According to Reacher - Details Matter. Missing them can get people killed.
My stories are not for everyone. The context, the genre, the set up and even how I write. My stories appeal to a particular niche of dirty perverts that I genuinely appreciate.
I often say, "Am I the best writer?"
To which I answer NO!
Then I say, "But I am trying to be?"
Also, I answer "No!"
I will never have mainstream appeal. I do not try for that. It's not my target. To do that, I'd have to change what and how I write and write for someone other than me.
I write the stories I would want to read, how I would want to write them.
I've always had the goal that if I could inspire someone with my stories to write stories like mine, I'd win because I could have more to read.
I also believe that I should read as much as I write. This allows me to stay sharp as an author. I don't steal ideas, but I learn storytelling techniques through examples.
I try to polish my writing and make it pop with "Word pictures"
I don't get into "Decorative" writing, like AI slop or Danielle Steele. You know, "The wind picked up, and on the horizon, the dawn gently fell on my asshole." or whatever, I can't even write a serious example of it, but if you see it, you'll know it.
I write more JD Salinger Catcher in the Rye stream of consciousness. My technique could quite easily be called "Bullshitting".
You know when you are bullshitting with your old pal over a beer and telling them a story?
When I was a kid, my best friend and I managed to meet two hot girls roaming around on new years eve. We convinced them to come back to my old buddy's house and play strip blackjack, and drink some beers we had.
JACKPOT, right?
Not really, you see, we lost immediately and then didn't pay up. That wasn't how the story was supposed to go. It was supposed to end with bare titties and a blowjob at Midnight as our balls dropped, because that would be a clever turn of phrase and I like blowjobs and titties. I can still remember those girls, that night, and all the details. We kept walking up to the Little General (It was like a Circle K convenience store but cooler). You could buy cigarettes then without ID, pretty much. I got some Redman chewing tobacco because I didn't want to smoke, but I wanted to seem cool, and my grandfather chewed it.
Fuck, it's nasty as shit, and we got lightheaded from it and sick to our stomachs. I still remember the weight of the boom box I carried on my shoulder like a white boy imbecile, listening to Van Halen's "Maaarrrge your braking my hearttttt, you better starttttt...." and Bottoms up, Come on baby, Bottoms Up! I am singing, I am dancing!"
What a dipshit, I probably was. I remember those big ass D-batteries and how long they lasted. Rechargable? What the fuck for? These D batteries have been in this boom box since 1982.
Right? And if you ever did something like that, you remember it.
Now that I am old, all I have are thousands of memories about tipping a bottle of vodka straight up and chugging it like water until Bobby Glenn punched me in the stomach and then I puked everywhere in my best friends house - causing everyone to leave and throw me the fuck out of the party too. I still remember taking all my god-damned clothes off for no apparent reason and running my dumb ass through the golf course sprinklers. I still remember seling my best friend shake weed because he didn't know how much it cost, and wondering when he'd figure out it was mostly Oregano?
I can take a thousand strippers I worked with as a DJ, and a thousand flea markets and a thousand drunken adventures and all the crazy shit and merge those into authentic people that I want to write about. I can live through their eyes. I can go back in time and write how maybe it didn't go quite as pathetic as I remember it for my surrogate alter-ego in the story, and tell a story that will transport you with me to 1987, when Dinker and her friend were secretly little whores in those tight French cut one pieces down at the beach, and we dared them to streak around the downtown.
Bullshitting - is the method where I pretend that you are my old buddy. I am sitting across from you with a good beer and I begin "No shit, so there we were..." and I tell you what we did, and how we did it in a 1st person style that includes details, and introspection.
"I thought I'd see titties and pussy, but when she took off her clothes, I saw a dick bigger than mine!"
Right? That's fun, and all those little details about what song was playing when I did, and Wendy's salad bar having Pasta back then, and the size of that prick, and how it curved to the right - they aren't essential to the story.
If you are speed jerking, you don't need or want details. If you have a little attention span the size of my cock, then you don't want to be bothered.
When I tell a story though, In order to go back into that world, I have to see the sights and hear the words. I have to hear that music in the background, smell the elephant ears and beer on the midway, the sound of people laughing and the carnival barker telling me that he'll give me three for five dollars, and "Hey, hey, wait a minute, tell you what..for you, I'll do four for five dollars, look I'll make it easy. I want to give it away, man. I don't want to take these stuffed animals back with me. Come on, just play twice and if you still lose, I'll give you a prize, come on."
Does that have anything to do with the story?
Not the plot.
It has to do with the immersion.
A dear friend of mine helps me edit. I've seen him write well, but usually he writes dialogue like this;
"Hello."
"Yes."
"I am Leo."
"I am Mary."
"I adore you, Mary."
"Let's fuck."
"Okay."
Then we fucked for hours, and when we stopped, we laughed for a while.
"Hey, do you want to fuck again?"
"Yes, I do."
"I as well."
and I have tried my motherfucking hardest to help him the way he helps me by finding mistakes or making suggestions. He will pedantically tell me things like "Church mice aren't actually quiet" when I use a figure of speech, or that "Be back in a minute" he'll ask if it was really a minute. I once told him that they opened the porch screen door.
"Technically, you don't open it, you have to pull it in..." he said.
It's a DETAIL, right? So you would think he's detail-oriented. I spent an hour debating with him and showing him how that in some porch screen doors open out, others open in.
When it comes to writing though, he is in it for speed. He wants the facts, nothign more - no sweetners.
I once read a story about a director asking a screen writer about a scene he wrote. It was just dialogue like above.
"What are they doing?" The director asks.
"Having a dialogue," the writer responds
"Okay, but what are they DOING?"
and what he meant was while that's happening - are they moving around? how are they talking? is something happening? is anyone else there?
In my friend's story, that shit is for the reader to imagine and guess. I tell him it's like a crossword puzzle to me because after 20-30 of those short little dialogues with no attribution, I can't tell you who is talking anymore, I've lost the count.
More so, I've been denied the stuff I READ stories for as well. 80% of all communication is non-verbal. How was it said changes so much. There are people I've known who can arch an eyebrow and say more than I can say in four paragraphs of talking.
The actor who played the coach on the TV show Friday Night Lights (brilliant show, if you haven't seen it) Kyle Chandler plays the coach. He nails the coach's ability to do that with his expressions. That show took risks by letting the actors do their own dialogue and not use a script like Gilmore Girls that prides itself on its pithy phrasing and unnatural conversations (apparently).
A great example for me from that show is at one point the Coach and his wife are walking into a daycare and the wife says "You have to pull up on the little thingy," and shows him how to open the gate. "I..uh know how to open a god-damned gate," he says as he opens it.
FUCK, that moment. That moment right there is my FAVORITE SCENE IN THE WHOLE SERIES.
If I had to pick six seconds that completely encapsulate married life at that age, it's that fucking scene. It was ad-libbed, apparently the actress was giving him direction and being helpful, not intending to make it part of the scene. IF that's to be believed it's even more amazing because that summed it all up for me.
It had ZERO to do with the story overall.
It just made the characters more real. It took me to their world, and it made it feel less like a TV show of shit I will never relate to, and made them real to me. I've seen that scene happen, and I've been in that scene myself.
So when I am bullshitting on my stories, I might take a moment to paint a Bob Ross little tree off to the side, just as background. I want that little moment of how cluttered the house is and how it is lived in, how she smells, and I try to find the balance. I do not rush or hurry.
I'll probably never be appreciated because i wrote how someone in the pasture stepped in dog shit and that made that "Ew, I stepped in dog shit" face, or how the scumbag that ran the Matterhorn ride kept ogling the girls, and trying to keep the ride going after he saw them flash their tits once. "We were on there for an hour!"
"You better show your tits next time!"
There is a concept in story writing called "Chekovs Gun" that states that any detail that does not advance the plot, should be eliminated. I can understand red herrings that piss off readers. The TV show LOST did that by introducing plots or ideas and then just abandoning them. That's not the kind of detail I mean. I just want you to feel that feel inside the strip club with the AC blasting but it still smells like mildew, ass and cleaning supplies and how the day shift stripper looks bored as she bends over and presents her ass, not expecting a tip. I want you to taste that watered down drink, and hear the loud White Zombie warbling out of that speaker even though there aren't but two other motherfuckers in there with you.
When I am bullshitting, I try to show not tell. I try NOT to use the word I am describing in the description. You can't do it always, but giving you the non-verbal about how that stripper keeps looking to the left like she is high, or has a nervuos tic and putting you in that sticky-ass vinyl seat, at that wobbly table with a ashtray that hasn't been cleaned since 1993 is my goal as much as it is to present a plot and write believable characters in interesting situations.
The internet is a very interesting place, though. There are what I call "Arbitarians".
You can say you like Cherries and parfait.
"FUCK CHERRIES, THEY SUCK !!!"
You can say you like this or that, and you'll always find someone who doesn't like it. There are some people that I think are just wired to naturally hate what you like and vise verse.
I listen to a lot of AI music recently. I know - AI sucks. It sure does, and to those that think it's going to hasten the destruction of society, and lead to poverty and misery, I agree - but I will say this, AI sure knows how to jam!
I love sweet soul music, always have - Otis Redding, Sam and Dave, all that stuff.
I love old rock songs, old 80s songs, I've got a ton of eclectic favorites but around 1995 when I stopped working in strip clubs, I stopped following music. It seemed to all turned to Nickelback shit/3 Doors Down, and now if you ask me who is singing, I'd say "Fuck, I dunno, Katy Perry?"
But now, this AI stuff- they combine it. A lot of it is just some asshole with a Suno account who puts the lyrics and types "Hurr, soul music" and blippity-bloppity-bleep, and out comes a piece of shit.
They post that on Youtube and at first when I started searching on it, I would put anything in my playlist and think "Well, it's better then nothing"
Some uninspired Metallica Enter sandman sung by Otis Redding in a soulful way was novel. Nine more get made because these boring numb nuts can't think of anything to do except the same fucking nine songs (Nirvana Come as you are, ONE Nine Inch Nails song, etc)
BUT
https://youtu.be/T-rfu0p3ChY?si=MHzeW2OKPQGsTFbp
Just listen to this motherfucking jammy jam. This is created by Professor Nick Harrison. As far as I know, he's only a professor in kicking ass and taking names, and his license to take names expired, if you know what I mean.
This song is "My chemical romance" The Black Parade. I've heard it done before, but *NEVER* like this. This is not AI slop. This is fucking pure genius.
They say that it takes talent to sing, write music, and play musical instruments, and you won't get any argument from me.
But, the producers and arrangers do not usually do that. They hear the music in a way that elevates it, and that is what the Professor did on this track. You'll hear the scratch in the voice, the emotion. If this WERE a human singer, the producer would have been the one to arrange it - it's a different source, but the same skill required.
It's not just talent to make it. I am sure he didn't just type it into the AI and out this popped. This had to be arranged, and oh my god, I can't stop listening to it.
Now, I'll give you two more, and there is a reason for this. I am not trying to sell you on this music or start a moral debate on the merits of using it on existing songs.. I have an hour and a half commute one way each day. This shit makes me happy and makes me smile and even if its "Stealing from artists"
Not much makes me smile, so I'll fucking take this;
https://youtu.be/mxY9vWTcqW8?si=meGVhnsHcbQHI66_
This is pure fucking juice - out the bottle. I've ALWAYS hated Limp Bizkit. He was a man baby with a red hat, stomping around. The only thing he and I have in common is that I was pure white trash, too, and I love chocolate starfish as much as he did, apparently.
His song Roling is largely unlistenable to me. It's him hurping and durping about how great Limp Bizkit is in the third person. The only Kid Rock/Limp Bizkit macho dickheads running around in hammer pants at the county fair ever did for society would be to drop off the planet as far as I was concerned with his uninspired white boy rap.
But listen to what Happy Dasher does. Shit. The way he says "Tho your hands up" like a real singer might, the way he sings "Back up, Back up" to a different cadence.
https://youtu.be/1axXS_KgU8U?si=U770_Kd1vSPsnwnt
One last one, this is Creep by Radiohead. by my count, there must be at least 17 unspired versions of this song some shithead put on the Internet. This is a Disney version that is truly professional quality and clever as shit.
Here is the thing though, to me - this is the shit.
There are going to be other people on the Internet who think "FUCK THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" and they will say taht some obscure horse-shit version of some song I've never heard arranged without change-ups is great.
So, there are people who like stories without rich, descriptive details. I suppose I could have said that there are people who like rich chocolate cake, and people who just want nutrients to absorb, and said pretty much the same thing. I have seen people gush over my friend's stories, so I know he writes for an audience that likes that.
Recently, he "Edited" my story and he removed my voice and basically made it soul-less.
Here is an excerpt
“Precisely,” Joy’s bubbly laughter didn’t come across cruel or wicked. She was clearly enjoying Mary’s embarrassment.
"Why are you making me... do this?" Mary asked out loud, looking straight ahead, with her fingers interlaced behind her head.
"Because it's fun," Joy said, stepping closer to adjust Mary's posture with a gentle push on her back. "And you're doing great. See how easy it is? Stand up straight, Bubble Guppy."
“If it’s so easy and fun, why don’t you get naked, Joy?” Mary scowled, but didn’t make any attempt to hide her lower body. She still wore a heavy gray sweatshirt with a House Hufflepuff logo on the front from Harry Potter, but nothing else.
dly
Is this the best writing in the world? As I said, no. I wanted you to see the Harry Potter sweater in your mind and know this chick would pick Hufflepuff instead of Gryffindor because she is the kind of chick who isn't a surface Harry Potter fan that went with mainstream. She went with the more thoughtful cutesy house. That's a DETAIL. That means nothing to the story; the sweater never appears again.
He wrote this and told me he was streamlining it;
o, now I have to strip completely naked anytime my brothers tell me to?”
“Precisely,” Joy’s bubbly laughter showed she was clearly enjoying Mary’s embarrassment.
"Why are you making me do this?" Mary asked.
I will never be that guy who likes the latter.
Today, I was supposed to be working on my stories, but instead I spent 3 hours on adding ONE picture of FIVE paintings showing a sequence of events where a woman marries a man, has a gang bang with a bunch of black guys and his best friend on their honeymoon, cheats on him constantly while they they are married, tries to kill or cuckold him (not sure which) and then they celebrate chopping her up in little bits. The story isn't even about that.
It's a painting inside a homemade haunted house intended to be macabre and illustrate their attitudes about women.
I sat there and put little details like I had her butt stuffed and taxidermied into an umbrella holder, and I put little "Well done" and "Rare" toothpicks into her tits, and I made sure the characters were consistent from painting to painting, and I put litle easter eggs in the pictures and call backs.
I did this because to me - that's the only reason to write stories. I want a creative outlet that lets me share my experiences but also live them with you, through the storyteller's eyes.
I almost never get feedback unless it's to tell me what a fuck up I am and drive me from the site. That's usually some entitled dick head karen troll that never contributes to the site and tries to run off authors that write stories they don't like by sending us snotty grams. It's the only power they have in real life, so they are fairly pathetic.
I might get a one sentence "Hey Eddie, when are you going to write the next chapter to your Twatmas story?" or but no intelligent conversation, no opinions, no feedback, no offers to brainstorm.
I've spent the last six months arguing simply that details in stories are actually good, so today I thought I'd just share my opinion. That's the point of a blog, right?
I work 10 hour days mon-fri, I owe more than I'll ever be able to pay back, It feels like I'll never get my masters degree at this rate (And I should be doing homework but naturally I am fucking around on pictures and blogs). I have an hour and a half commute, and a dozen or so stories half way finished that I should finish.
I cannot with the news. I simply cannot. Every day it's like this outrageous parody of reality, where people are laughign and fucking around building golden palaces while air traffic controllers have to work for free and using it like a game, and I just have to fucking go back to 1987 and write about some place, and some situation I'd much rather be in than this shit.
I could be wrong, maybe my writing details are irritating, boring, needless drek. I don't really want someone to send me that validation to piss me off. I am just putting it out there that even if it is - fuck you.
The only path I can be on where I write a story is if it has some details, some buttholes, some embarrassed nude females, some kinky shit. That's it - gotta have it.
But, sometimes you just wanna talk, and when you got nobody to talk with, then you just write a blog.