A 25-year-old friend--student, cartoonist, gym rat--told me he'd read my story that came out in Neon Beam in March. You should think about adding some humor to your writing, he said. You know, funny sells.
I'd thought there were a lot of funny things in the story. Well gee thanks, I said, insincerely.
He went on, It's like when my friends text me, if they say Hey what are you up to, I probably won't text back. But if they say, Hey hooker, why don't you roll outta the bed and come rob a bank with us, I'll text 'em back, because they were funny.
I'm thinking about what he said. Maybe my funny is too subtle. Maybe my funny just isn't all that funny. A writer friend said she thought I had a trenchant sense of humor. Compliment? I dunno. In any case, it all feels a little like that Simpson's episode where Homer berates the television: stupid TV, be more funny.
There's a shadow constantly hovering at my shoulder. For all my gallivanting into the social whirl, nevermind the positive social media...
Ever wondered what it takes to get a piece of fiction published? I'm not talking New Yorker type of prose. That's a rarefied world ...
Check out my new video, a brief reading from a story published this past spring in Opossum.
Welp, after a half-year experiment in social media, BSP has returned to its blogger roots. I hated Faceborkland, tbh. Sure, it was easier t...