Post by rorschalk on May 1, 2023 18:52:12 GMT
Dear Mr. VC,
The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, or in this case, the capital is lacking. Here's Rox' disquisition about why this is so. Thanks for subbing for such insufferable abuse as is doled out at this here disestablishmentarian institution.
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Post by rockefeller on 5 hours ago
Even though I don't sub anymore, I'm still on the mailing lists of a few zines I used to bounce my genius off of. So every once in a while Electric Lit hits me with a poem or short that more or less holds my interest to the end (like this one: electricliterature.com/aita-for-repairing-my-neighbors-house-by-marian-crotty/) and I have to ask myself why. It's never about great erudition, a rich vocabulary, technical perfection or beautiful description. In Crotty's story above, the voice is simple, honest, so sincere that I suspect the narrator is unreliable. The conflict and narrative promise are all laid out in the first sentence. I want to know more. Turns out it's an exquisitely painful look at failed relationships, at unrequited romantic love. Not at all analytical or philosophical or even particularly intelligent, but just as seen through the eyes of one pathetically smitten and naive man.
Contrast this now with the previously referenced caps awaiting judgment here. Evans's My Friend Charlie's voice is similar: simple, honest and straightforward, employs credible specifics. But by the 3rd page, there's no inkling of a "story." I suppose wondering what (and why) it's about could serve as a kind of hook... but for me, not enough, or maybe too much, of a promise. Also, I've never been a fan of verbatim dialog, especially in 1st person POVs, which starts to increase. Also the format's a little wonky. So it's out The Porthole, into The Deluge, and on to the next. Someday I might finish it just to see if I was wrong, and think, Oh crap! It's great. Totally worth the extended throat clear. At which time I'll feel like even more of an asshole and wish it'd hit the ground running.
The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, or in this case, the capital is lacking. Here's Rox' disquisition about why this is so. Thanks for subbing for such insufferable abuse as is doled out at this here disestablishmentarian institution.
Post to everything
*****
rockefeller Avatar
Posts: 240
5 hours ago QuoteEditlikePost Options
Post by rockefeller on 5 hours ago
Even though I don't sub anymore, I'm still on the mailing lists of a few zines I used to bounce my genius off of. So every once in a while Electric Lit hits me with a poem or short that more or less holds my interest to the end (like this one: electricliterature.com/aita-for-repairing-my-neighbors-house-by-marian-crotty/) and I have to ask myself why. It's never about great erudition, a rich vocabulary, technical perfection or beautiful description. In Crotty's story above, the voice is simple, honest, so sincere that I suspect the narrator is unreliable. The conflict and narrative promise are all laid out in the first sentence. I want to know more. Turns out it's an exquisitely painful look at failed relationships, at unrequited romantic love. Not at all analytical or philosophical or even particularly intelligent, but just as seen through the eyes of one pathetically smitten and naive man.
Contrast this now with the previously referenced caps awaiting judgment here. Evans's My Friend Charlie's voice is similar: simple, honest and straightforward, employs credible specifics. But by the 3rd page, there's no inkling of a "story." I suppose wondering what (and why) it's about could serve as a kind of hook... but for me, not enough, or maybe too much, of a promise. Also, I've never been a fan of verbatim dialog, especially in 1st person POVs, which starts to increase. Also the format's a little wonky. So it's out The Porthole, into The Deluge, and on to the next. Someday I might finish it just to see if I was wrong, and think, Oh crap! It's great. Totally worth the extended throat clear. At which time I'll feel like even more of an asshole and wish it'd hit the ground running.