Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Sorry for the Inconvenience

We know that several visitors have noticed that the website has not gone live yet.  In the process of trying to build something more interesting than a mere content provider or yet another mindless "blog", we have encountered some unforeseen hurdles.  We will try and post new articles as soon as possible, as well as establish a publishing schedule, but in the meantime and while we work on resolving the issues behind the scenes, please enjoy the following series of essays.  Thank you for your understanding!

“On Writing: Part One”

                Almost every book on writing that you’ll find contains, somewhere inside, a bulleted list of
unassailable rules or tricks or recipes for cooking up that guaranteed bestseller.  When I find those lists in a
book I tend to tear them out.

                I would explain why, but that would be telling, and apparently if you tell someone something it
takes all the fun away, like pulling the power cord from the iPod cradle at a frat party.  Except, wait, that
doesn’t take the fun away at all.  There will still be half-naked girls and guys standing next to the hot tub,
silently debating whether or not they look good enough all-the-way-naked to jump in.  Some guy will be
quoting Fight Club or Animal House, even though he hasn’t actually seen either of those movies.  At least
one girl is not going to stop complaining about her boyfriend just loud enough to give someone an idea and
quiet enough to be able to turn them down if she decides not to go through with it.  Some of the older
brothers will be playing beer pong or flippy cup, as if it were the one thing they were put on this earth to do.
And at least one person is going to feel the effects of a rohypnol hangover.
                The most amusing thing about it all?  I didn’t show you anything there, I told you every damn thing
I bothered thinking of, and I all but guarantee you can smell stale cigarettes and nervous sweat, and you can
feel the old floorboards creak beneath your feet and you were there.
                No one knows the secret to a good story.  A book isn’t a casserole; never has been and never will
be.  Post-modern novel generators aside, getting published isn’t about having the best tale, or even the most
marketable, or even sleeping with the right person.  Like almost everything else in our lives it’s almost pure
random luck.  

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