Satire, writing, creativity
One Male’s Experience with Pain, Loneliness, and Rejection
It’s just Medium, no one reads my stuff anyway. Well, that’s not true.
Last week, I received a private message from ‘nameless’ who thought me dumb enough to believe that I could earn thousands of dollars a year on Medium if I followed three simple rules.
After using the delete key, another private message arrived, again from nameless — this time asking if I did not believe him. Yes, nameless is a He. But this time, adding, as if to prove his point, that my writing, Quote: ‘lacks structure and cohesiveness,’ End quote. In his message, other criticisms are ‘Rambling’ and ‘You don’t stick to the point, in fact, you never actually make a point.’
Nameless knows his stuff.
Not having a point was precisely my point. If nameless had looked beyond his narrow little existence, he’d know there is no point to life. Life is pointless. Life is rambling. Life is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Wow…that’s good, that’s very good. I’d better write that down before I forget it.
(Takes out a paper and pencil, speaking as he writes.)
Life… is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get.
Puts away the paper and pencil.
Where was I? Okay, yes. I was writing about the male experience….despite the nameless’ philistine approach to good writing; I decided to press on.
I began by letting my subconscious flow unhindered of thought. Then, I asked myself, what’s the first thing I think about when I consider the male experience?
Women…Women…Women… I let the word roll around on my tongue, savoring the sweet, succulent taste that quickly turns bitter and astringent. Women, I mutter, why women? Women…Pain…. Loneliness…Women and pain and loneliness. Loneliness, pain, and women…Pain, loneliness, women…rejection. Loneliness, pain, women, rejection…writing. Pain, women, loneliness, rejection, writing….
Sixty seconds later, I had my title… One Male’s Experience with Pain, Loneliness, and Rejection…by who? I cannot use my real name. They’ll recognize it.
My writing should be seasoned with irony, salty, and peppered with innuendo. I need a nom de plume. I played around with various versions of great literary names. Eventually, I dropped the whole idea and settled on an obscure Greek name. One I came across in Bartlett’s Quotations. I decided to call myself… Anonymous. That’s a guy who cannot take me to court. He’s dead and dead men don’t sue.
Write that down: Dead Men Don’t Sue.
By now, you’ll all understand I’m on a roll. So I pour myself a double Macallan and push on. I needed structure, conflict, and fewer lines of dialogue.
I drain my glass and continue writing. The way I see it, the hero will be male; maybe that’s not enough. What kind of male? I must consider the LGBT movement. Wait, is it October? Yes, okay, LGBTQ. An experienced male…no… a pained, lonely, and rejected male. I’m now charging at my writing as a man possessed.
What is my hero’s name? It has to be correct…a name says a lot about a character… paints a picture of him… a picture of pain, loneliness, and rejection. Gene. Eugene. Greg. Neil. Benji. Floyd. Then it hit me right between the eyes like a brick thrown from close range.
I whispered it as I was writing, in case anyone was eavesdropping. Fonty, if that name doesn’t conjure up pain, loneliness, and rejection, what name does?
I need to establish some mystery. Who is this guy? Why doesn’t he have a name like Fonty? Who would do that to a child? No wonder he looks so pained, lonely, and rejected.
What is his mystery? It has to be a thing taking on a life of its own. It can’t be arbitrary. Whoever said ‘writing was hard’ must have been wrestling with such dilemmas. I decide not to let essential questions bog me down. I can always revisit. Besides, the dialogue will probably tell me about his pain, loneliness, and rejection. I mean, he’s a member of the LGBTQ.
What if he says nothing? Is he honestly willing to speak about loneliness, pain, and rejection? Why tell the audience about pain, loneliness, and rejection? The reader mustn’t be told; the reader must feel. Make them feel what it’s like to be rejected over and over and over and over and over….
(The writer pulls himself together)
Well, isn’t that what a story is supposed to be about? A shared experience.
Nothing personal, you understand…pain, loneliness, and rejection.
That’s just how we writers talk.
