Literature
ebulliencechick's picture

I don't really have anything to bitch about right now. I'm drinking pink champagne from the bottle. I'm numb. I bitch in my blogs at MySpace and in my poems. I've published a bunch of novels and collections of poetry at lulu.com. My latest collection of poetry is This Brutal Fucking Life. I don't believe in ratings but I had to give This Brutal Fucking Life, Pussy Lickin' Good and Bat Shit Crazy a mature rating because my shitcaked asshole of an ex-husband reported my "inappropriate content" to lulu. I can't risk having my projects unceremoniously deleted so I gave a "mature" rating to my most "controversial/inappropriate" books.


blue_eyed_deviant's picture

How on earth can bestselling authors publish books with tons of typos??? This drives me crazy. I can understand finding typos in those cheap novels you find at the dollar store, but I spot GLARING typos in every single book I read. I'm not a damn professional editor, nor am I an English major. Just a voracious reader that can spot typos a mile away.

Look writers - if your high-paid editors and the millions of people that handle your book before publication can't eliminate these simple errors for you, I'd be happy to do it. But please, SOMEONE read the damn book before you print it!!!!


twoinawindow's picture

Some people I respect really like Ann Lamott as a writer and I read one of her books a long time ago but it made no impression. I got Bird By Bird recently and am still reading it. I have to say I'm unimpressed. Steven King's book on writing is much better. There's just something about Lamott's style that really irritates me. Consistent use of cliche phrases and unoriginality. So, my mother finished reading Rosie while we were in Greece (she reads really fast) and gave it to me. I just finished it and found it to be horrible, though I did finish it. Treacly, cutesy prose, badly drawn characters who never become more than caricatures. Unlikely outcomes, bad dialogue. All of the characters are unlikeable, even the little girl (Rosie). I am disappointed. I'm missing what's so great about her, because she's not a very good writer. Now if you want to read a truly good writer...


Bryan Alaspa's picture

"All I wanted was to sing to God. He gave me that longing... and then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to praise him with music, why implant the desire? Like a lust in my body! And then deny me the talent?"
--Salieri (F. Murray Abraham) “Amadeus”

I had to take a break from working on promoting my book. It’s amazing. I have been working so hard on nothing else for days. This is more work than I usually put into most things and I am just hoping that maybe it will pay off at some point.

I know I have written about this particular friend before. In fact, I wrote about her just the other day and you can page down and find where I did so. I have written about her so much that I think my friend Scott is likely to think I have a crush on his wife. The fact is, however, that I was just thinking about her today and having my “Salieri” moment a couple of days ago.


Bryan Alaspa's picture

It’s been an interesting experience so far, I will give it that much. I am talking about, what else, the release of my third novel just this past week. It has taken up much of my time, and so far the pay off has been not nearly as dramatic as I would like to have believed. What it has shown me is that everyone has an opinion. My inbox has been filled with people who all think they know better how I should do things. One thing about opinions has certainly been proved correct with this experience and that is that, like butt-holes, everyone has one and usually they stink.

It turns out the world is heavily populated with “Comic Book Guys” from the television shows “The Simpsons.” Guys and gals who like to sit around and criticize the way everyone else does something because they somehow believe they know better. Why do they know better? Well, they have a newsletter or own a bookstore.


Poetaster's picture

If I hear one more lost pussy poem I swear I’m going to throw myself to floor and induce vomiting convulsions. We’ve all been there, at open mikes the world over. What starts as a mildly pleasant little reading gets “shaken up” (ooh, aah) by the radical, the terrifyingly original, (drum roll please...) lost pussy poet.

The story is so tired. Boy meets girl. Boy fucks girl. Boy fucks up. Boy looses girl. But then comes the torturous twist. If boy fancies himself a rather clever poet, he writes about it, then subjects the rest of us to his wit. Please! We are not shocked. We do not take it as a warning (“Hell hath no fury like... a jilted little dick”). And we are definitely not amused. Pick a different subject, one with – let’s say – a little more meat.


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