If you’re a writer, you know. If you’re a writer, you’ve seen pictures of people with straw hats writing in sun-dappled fields. If you’re a writer, you’ve seen hundreds of pictures of people with straw hats writing in sun-dappled fields. You’ve seen them on the covers of writing guides, on advertisements for writing workshops, on posters for writing retreats, on applications for writing contests and on websites that sell acid-free writing notebooks and expensive fountain pens.
This is brilliant. I'm sending it to all my friends who also don't write in fields with straw hats.
When I first moved to LA, I did try to write on the beach. Do not recommend. Sand does not come out of keyboards and the glare of the sun somehow manages to happen from any angle. And don't get me started on the distractions.
Anyroad, your writers' workshop is the only one in the known universe that has ever tempted me.
In film school, there is a type of scene, in a type of short film, where the main protagonist is having a deep identity crisis... They wander into a field and walk around, brushing the top of the plants with their fingers, in a half-blurry shot... This joins the pile of student film cliché shots such as: someone looking at themselves in a broken mirror (the "broken self" shot), or someone lying backwards in their bath and looking straight up from under the water (the "very broken self" shot). There is something so inherently infuriating about absolute earnestness, I guess. Thanks for the laughter; if that's of any comfort, I think you are one of the most distinctive writers on Substack, for what it's worth.
"...And if you’re a writer like me, they make you wish for nuclear holocaust." "Well fuck, I thought. I guess it’s that I haven’t been writing in a cornfield. " "I’m done. I’ll drive for Uber. I’ll deliver for DoorDash. I’ll suck dicks at truck stops. ""I don’t wear straw hats, you know why? Because they get in the way of me pulling my fucking hair out." Your writing always saves my day, Shalom! When I find you in my inbox, I drop everything and sit down to read, because when you write this stuff I find myself cackling like a hen. ( When I, myself, write this kind of stuff I just sound crude...) You made so many good points here that I relate to, AND you made me laugh. Thanks for excellence.
"They should look like a madman lives there and he could come home at any minute, and he isn’t going to take too kindly to your looking through his madman writings when he does."
“I’ll drive for Uber. I’ll deliver for DoorDash. I’ll suck dicks at truck stops. I’ll drive people in my Uber to truck stops where I’ll hand them their DoorDash and suck their dicks.”
-- This made me laugh so much 😂
And also, the lady in the sixth image also has a straw hat with maroon coloured edges, by the left corner of the image 😅
I’m totally with you, man. I write in a cupboard sized room that used to be a toilet and it is just right . With my luck I’m probably allergic to corn or straw or mechanical typewriters 🐰
I read somewhere that Isaac Asimov said that he would be happy writing in a small booth at a train station. I write in a converted half of a walk-in closet (the other half is my wife's coats, which are ideal to muffle when I bang my head on my desk...it's a small desk). Is there a claustrophile writers club? Maybe there should be. Meetings can be held in an elevator. They'll be very short.
The important thing about writing is that the reader enjoys what your have wtitten. As my wife and I sat on our couch tonight, in between NFL and Hamas updates, I asked her if I could read her your story and she agreed. As I read it we both just couldn't stop bursting out into earthquake creating bouts of tremendous laughter. Thank you so much for that. We needed that. We really needed that!
Well just crap! Bullocks. I just ordered a strew hat from Amazon Spain and had to pay an extra 14 Euros to get expedited shipping (which means in a week, more or less) so it will arrive in time for the writers workshop I signed up for in a secular kibbutz in Turkey, specializing in farm-to-table kale. Since they included all the Chai smoothies (blended with artisanal concentrate from barrel dregs of Kentucky bourbon) you can drink, I figured I would actually be saving money and the temptation to write from the luxury of a climate-controlled self-driving tractor harvesting organic wheat seemed so idyllic from the windowless basement of my aged parents home. You have wanked my mojo ...
This is brilliant. I'm sending it to all my friends who also don't write in fields with straw hats.
When I first moved to LA, I did try to write on the beach. Do not recommend. Sand does not come out of keyboards and the glare of the sun somehow manages to happen from any angle. And don't get me started on the distractions.
Anyroad, your writers' workshop is the only one in the known universe that has ever tempted me.
Thank you for writing this. I’m not a writer, but you make me really glad to be a reader.
In film school, there is a type of scene, in a type of short film, where the main protagonist is having a deep identity crisis... They wander into a field and walk around, brushing the top of the plants with their fingers, in a half-blurry shot... This joins the pile of student film cliché shots such as: someone looking at themselves in a broken mirror (the "broken self" shot), or someone lying backwards in their bath and looking straight up from under the water (the "very broken self" shot). There is something so inherently infuriating about absolute earnestness, I guess. Thanks for the laughter; if that's of any comfort, I think you are one of the most distinctive writers on Substack, for what it's worth.
Cut those scenes together and throw in a close-up of Bill Murray, and you've got yourself a Wes Anderson film.
"Earnestness" is the right word. It's awful.
Thanks.
"...And if you’re a writer like me, they make you wish for nuclear holocaust." "Well fuck, I thought. I guess it’s that I haven’t been writing in a cornfield. " "I’m done. I’ll drive for Uber. I’ll deliver for DoorDash. I’ll suck dicks at truck stops. ""I don’t wear straw hats, you know why? Because they get in the way of me pulling my fucking hair out." Your writing always saves my day, Shalom! When I find you in my inbox, I drop everything and sit down to read, because when you write this stuff I find myself cackling like a hen. ( When I, myself, write this kind of stuff I just sound crude...) You made so many good points here that I relate to, AND you made me laugh. Thanks for excellence.
Shalom, I know your problem - you didn't have an expensive fountain pen.
Thank you, I love your writing.
Of course, it's the pen!
Great post and I love this line about bookstores.
"They should look like a madman lives there and he could come home at any minute, and he isn’t going to take too kindly to your looking through his madman writings when he does."
I love this so much. Sending it to all writer friends (I don’t have many real ones cause I live in Woodstock: friends or real writers.)
'Writers were lunatics'. Let's make that 'are'.
“I’ll drive for Uber. I’ll deliver for DoorDash. I’ll suck dicks at truck stops. I’ll drive people in my Uber to truck stops where I’ll hand them their DoorDash and suck their dicks.”
-- This made me laugh so much 😂
And also, the lady in the sixth image also has a straw hat with maroon coloured edges, by the left corner of the image 😅
Holy shit, she does. Begone, Satan!
😂
I also see a little stack of ancient probably first edition books near the hat, snuggled softly by her side. AAAARRRGGHHHH
I’m totally with you, man. I write in a cupboard sized room that used to be a toilet and it is just right . With my luck I’m probably allergic to corn or straw or mechanical typewriters 🐰
I read somewhere that Isaac Asimov said that he would be happy writing in a small booth at a train station. I write in a converted half of a walk-in closet (the other half is my wife's coats, which are ideal to muffle when I bang my head on my desk...it's a small desk). Is there a claustrophile writers club? Maybe there should be. Meetings can be held in an elevator. They'll be very short.
Practical and cozy😂
The important thing about writing is that the reader enjoys what your have wtitten. As my wife and I sat on our couch tonight, in between NFL and Hamas updates, I asked her if I could read her your story and she agreed. As I read it we both just couldn't stop bursting out into earthquake creating bouts of tremendous laughter. Thank you so much for that. We needed that. We really needed that!
Oh my god, thank you for the very-very-very-very-very-needed laugh today!
Well just crap! Bullocks. I just ordered a strew hat from Amazon Spain and had to pay an extra 14 Euros to get expedited shipping (which means in a week, more or less) so it will arrive in time for the writers workshop I signed up for in a secular kibbutz in Turkey, specializing in farm-to-table kale. Since they included all the Chai smoothies (blended with artisanal concentrate from barrel dregs of Kentucky bourbon) you can drink, I figured I would actually be saving money and the temptation to write from the luxury of a climate-controlled self-driving tractor harvesting organic wheat seemed so idyllic from the windowless basement of my aged parents home. You have wanked my mojo ...
I sincerely apologize for only laughing every other line. In between I was gasping for breath.
Point to consider, those lissome writers do need to listen for combines or corn pickers.
I know I couldn't write that way, I have allergies.
If you happen to travel by air, I have just the thing:
Plane Don't Let Me Down
https://youtu.be/nLvp0hLY1Ac?si=U51buYZ1A62zlTjm
I wrote this in Nashville back in '82 when flying was about the only thing that worried me. And "flight attendant" was still "stewardess."
I've been flying for years but I don't like it
When I board the plane I always sit right by the wing
When the stewardess comes around with the drinks I buy 'em
Get a little buzz and then I begin to sing
Oh plane don't let me down
Jets keep making that sound
Every mile means I've lived a little
longer.
I've been flying high too long
Time to get my big feet back on
the ground
Listen to me plane don't let me
down.
I've seen those facts and studied all those statistics
They say it's safer to fly than to walk across the street
But my stomach can't read and my body says it ain't natural
To relax in a chair at thirty nine thousand feet.
Oh plane don't let me down
Jets keep making that sound
Every mile means I've lived a little
longer.
I've been flying high too long
Time to get my big feet back on
the ground
Listen to me plane don't let me
down.
Yes I've been flying for years and I think it's marvelous, I haven't crashed. Yet.
But the very thought ices up my brain.
One of these days I'll call up my agent and say
Next time I go to Chicago. I'll take the train.
Oh plane don't let me down
Jets keep making that sound
Every mile means I've lived a little
longer.
I've been flying high too long
Time to get my big feet back on
the ground
Listen to me plane don't let me
down.
Oh please I want to make it plain
Don't let me down.
Hats off to you for this one. And I just threw out my trucker hat.
holy. wrote like a madman, for all madman wanting to be more mad. i love this