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.
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???
You saved the best line for the last footnote: "Imagine if Spielberg had started with Fabelmans instead of Jaws."
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…
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.
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.
No one understands me. I'm sad.
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!