writing

Promo for Wred Fright’s The Front Yard War

(Editor’s Note: We were going to post another excerpt from the book during lawn season, which is now, then realized how well Wred’s promo for the novel sets up the narrative. Wred Fright is at the forefront of back-to-basics writing and publishing. Keep track of what he’s doing via his blog.)

Jane Carcrashski is getting a divorce. Jane Carcrashski is looking for a new career. Jane  Carcrashski is getting good at hiding her nervous breakdown. But one thing Jane Carcrashski is not doing is cutting the grass. You see, her estranged husband says he’ll do it, and she’s  making sure he keeps his word. Unfortunately, he’s real busy, so he hasn’t had time to do it, but he says he’ll be over tonight. If not tonight, then the next day. OK, maybe this weekend. Well, something came up, so next weekend? 

In the meantime, the grass is growing, and we’re past No Mow May into Angry Neighbors And Government Code Violations June, and Jane is thrust into an armed standoff with local  government goons fueled by a group of misfits drawn to her growing grass including a property rights extremist who maybe only loves his rights slightly more than his guns, a native plants  enthusiast who feels guilty about finding dandelion sandwiches so damn delicious, a yard artist  who thinks Jane’s yard just needs a few more inflatable flamingos and it would look better, and a digital druid who dislikes clothing and insists on live streaming his intense naked conversations with the plants in Jane’s yard. 

Remember the Alamo? Remember Waco? Remember Attica? Remember how the Harpers Ferry raid ended?–Also, remember when Harper’s Ferry used to have an apostrophe? OK, enough digression, let’s get back to the main point–Remember when Philadelphia dropped a  bomb on a bunch of militant vegetarians? 

No? Well, none of those had happy endings. Jane’s still hoping for one here, but that’s only probably because she’s drunk. If you like novels such as The Monkey Wrench Gang, then you’re probably on a government watchlist, but you’ll also likely enjoy reading The Front Yard War!

(The Front Yard War is available at Amazon, ebook or paperback; at Google; or directly from Wred Fright himself by contacting him at wredfrightATyahooDOTcom. Wred is a long-time underground writer– DIY all the way– who’s contributed several fiction features to New Pop Lit, most recently “Fast Guy Slows Down.”)

About Graphic Novels

–and their potential influence on literature.

Graphic novels and comic books aren’t taken seriously by literary people, even though they’re an offshoot of the novel (19th century melodrama; early 20th century pulp fiction), and are a gateway for many readers to the novel.

The basic building block for the narrative comic book is the panel. Mini-paintings or portraits, usually with words added. When they’re not, the stand-alone illustration is meant to make a point– to emphasize a key plot moment, even depict the story’s climax. The result: interconnected micro-chapters. Dialogue is used sparingly but well. The graphic novel embodies the principle of “less is more.” A single sentence or lone illustration carries meaning beyond itself. The technique works on not spelling everything out. On not having to spell everything out, a principle used first by impressionist painters, impressionist music composers like Debussy, and by 20th century modernist writers Georges Simenon and Ernest Hemingway.

“It wasn’t by accident that the Gettysburg Address was so short. The laws of prose writing are as immutable as those of flight, of mathematics, of physics.” -Ernest Hemingway

Ernest Hemingway was heavily influenced by Impressionist painter Paul Cezanne. Like Stephen Crane, Hemingway saw literature as a visual art.

USING THE TECHNIQUE

JUST AS the comic book/graphic novel was an outgrowth of popular novels, there’s no reason why serious fiction writers can’t in turn be influenced by the graphic novel. “The graphic novel without graphics.”

Ways to do this:

1.) More striking, over-the-top characters.

2.) More dramatic plots.

3.) Short mini-or-micro chapters, to emphasize each plot moment– and to keep the narrative moving at a faster pace than traditional literature. All part of what I call multidimensional writing.

ADVANTAGES OVER GRAPHICS

What graphic novels can’t do is get inside the heads of their characters. This can be used in multidimensional writing, as in traditional fiction, without going full Henry James-Virginia Woolf “stream of consciousness.” One of the failings of contemporary writing is the trend toward alt-lit/autofiction-style solipsism, which often as not cuts out the actual world: the tragedies and happenings of now. Which is a shame, given today’s contentious chaotic happenings begging to be intelligently addressed with understanding, compassion and outrage.

One of the strengths of multidimensional fiction is the ability to present a variety of viewpoints, quickly switching between them for a rounded, three-dimensional effect.

As we’ve begun doing with some (not all) of our writing. Including the just-released novella, The Loud Boys— now available in ebook form at Amazon. Print version coming soon.

-Karl Wenclas

An Excerpt from “Where the Rivers Meet” by Becky Tuch

NEW FICTION ALERT

Somewhere in the supermarket her daughter has gone to fetch toilet paper. They are supposed to be stocking up on supplies, items Erika has never had before in her life—canned milk, dehydrated meats, freeze-dried vegetables. Astronaut food, as if the whole country were about to shoot off into space.

And perhaps it is. The speaker overhead is playing Dido’s “White Flag”— “I will go down with this ship”—and the glistening floor is lined with social-distance markers. Arrows in each aisle direct customers one way or the other to avoid passing face-to-face. Every customer wears a mask; some of the cashiers wear plexiglas face guards.

Erika might not have come to the supermarket at all, were it not for the city-wide panic, a sudden rush for provisions. The stores were so overwhelmed she’d been unable to get an appointment for food delivery. At any rate, she felt funny about ordering food from home, sending others off to risk themselves on her behalf. Were some lives more expendable than others?

COMING SOON to New Pop Lit!

Interview: Joshua Vigil

1.)  Have you known women like the character in your story, “Straight and Narrow”?

I think everyone shares morbid desires similar to the woman’s, whether we admit to it or not. Certainly I see myself in her just as much as I do in the narrator. But do I know anyone who has gone out and done what she’s done? I don’t think so. Though, I guess, who’s to say? Perhaps I do and I just don’t know.

2.)  Who are your favorite writers, present or past?

Rebecca Curtis is one of our best living writers, in my opinion.

Other writers I return to often: Barry Hannah, Amy Hempel, Mary Gaitskill, Denis Johnson.

Also, Amie Barrodale’s collection is perfect.


3.)  Have you written a novel, or do you plan to?

I’m a little superstitious and so all I will say is: Yes. If nothing comes from it, I’ll trash it and try again. And then again? And then again? Probably one day I’ll give up actually. Maybe get into gardening. Birdwatching.

NOW read Joshua’s story, “Straight and Narrow.”

What’s Wrong with American Literature Part III

WHAT HAPPENED?

(Those who most need to read this, won’t.)

LITERARY INTELLECTUALS became too caught up in their own intellects. They lost sight of what matters most: That authentic art is of, by, and for the people. IS a part of a society’s every day life. HAS meaning within that context.

The same phenomenon stagnated classical music. It became burdened by the art’s own intellectuals: music critics and academic pontificators who added to the form a heavy legacy of profound and-or pretentious thought, when all that mattered was the emotional connection between music and listener. Those notes or chords, or voices– those moments which went deep into a person’s soul and were beyond thought.

New fiction in this culture today especially should be playing chords deep within us, not merely impressing us with some Gaddis Foster-Wallace Knausgaard exhibition of disconnected intelligence.

Dickens and Dumas in the 19th century were wildly popular for reasons. Jack London’s tales have been translated into every language in every culture on the planet and loved by readers for over 100 years for reasons. Literature as an art form needs to get back to those reasons if it expects to be central to this society’s culture once again.

-KW

Excerpt from a Novel by Chrissi Sepe

(From her novel-in-progress, Taming Jaguars.)

from wallup.net

Vera opened the French doors of her kitchen. “Linda,” she said warmly.  

An older woman wearing thin, baggy, beige pants, a white blouse, and a navy blue and orange silk scarf walked inside. She looked about Vera’s age. Her mousy brown hair was put back in a ponytail, and she wore a green sun visor hat. I hadn’t seen anyone wear a hat like that since the 1980’s. 

As Linda stood by the kitchen island, I read the designer labels on her shoes and purse. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said to Vera, giving me a thorough look up and down. “I didn’t think you’d have someone from the Center here so early.”  

I had no idea what she was talking about.

“Oh no, no,” Vera said. “This is Jasmine. She’s Patsy’s friend.” Vera walked to my stool and gently patted my shoulder. “Of course, she’s my friend now, too.” She smiled, and sweetly looked into my eyes.

“Of course,” Linda said. But she didn’t smile, and she didn’t say it sweetly. I still didn’t know what ‘the Center’ was. Vera immediately cleared it up, as if she read my mind.

“I guess Patsy didn’t tell you, Jasmine.” Patsy shook her head ‘no’ from behind the stove, as Vera explained. “I volunteer at a Women’s Recreation Center.” 

“Battered Woman’s Shelter,” Linda corrected her.

“That’s not accurate at all.” Vera motioned to Linda to sit down on a stool beside me, but she remained standing. “They don’t live there,” Vera continued. “It’s just a place for them to go as a safe and supportive space. These women are in a period of transition. Sometimes, they have just left an abusive marriage, other times, it’s a turbulent, dead-end relationship.”

“Most of the time, they just don’t want to end up dead!” Linda laughed at her own joke, and it was the first time she looked happy since she walked through the door. But her sour mood didn’t phase Vera at all. She just giggled and offered her French coffee which Linda finally felt comfortable enough to share with us. 

Chrissi Sepe appeared previously at our main site, New Pop Lit, with the feature story, “We Love to Watch Zee Cockroaches.” She’s also appeared in our zeens, most recently in Fun Pop Poetry, available at our POP SHOP.  

We also posted here a note about Chrissi’s previous novel Iggy Gorgess.

An Excerpt from “Straight and Narrow” by Joshua Vigil

A strip of light fell over a face I now saw was stretched tight from a billion surgeries. Her lips were plump with filler. Hair held in a loose bun the color of gold, fried into a delicate, brittle state. Her skin was a shade of varnished wood—perhaps beech? Looking at the balls of sweat that formed and rolled down her chest, I worried her tanning job would run and spoil the perfectly white rug I rubbed my toes into. I still value life, I said. Even if it ain’t always worth living. The struggle is what keeps me alive.

It sounds like you enjoy your poverty, she said, folding her arms into her chest. She was, despite or because of Dr. Whozit’s work, gorgeous—but I liked women in extremes.

Money talks, wealth whispers.

Shouldn’t that make you silent? 

What?

She sighed, dropping her arms to her sides. I want you to shoot me, she said, taking a step closer, slinging forward the scent of vanilla cupcakes fresh out of the oven. Her mouth was swimming in sweet gloss. Her cheeks coated with powders. Beneath it all, of course, I could see age and its cracks. We all had those. Not even Dr. Whozit could fully erase life’s faint fissures. That’s all, she said. You aim it into my chest, bang. Then we’re done. You walk away with $500.

Then: You won’t miss, she said.

But what if I do?

Coming Soon to New Pop Lit!

An Excerpt from “Give the People Guns” by Bela Seitz

(Reader Discretion Advised)

The journalists had already hounded the hospital for that information, not that it mattered. The damage was done with or without him being alive; the video of him walking home – and of course he had a respectable job as a custodian of an elementary school, which the news outlets were loving so they could paint him as defenseless never mind the fact that he had been walking home from his mistress’ house four hours past curfew – and then disappearing under a mound. A mound of rats. The video, which was from a surveillance camera in front of a bank across the street, was black-and-white and grainy, so upon first watch it looks like a wave of sewage water encased the elderly man, rolling over him and leaving him stunned lying on the concrete sidewalk leaking blood. But, once you squinted, you could see their eyes. And their tails, which were light enough to register as a milky white on the camera. A pack of rats jumped on top of him with the precision of an assassin squad and, in seconds, took him out. It had taken a few days to find another video but, with a new angle, the world saw that, after the rats had finished with Mr. Reed, they dispersed back onto the streets; they had come together as a writhing mass of spiky grey fur for no clear reason other than to harm him and then they disappeared into subway tracks, pipes, ripped open garbage bags – any dark place where they could find food.

Coming Soon to New Pop Lit!