Nerdhole Yammerings.

First y’all. Brought to me by my fave Murder Bear and my Comrade Scott Nicolay, read this essay. 

Imma get nerdy because y’all..okay before nerdery let me tell u a thing. You know how I’ve been sick as fuck for like 2 months? Turns out I have epic infections in my faceholes. Sinus, ear, near teeth involvement and my face ballooned up on Monday and I wound up in the ER for a few hours.

Upshot is I’m on a fuckload of major antibiotics, painkillers and shit to deal with the bodily fuckery caused by said antibiotics. This is probably why I’ve felt so terrible for so long and it is fucking awful. And I gotta work so here we are.

So yeah.

Shit is fucked up. Money is fucked up. I feel fucked up.

So let’s nerd.

I have a strange sort of poky relationship with weird fiction. A lot of the weird fiction I’ve read hasn’t resonated with me as a reader for lots of reasons. A lot of the time the strangeness and sense of danger I crave in what I consider weird is missing.

I’ve thought a lot about that and I think it comes from being a Black person in the world. My feelings about horror a lot of the time are similar. I can appreciate weird and prettily written. I dig it but I don’t really -feel- it. For me weird fiction needs to unsettle me at a deep level to hold my attention.

Horror and Weird *HW for the duration* is just so conservative underneath. and I’m not talking industry fuckery. I mean, for fuck sake we’re still arguing about whether or not Lovecraft’s racism is important soo…

Anyway.

Lately some authors I’ve loved from afar for a long time and whom I sorta know personally have put out things that disturb me on that special level and inspired me to get back into creating HW.

Meeting and reading these authors has given me a new level of faith in what creeps me out. That is a place that in my work I feel is somewhat sacrosanct. I can’t take it being sullied by bullshit.

HW is my sacred place where I can reach back into my baby potato writerhood and use my adult brain to explore and play with form and texture in a way that other types of writing. Even within the Daiyuverse I’ve set myself some boundaries and constraints even though I am making up the magical system and whatnot but I am trying to keep a certain flavor to the work and keep a type of cohesion going.

I think that the disconnect for me as a reader is the same as it is often with Bizarro fiction. On one hand I appreciate it but I tend not to feel it and I don’t like that.

So that said I’ve been dipping back into The World. As last seen during yeah write. For me I want to revisit the world and explore more ways of digging into it. The overall thematic arc is weird to me. That basically the world is not the world for reasons that if you find them out as an Innocent, you won’t be okay. I play with the chosen one idea, my chosen ones aren’t pure pretty blond valley girls.

They are hoes and strippers, scrappy lesbians, folks with Sankofa knowledge, some who are cut off from their cultures and jobs. Addicts. I take those factors and I want to weave them into the narratives not as morality points but as backdrops for the weirdness. The stories in the world are really the opposite of what most HW I’ve found is.

They are generally fairly concrete in ways, they take place in the hood but not in the suburban kids go to the hood to buy drugs (the basis for a popular horror author’s book that I hated, not to be named just because I don’t want his stans coming up in here again, if you search the blog hard you’ll find it) and wind up in a haunted/creep house. Nah.

What I’m playing with isn’t classic Horror or Weird.

It isn’t the pastoral delights of Rural Maine where the magical shuck n jive negroes roam.

I don’t want to hide eroticism when it happens, or separate cosmic flavored horror. I want this thing that I might be doing to be weird as I feel like these things would be weird in the world I live in.

I stopped working on this last year because of more run ins with just shitty shitty stuff in the business that made me feel like my playspace was ruined. I had some more of these flash stories tucked away but my zeal was tarnished.

That said, y’all know I’ve reached fuck it and well fuck it.

I’m not as fast at doing fiction as I used to be but, this is a thing going on behind the scenes. Eventually I will probably offer this as a little ebook on Amazon or something for funsies.

We’ll see.

At the end, it might not turn out to be weird fiction at all. I dunno. We’ll go for the ride together.

I’ll probably do a few more warm up Yeah, Writes. And let me say again how great Yeah, Write is for honing your skills y’all. Get on that.

I think that’s all. I’m very tired and my guts are abubblin.

I love y’all.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s