bITS 'N CHUNKS
Annnnd it marinates. Greetings friends, this month looks like we're going to be looking at more excerpts and shit of work -- my work, college hardly qualified me to examine other people's work. I did almost fail Literary Criticism after all! So, let me talk about a couple things: the draft, criticism vs fucking yourself up, and how long to let something mutate in your files. First off, let me just mention that everything I learned about writing I learned from my background in art. I do not art anymore, I literate, but I came away with a lot of life lessons. One thing I used to cling to is the mantra of not everyone will like your work, and that's ok. It's actually NOT okay, especially in literature which often involves a myriad of factors INCLUDING personal biases (these exist in art too it's just harder to pin point). We can go into the nuts & bolts but I think you know what I'm talkin' about. It is okay if a reader just doesn't care for your brand of soft sci-fi. It is NOT okay if said reader goes on a rant about being forced to read female protagonists. That, shipmates, is knowing the difference. Most of the time it's innate. Most of the time it's clear. Likewise, you probably know when you're being self-critical versus beating yourself up. With that, I want to do another story comparison with y'all over something I've worked on for a relatively long time. How long did the draft mutate? The last time I touched the document was 2013. And THAT was an extensive rewrite. The story itself is from about 2011. Depending on your point of view and background that is either not too bad or it's ridiculous. For one thing it's six pages long. That's it. But on the other hand I've re-written it a good three times. I don't have the other rewrites I don't think but I have two, one being the final product. Why did I stop? Because I had to walk away from it. This story is part of a bigger, more ambitious short story collection project that I've been trying to get together for a while but I had to drop the whole thing because, frankly, it was driving me a little silly. I let it go...for...four years. So, here's how it started: The last time I saw Tommy, he picked me up out of the rain. Mind you, I wasn't in the rain by choice. I walk to work, and I was expecting a beautiful day at work despite a twenty percent chance of rain. Little did I know, twenty percent is as good as a hundred in this place, and not an hour later I was ten pounds heavier and sloshing unsteadily on my rubber sandals. Lucky me, my apartment isn't too far from my job. A co-worker offered me a ride, but I turned her down because I hate her. So I'd made my bed thoroughly and grumbled darkly to myself all the way home. The street wasn't very populated thanks to the weather, but a few cars whizz'd by me. One in particular -- a purple, throwback Dodge Viper with some custom stripes -- caught my attention. It looked so familiar, and not just because it was a popular car at one time of another. I thought back to high school and college, and remembered that Tommy had a Viper. With white stripes, to be precise. It was especially notable because he bought it new. "Tommy", I muttered to myself. "Haven't said that name in a while." Tommy was "that friend". The "Whatever happened to...?" and "Really!" one. The one we talk about with hands over our mouths. Tommy was well on his way to being the next big thing. He was the high school valedictorian, top of his graduating class at a certain prestigious private university. He worked for a car company -- not working the desk or any shit like that. He was a designer, an inventor. The man with the plan, always. I re-read that & I think "yeah, whatever me". Here's what it became: Some of y'all have asked where I've been and what's up with commissions lately. I'm writing this note to come clean; I'm not asking you to believe me but please try to understand. I'm back trying to work again, but I'll be awhile assuming I don't die in the meantime. In my last note, I believe I mentioned meeting up with an old friend. Let me start from the beginning. His name is Tommy. The last time I saw Tommy was actually the first time I'd seen him in years. He picked me up out of the rain. Mind you, I wasn't in the rain by choice. I walk to work, and I was expecting a beautiful day at work despite a twenty percent chance of rain. Little did I know, twenty percent is as good as a hundred in this place, and not an hour later I was ten pounds heavier and sloshing unsteadily on my rubber sandals. Lucky me, my apartment isn't too far from my job. A co-worker offered me a ride, but I turned her down because I hate her. So I'd made my bed thoroughly and grumbled darkly to myself all the way home. The street wasn't very populated thanks to the weather, but a few cars whizz'd by me. One in particular--a purple, throwback Dodge Viper with some custom stripes--caught my attention. It looked so familiar, and not just because it was a popular car at one time or another. I thought back to high school and college, and remembered that Tommy had a Viper. "Tommy," I muttered to myself. "Haven't said that name in a while." A Viper with white stripes and a horse logo, to be precise. Never was sure what the horse thing was about. Boom. Again, for better or for worse I prefer the second. Now, let me mention here that this wasn't always a poorly-formatted draft chilling in my storage. Oh no, at one time I was shopping this bad boy around because I was finished and primed and ready. Sadly, I can't remember the 'zine that actually gave me some really good feedback but the editor told me the story was cool but things happened too fast in it. At first I was a bit embarrassed then...I re-read and thought, damn he's right. This is STILL a draft despite all my crossed Ts and dotted Is. So I did a complete merger of old and new, gave it some actual context that makes some damn sense. Like majolica. One more example: "Josh? That you?" the man said. I was equally shocked. "Tommy?" I expected something ghastly, some cartoonish distortion of the man who was once my friend, but no. He looked mostly the same. His hair still dropped straight to his shoulders. His hazel eyes looked watery and jaundiced. He was apparently trying to grow a beard out or had just cut one. He was a little bloated and paler than I remembered. I thought about all this, too, as he smiled at me. He opened the passenger side door for me, and I slopped in. He was still smiling as he pulled off . "Fancy meeting you here", he said. "I'm heading back from lunch, but I got a little time. Why're you walking in the rain, buddy?" I tried to radiate an easy-going confidence I didn't have, shifting uneasily in my seat and pretending it was the wetness. "Forgot my umbrella", I said. "I live a block down." "No problem. Hey, long time no see. I know we can't catch up much in the car, but give me the short version, right?" "Still doing cartooning, single, no cats yet, do commissions on the side so I can eat. Umm, that's about it. You?" Admit it, that section is really fast and loose. What a creeper! While re-writing, I decided that for the nature of the story (he's got something spooky going on if you can't tell) Tommy needed to be a little more evangelical and thus kind: "Josh? That you?"the man said. I was equally shocked. "Tommy?" I expected something ghastly, some cartoonish distortion of the man who was once my friend, but no. He looked mostly the same. His hair still dropped straight to his shoulders. His hazel eyes looked watery and jaundiced. He was apparently trying to grow a beard out or had just cut one. He was a little bloated and paler than I remembered. I thought about all this, too, as he smiled at me. He opened the passenger side door for me, and I slopped in. He was still smiling as he pulled off. "Fancy meeting you here," he said. "I'm heading back from lunch, but I got a little time. Why're you walking in the rain, buddy? I tried to radiate an easy-going confidence I didn't have, shifting uneasily in my seat and pretending it was the wetness. "Forgot my umbrella," he said. "I live a block down." Armdrags to riches everyone!
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Ia! If you've come this far, you're either looking for weird or you know you've found it... TRESPASSING
September 2018
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