have that one online.
Can't wait for you to post it.
I need to edit it. They tore it apart during workshop.
Hey, a little secret, I wanna cuddle that Marlboro man so bad.
Tbh I feel like you’ve got this on lock my bipolar says NYT or bust and is cheering louder than anyone @Seattle snowflake
Thank you for this.
I don’t know why I needed this. Or needed to hear it from you.
Due to some weird life things I haven’t written fiction for fiction’s sake in a little over a year. At first it wasn’t on purpose. But then I started to feel like no one really needs what I’ve got. Then I found myself mindlessly gobbling up an author I had no previous interest in or no real desire for. Alice Hoffman.
What started as curiosity became a fevered obsession to take every one of her words in. This is not my usual cup of tea.
When I finished, I sighed to a friend that I was mad at Alice for publishing The Red Garden and not filling out every single short story in that book to create a catalog that would last the rest
of my reading life.
My friend said, “I’ve been waiting on your second, third and fourth novel for years now. Do you know how rude you are by not publishing them? Who cares if they’re shit. People want to roll around in shit books from time to time, why not yours?”
Then I find your email while I’m batch deleting. I’ve avoided reading your emails for months. I pay to receive them but avoided them like my life would end. Because I knew you’d say something. Share a nugget. Something would punch me in the gut and I’d have to act.
Thanks for the gut punch. Sorry for blathering. I met you once. I blathered then too. Whatever, it’s fine.
You always know just what to say Mr Palahniuk. My favorite comedians/writers are the ones who run a lot of If-you-don't-like-me-blow-me energy. If I don't care if anyone likes me then I have nothing to lose. And I always remember Edgar Allen Poe died in a gutter so god only knows what's going to happen to my dumb ass.
Mozart died in the gutter too. They piled his body down in a mass grave. Life's unfair.
Oh I know that story very well as well. If Mozart can die in an unmarked grave than it's good enough for me.
No one understands me. I'm sad.
I understand that.
I have sticker presents for the whole class tomorrow! Im so excited to who everyone my new design creation!
Sage advice as always.
Alright for me it's hard to channel that not-giving-a-shit energy though. Bit it's great when you do, no doubt.
As I've gotten older I've become very aware that I'm aware of what people 'may' think about what I would write. I say what I would write, as I haven't written anything, not really. I have several pages of collected sentences, a few collected sentences of two or three. I would understand if I was trying to write that spilling-my-guts-at-your- feet story you were talking about but I'm actually pretty good at coming up with ideas and concepts for stories but they all lack that deeper meaning, so really, I'm suffering from the opposite deficit.
The best and most accurate way I've heard to describe it (and the most crude) is that 'Im all fart and no poo', in other words I lack substance. I'm good at coming up with plots or an intriguing premise, but I lack that emotional subtext.
Do you have any advice on how to tackle that one, Mr. Chuck, sir?
I needed this post the way some people need a punch in the teeth. Thanks, Chuck!