February 4th, 2019 - What Can You Do with a General
Dear TNY,
Holy fucking shit, are you serious with this “What Can You Do with a General” shit?
There are two factors in this story that I will call less-than-shit. One, it’s mostly scene. I get to see these people interacting and be a part of the action (note: there is no action but we get the blessing of fucking exposition jammed in here from the MC’s brain which is meaningless, boring, and terrible; all of this helps cement that this story is shit; but the scene is a refreshing change from your normal, beige block summary jam). And the other thing I appreciated was the paragraph in which the MC woke up alone on the couch after the movie was over because everyone left him. That had some feels to it.
But the rest of this story is absolute fucking trash. What happened in this story? I cannot tell what happened that would interest anyone. Let’s talk about “A Good Man is Hard to Find”. Something fucking happens. It’s interesting. And the shit that happens isn’t even what’s interesting; the interesting bits are how the happenings display the human condition. Let’s talk “Hills Like White Elephants”. A conversation happens, which is pretty much nothing from a plot perspective. Much like General. But in Hills, the happenings are off-page. That story is the human condition. Let’s talk “Why Don’t You Dance?” Now, not much happens. Some people dance on the lawn where there seems to be a household. But the human condition on the backend is amazing.
Now take General. Nothing fucking happens and there’s no human condition. Why would the reader ever be interested in reading about this bullshit family when it looks and feels exactly as boring as any other regular-ass family? Spoiler alert: The reader wouldn’t be interested. There’s no reason to be because it’s just ordinary shit. And when the story is just ordinary shit, why would the reader choose to continue reading it when their life looks very much the same? The human condition doesn’t require a charging bull (see: “Greenleaf”, although this story does contain the human condition). The human condition can be found in “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love” which is just a fucking conversation. Or Hills. General seems to be what most literature is these days: Garbage. So fuck off, dude.
TNY, I did want to share something else with you I thought you would be interested in. Some other meat person, like myself, out in the world (pretty sure Australia) has been reading my letters to you. And they had some choice words. The following are the words I received:
This enterprise was kind of funny at first but then you got lazy with your criticism. Also, you criticize stories that I’m pretty sure you know are actually good but, in order to keep the gimmick alive, you feel that you must continue the “hate” parade.
I used to enjoy your rants but now they’re lifeless and unfair. Stop your impotent ravings at the powers that be and create your own fiction. Prove that you’re better. Because right now you come off like a sad little boy throwing rocks at the cool kids who don’t even know he exists.
This person chose to remain anonymous, which is sad. But they did bring up some salient points. I’m going to address him or her directly if you don’t mind.
Firstly, you are articulate, which I appreciate. And, you are both right and wrong, so I’d like to address some of the statements that are provided in this correspondence.
Lazy: I agree. Some of my criticisms are lazy (I chose to read all of General this week because of your “lazy” statement, but don’t expect it to last). There are a few reasons for the laziness. I don’t eat, sleep, and shit TNY stories. I have a real job. Real family. Real life. Sometimes life gets out of hand and I pay more attention to it than a shitty story. But that’s the other thing. See, these stories that I believe are shitty are awful. I’m not pretending. When I’m negative, it’s not the hate parade. It’s real. I genuinely feel that most of the stories TNY publishes are garbage. They have lost their way and are name-based publishing instead of pushing art. So, after reading so many trash stories in a row, it can be very demotivating to write another in-depth review on something like fucking “Cattle Praise Song” because it doesn’t appear the editor even tried to do his or her (her) job.
Hate Parade: See above. I’m not into thrashing a good story if it’s good. What you read is my truth. TNY is a shitty magazine publishing shitty stories (fiction). I’m not running a gimmick. I’m running honesty. Your opinion may differ from mine. That’s okay. I’m sorry to hear that you think some of these stories which I think are trash are good. But that’s your right. I can respect it. You’re an individual. I do not, though, have to respect TNY for publishing shit I think is trash and dragging literature down for profit.
Writing and what I’m doing personally: Well, bud, whomever you are, this is a toughy. Because the industry has really moved away from what I consider to be good literature and has firmly established itself in the realm of garbage. TNY is only one of so many magazines that are just pushing trash. People don’t care about literature anymore. So it’s really hard to sell product. This means that publishers are going to extremes to sell their shit to stay in business. So instead of publishing great stories, they are publishing trash stories by respected & established authors or agenda stories. TNY is definitely on this train. Each author has either received some prestigious award, is writing from an underrepresented voice in literature, or has sold a shit-ton of books. Note, the latter are the reasons the stories are being published, not because they are great. This compromises art, thereby bringing down the standards. AND IT’S FUCKING BEING DONE FOR PROFIT AND NOT THE BETTERMENT OF HUMANITY THROUGH THE HUMANITIES.
But, let’s be fair here, I do write. I write fiction and non-fiction. For instance, my records show me that I have submitted seven stories to TNY. Of those seven, I have one outstanding, another that never received a response, four that received form rejections, and one that received a personalized rejection (hey-o!). So am I in the fucking game, bruh? You bet your fucking hairy crotch I am. Do I expect to be published by TNY? See the above selection process to color my aggressive “no.” They don’t care about the lay-writer. I don’t have enough cred to get published there. For instance, the previous fiction editor was on staff for eight years and took ZERO FUCKING STORIES FROM THE SLUSHPILE. The current editor claims to take 20 to 25 percent from the slushpile, but if you look at the author bios for the previous year, you’ll note that most are not “slushpile authors”. I guess, maybe you don’t understand I am not allowed to prove that I’m better. The same goes for most writers. You have these fucking gatekeepers running businesses instead of literary magazines. And lit mags are so fucking marginal these days they can’t afford to take risks. I submit over a hundred times a year. I’m in the game. But literature has lost its way. It doesn’t matter if they know I exist or not. What matters is that they are publishing literature. And they are not. That’s my beef with TNY. That’s my beef with the rest of literature. That’s my beef with the general public, to be honest. Because if people fucking cared about the humanities, they’d vote with their wallets, and those votes would sustain mags and allow them to take risks with art instead of just keeping their mag in business with name-based garbage.
So fuck it if they don’t notice me. What they need to do is take a hard look in the mirror and be the platform they purport to be and not just a sheath of meaningless words to contain advertising.
I would like to say I really appreciate you writing to me and reading my stuff. Please feel free to reach out at any time. I’d love to know who you really are and have a conversation about art. Skype? You seem interested and passionate. Those are rare qualities these days.
Anyway, TNY, General was fucking shit. Do better.
Nick
