I'm sure one day I'll be invited to teach the savage youth of this world, but until then, here:
Tag: prose
Writing by dead writers, David Foster Wallace
The Earth Moves You (draft page)
Now, being the writer-man as the night pulses and friends light off fireworks into the last great summer day that you can remember. “And Henry, you tubed today” she said , and yeah I did tube, I’m a tuber. Now you’re you, a writer tuba diver drinker writer man, and you know why, because you… Continue reading The Earth Moves You (draft page)
A Summer Travelin’ Book, Vol. 2, Sample Pages
A Summer Travelin' Book, Vol. 2, Sample Pages.
Bullets (and then, bed…)
Always start a new part of your life with an old song that just darts through your head for no reason at all, and in that, you'll make a new reason. Uh? Turning a novel into a novella is as difficult as it is explaining what the difference between the two are, and both are fucking ridiculous social divisions that make me want… Continue reading Bullets (and then, bed…)
Adventures In American Writing 