(Actually, it’s more like a pitch for my dark comedy — FREE on Kindle, 5/14.)
The clock is ticking away, so we’ll T.C.B. real quick. Then I’ll get to my meditative thoughts.
Okay, on to sharing my meditations.
Do you want to go through a bizarre experience?
Write a book about the downward spiral of the American white male, the natural progression of a demographic in our country which possessed too much privilege for too long.
Your addition to the crazy-man-in-modern-society genre, based on your experiences from the years 2000 to 2010.
In this story, juxtapose the world events that created true fear with the fear tactics that kept people head-down in their cubicles while the rich became super-rich.
If you yourself are a white male, look at yourself and how you’ve benefited from white male affirmative action. Don’t look away, either.
That Norman Rockwell painting of the All-American Kid — write a book about the fascist, racist, sexist, classist, homophobic, xenophobic, Earth-hating, Universe-hating, self-hating undertones beneath that image. While that painting is far from 100% negative, focus the plot of a dark comedy around its ugliness.
Say to yourself that the world has enough stories about the goodness of white male running America. You want to pen a story about the ‘stains of the group.
They’re cooking the Earth and caused the Recession, only to then get richer in the aftermath. Their reaction to the election of the 44th President of the United States has been shocking, to say the least. The lack of respect they show towards our men and women in uniform is morally disgusting, also terrifying. So think about why those men scare the living daylights out of you and self-publish a dark comedy about your insights.
This scariness. Focus this scariness. Don’t just think about personal experiences, step out of yourself and think about the point of view of a citizen of Planet Earth (as far as you can, anyway. F it. It’s fiction, as in not non-fiction.)
Do all this. Write a story. Shit your pants a few thousand times. Walk away from the story, then come back to it, then walk away again.
Walk around your neighborhood all night at least a few times once you get the story to where you need it to be — and you realize what your story is saying about The Man.
Have friends and family read earlier drafts and say, “Yeah, you have a point, I won’t argue it, but WHOA.”
Take their kind, patient, and caring thoughts into consideration.
As you revise, respect every word of the honest conversations they have with you. Every word. Analyze, over-analyze, then analyze their thoughts again.
Do all that. Then hire a great editor, who gives you so much to think about that you rewrite a section of the story. Eventually, self-publish the story because, if your experience is like mine, movements like Occupy Wall Street will start to take form as the book gets closer to completion. Which tells you that others see this, too. Cross your fingers. Hope that some like-minded souls will take a liking to your thoughts.
Know what happens next?
Dudebro is what happens.
Dudebros of all ages, political affiliations and income levels attempt to dudebro your book. In this dudebro way, it’s so dudebro.
It is all so weird because you wrote a book about dudebros.
To put it another way, you wrote a book about privilege, not for privilege. The subject matter automatically assumes it’s the target audience.
You don’t want their money, you could care less about their opinion, but dudebros just want to dudebro your book just like they dudebro everything else in the world and it’s time to dudebro, bro. They have no intention of buying it, they just want to dudebro it.
The cool thing is, you don’t get mad. Your frame of mind is more like if the asteroid hits the Earth and takes humanity out, you’ll understand why.
You don’t wish actual violence upon the dudebros for trying to dudebro your book. It’s what dudebros do. When dudebros do acoustic remakes of rap songs and post them on YouTube, well, it’s a dudebro thing.
Dudebros turn rainforests into coal mines, and rap songs into acoustic ones.
You will learn to market your book to people who are sick of dudebros. Fortunately, there are a lot of those folks. Some of them become new friends, too. Nothing wrong with making a new friend.
Also: dudebros don’t read books. But the important insight you discover is this: they also don’t like other people reading books. You didn’t know this fact before you self-published your story. But you know it now.
(Some dudebros, to be fair, read books. They learn what the five “best” books are, then they grit through those pages. Afterward, their goal is to steer every conversation to one of those books to then out-dudebro everyone else about those books.)
You become even happier you wrote a book because you have been attacked by this dudebro book-hating energy and you see it for what it is.
Okay, switching tenses here… I’m getting tired of it, too…
I’m not attacking people. Privilege is a mindset, not a necessary element for survival. I’m not attacking one’s right to breathe, just their right to oppress.
I disliked dudebros before I wrote a book. But I thank the dudebro because once I learned how much they hate reading, I kept writing.
So that’s my story, about my story — FREE on Kindle.
<<Cheesy pitch-man announcer-voice closes this out>>
Then some Y2K-infected barbarian sex cannibals fly in, riding on the backs of a phalanx of fire-breathing flying brontosauruses. They swoop down from the sky and fry the whole radio studio with the dinosaurs’ breath.
(It’s a Fearkiller thing.)