April 23rd, 2018 - A Flawless Science

Dear TNY,

“A Flawless Science.”  Fuck my face, guys. What an utter piece of shit.  Oh my God, you got an undesirable email? Kevin and Chuck are Republicans?  Donald Fucking Trump won the election? Boo-the-fuck-hoo (note, I'm definitely not a Trump supporter but this story was so shitty that I considered switching sides). I didn’t bother to read most of this story because after the first few pages in which nothing happened, I did some scanning and realized that nothing else happened.  I almost want to go back to your “intention” acceptance manifesto, but it would take me quite a long time to annotate how this story accomplished nothing. Shortlist of non-accomplishments: Shitty to mediocre syntax; mostly summary; agenda story (twofold agenda); no plot; whiny conflict; banal.  I can guarantee that you have received better stories through the slushpile, yet you do not print those. Here’s how that math works, if you're interested:

1.  I have an MFA; this means I have workshopped many other writers’ works.

2.  Those other writers have submitted work to you, TNY.

3.  Those works were better than this trashfest you used to deface innocent paper.

Goddamn it, you fucking pig.  Why are you ruining literature?  You realize the less-experienced reader will believe this is literature just because you printed it, yes?

Here’s a thing that makes me sad:  On Saturday night, I bought a book.  That book was the Pushcart Prize collection, 2018.  I enjoy this annual publication very much because the percentage of good work is high.  Speaking of high, I went on an adventure that evening. This book was in a special pocket in the back of my coat in order to keep it dry.  As the chemicals began to disassemble my brain, I decided walking across town at midnight in the rain was a good idea. Somehow, the book absconded of its own accord.  Or I lost it. It is unknown to me which is the truth. I was going to clean my tub, run a bath, make a tall vodka/cran, and then relish finishing the first story, which I had already started.  This story involved a little boy wandering off in Acapulco and never coming back. It was printed in a sweet little lit mag called One Story, an institution you can learn something from.  What’s that something? How to do your goddamn job.

I say all this as a way to express that I think you are an assfaced trashmonger and that while I am responsible for misplacing what would have been a great read, you are responsible for producing a great read.  AND YOU FUCKING FAILED AND NOW I’M LEFT WITH NOTHING.

Alright, rant over.  And yeah, I’ll buy another book.  No need to suggest it.

Until next time, where you hopefully won’t once again try to fuck me with a flaccid penis,

Nick