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Literary Endeavors

A Million Little Pieces of Crap

Right back atcha, pal.

I’ve been writing fiction for a really long time, though not without hiatus. I occasionally go through crises of faith with it, because both market-wise and creatively, this is probably one of the worst periods for fiction in America, possibly ever. After The Baby was born, I found my worldview and my time so altered that I felt I couldn’t write it any more. I didn’t see things the way I used to, and I also lacked the acres of time needed to get into a fiction “groove”.

That’s the biggest reason why I channeled my literary ambitions into this blog, because it satisfied my desire to write and didn’t require me to lock myself in a soundproof vault for 12 hours. For a long time, fiction was such a slog for me and with so few avenues for exposure, I simply had no desire to write it any more. It was quicker and much more enjoyable to write funny ha-ha’s here.

Lately, for reasons too varied and arcane to get into here, I’ve decided to dive back into fiction. I’m working on a novel I’d all but abandoned a few years ago when it hit the 100 page mark, because I think the idea behind it is still relevant. I’m trying to power through an admittedly sub-par first draft so I can revise it and hopefully finish it some time early next year. I’ve been feeling really good about it. I’ve received lots of encouragement. I can actually see the light at the end of the tunnel.

And then I read this and felt like throwing the whole thing in the garbage. Because when the fiction world can still stomach a vile specimen like James Frey, do I really want to associate myself with it?

For those of you don’t want to read the whole article or don’t enjoy vomiting, I’ll give you the gist of it. It’s a piece in New York magazine by Suzanne Mozes about Frey, who you may remember from such frauds as A Million Little Pieces (the “memoir” that turned out to be largely made up). What’s he been up to, other than not acquiring any sense of shame? He’s established a company called Full Fathom Five.

The firm specializes in YA fiction series, on the principle that if you sit a thousand struggling, desperate writers in front of a thousand typewriters, eventually one of them will write the next Harry Potter. It is the fiction equivalent of a veal pen, and is as much of a shell game as anything Bernie Madoff ever cooked up.
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Politics Schmolitics

Tim Profitt: Someone Should Put a Stop to Me!

timprofitt.jpgI apologize for stepping on a MoveOn.og volunteer’s head at the recent Senate debate in Kentucky. I stepped over the line, repeatedly, and also thought that line was printed on a woman’s face. I would like to add, though, that as a Rand Paul supporter, I am a firm believer in the free market, and sometimes the free market wants things we might not like–for instance, caving in your skull with a boot.

Most importantly, I think the police should have done a better job of controlling the crowd. I really whipped the crowd into a blood-thirsty frenzy with my love of Rand Paul and hatred of our so-called president. The people outside the debate were ready to do anything, and I mean anything. You should have seen the look in my eyes–it was almost demonic! Somebody really should have stopped a maniac like me!

It’s the police department’s job to contain dangerous, unhinged people like myself, and I think they really dropped the ball on this one. I could have killed someone! I’m calling for an investigation into their negligence, and their inability to recognize the fact that I clearly should be placed behind bars, if not some sort of institution.

I also think the Rand Paul campaign has to take some of the blame here. Clearly I’m not the sort of person a political campaign should have as a representative. How could they not tell I’m a danger to myself and others, simply by looking into my dead-eyed stare and twitching beetle brow? I almost appear as if I haven’t fully evolved, really. Paul really should have thought more carefully before associating with lowlifes such as myself. If anything, he should have alerted local authorities to my presence, so that I could be caged and studied.

And don’t think this MoveOn.org person is blameless, either. Obviously, I am a sick, dangerous person, and getting anywhere near me is like jumping into a lion’s den of Crazy. My disturbed, rage-addled brain can’t distinguish between genuine threats and ordinary visual stimuli. Anything that enters my field of vision is a potential target for my unfocused, ape-like fury. Frankly, I think she should apologize for placing not just herself in harms way, but anyone else in her vicinity, who might have become collateral damage from my bull-in-a-china-shop impulses.

The fact that I am allowed to roam the streets freely just sickens me. That’s why we need to elect responsible lawmakers like Rand Paul, who will keep our towns safe for guys like me from guys like me.

Basketball

What Should LeBron Do?

What should I do?

Should I tell you I made mistakes? Or should I just imply it was my teammates’ fault? That always worked before.

Should I paraphrase Maya Angelou and implicitly compare her narrative of black struggle in America to me getting a shit-ton of money to play in Miami? Classy, huh?

Should I go to Chris Bosh’s housewarming party? He just had a thing at his place last week and I brought a nice bottle of wine. That should be enough, right?

Should I just sell shoes? Because that’s basically what I’ve been doing so far and it’s worked out pretty good.

Should I be who you want me to be? Because I don’t change myself for nobody. Except Dwayne Wade.

Should I get Thai for lunch? I just had it yesterday but I’m still feelin it, you know?

Should I stop listening to my friends? C’mon, they’re my friends. If your friends asked you to stop listening to your friends, would you do it? I would. That’s the kind of friend I am.

Should I go on this whitewater rafting trip with Delonte West? I think it’s gonna be really awkward.

Should I be the villain? If so, I want a really big office with a shark tank. A villain ain’t nothin without a shark tank.

Should I really do this Miami Vice segment with Don Johnson, even though I was like negative-three when that show was canceled?

Should I carry Dwayne Wade’s bags into the locker room? And should I let him make me wear a bellhop cap when I do it?

Should I destroy a pristine professional-level basketball court with a bulldozer? Is that a big enough let-them-eat-cake moment? What if I burn a gold-covered Dead Sea Scroll?

Should I be who you want me to be? Because if it’ll get me 5 extra bucks, I will totally do it.