Thursday, April 14, 2011

Break it Down

Image captured from this here video. Possibly offensive to you.
Gonna cuss with impunity here. Deal with it or go home.

I've mentioned here before that I'm working on a story that, basically, can be summed up as "puppets in hell."

It's grown by 6,000 words in just the last two days because I am loving the hell out of it.

I've got dozens and dozens of story ideas, but god damn, half of them I don't even want to bother with. This story? I wish I was writing it right now. Not because it's going to be something amazing. Not because it'll propel me to fame and fortune, but because I'm enjoying it.

I think it took this for me to realize that I'm just not cut out for the serious literary world. I'm no writer. I'm a weird guy who happens to write. Taking everything deadly serious has thus far lead to more than a few stories withering on the vine. Listening to Randall Coots' "Toaster of the Gods" on the Drabblecast was a wake up call. People can and do listen to really weird fiction. You'll get pushed by plenty of people to write serious stuff, but why? I don't want to hear another tale of "Guy X meets girl Y in war torn Z during the Battle of AA" There's already enough fiction out there that reads like non-fiction that doing so contributes as much to the world as does one jack-off doing the wave in a crowded stadium.

Is creating fiction that mirrors the world around us really the best we can do? Jesus Fucking Christ. I guaran-goddamn-tee you that for every novel about a poor Korean girl growing up in rural Wisconsin, there really is a poor Korean girl growing up in rural Wisconsin, or someone close enough that you could just as easily have your novel by asking the adult version of her to write down what it was like to grow up there.

Boring. You want stories about gang members growing up in the projects? Look to the fucking news. You want a story about an alcoholic who survives a tremendous car crash and turns his life around? News. Again. Story about a Vietnam veteran who comes back home to protesters hurling balloons full of piss? Shit, ask your uncle.

I want things I can't find here. I want to hear about that bug from space that glows in the dark. I want to read a story where a sock puppet is kidnapped... in HELL. I want to listen to a story about a toaster that thinks its God. I think we can do better than just regurgitating the world around us.


  1. Excellent post. What I say is, Reality's been very disappointing, especially lately, so we're damn well not going there.

  2. Since my last piece of writing was a letter to my local school board advocating for more planning time for elementary teachers, I'm confident I represent a more mundane point of view than most. I enjoy sci fi and fantasy as much as I enjoy pizza. Mostly, however, I eat more macrobiotically -- to stay healthy and sane. It is all in the balance.

  3. Balance is fine. I'd argue that we're out of whack too far in favor of bland realism.