Workshop
fiction by Tex Gresham & KKUURRTT
Hey man, are you okay? Just wondering because it’s the third story in a row you’ve sent me for feedback with an angel in it. What do you want me to say here? “Wow’?
Do I rub you as the kind of guy that’s particularly into moments like “I saved a man who was actually an angel. And if he died God was going to destroy the world.” That’s fucking grim to me, man. Lifetime Channel bullshit. Is that where you’re at now? Find Jesus in the back of a convenience store refrigerator lately? I don’t like what the city is doing to you…
I mean maybe also lose all the parts where you’re sneering at the audience for reading the piece? Or sneering at yourself for having written something contrived? It’s upsetting. Like you don’t know what you want to say and you resent anyone for having read it? “Bah, humbug — I hate this drawn out writing shit. All these little painted details that aren’t true. They just help you believe they are. And it takes so long to get somewhere narratively that ultimately doesn’t mean anything.” I mean… maybe don’t write at all then? I mean maybe stay away from narrative dissonance entirely, Charlie Kaufman? I mean maybe don’t write about angels if you don’t give a shit about angels? I mean maybe throw this out and never show it to anyone ever again except maybe your therapist?
I wanted to do something different for a change. We don’t talk about all that stuff—and we should. Especially after you casually mentioned seeing 1930s detective ghosts one night walking under the 101 overpass at 3am. Like, you said that to me as if it were true and then never talked about it again. So I thought you’d enjoy a thing about angels.
And like… Stay away from narrative dissonance? My brother in Christ, that is all that we do. Like…
EVEN THIS IS THAT?! Isn’t that right, reader?
See? Doing it here.
Some of these notes you’re giving me are very contradictory considering last week you had me read that new short story collection, Jesus’s Son 2: Bad Friday. Which had like everything—included Jesus buying spark plugs at AutoZone. How’s that different from a convenience store refrigerator?
And didn’t you send me a bigfoot story you wrote like two years ago? Sent it two years ago—I don’t know how long ago you wrote it.
And for your information, I did show it to my therapist and she said it was “unique.”
You know what's fun? Fighting over feedback on a piece of fiction you wrote that I couldn’t give a unilateral shit about it. I have no stake in this whatsoever except to make your writing better. This is valueless to me. Why are you asking me for feedback if you don’t even want it? If you want to keep on writing angel fiction, that’s fine by me. Get a chapbook published by whoever published the Bible for all I care. Chicken Soul for the Soup Press or whatever.
Also, when I showed you that story I said “look at how bad this is.” Do you even listen to me when I talk or are you just dissociating until it’s your turn again?
What?
Nothing.
You know what, thank you so much for your valuable feedback.
Have you considered joining a creative writing workshop?
What if you just change “Angel” to “Bigfoot?”
Yeah, that works. Thanks for all your support, you’re an angel. Can I keep the narrative dissonance?
No.
Ladies and gentlemen reading this, I just did.
Tex Gresham is the author of Pop! and KKUURRTT is also the author of Pop! Sure they’ve written other things, but this is their new thing and they wrote it in collaboration. You can find Tex everywhere at @texgresham and you can find Kurt some places at @wwwkurtcom.
