Tag: Kurt Vonnegut

  • A Polite Rejection Letter to Kilgore Trout

    At the start of this year, I decided that I would actively work towards getting one of my short stories published in a lit magazine. To accomplish this task, I came up with a schedule that I would follow during the week, you know, while the kid was in school. In this schedule, I had time set aside to write, re-write, outline, and do research for stories I was working on. Also, I made time to do research on publications that I wanted to submit to, and submitted as well. It was a good system, as I did get a solid amount of work done in a very short time, which left me feeling productive. Now, for Summer, I stopped following the schedule because the kid was home, and vacations, and other home projects. After Labor Day, when the kid returns to school, I’ll get back to my work flow.

    I bring this up because, even though I haven’t actively worked on anything for two months, I’m getting responses from all the magazines I submitted to at the start of the year. I have yet to be accepted by anyone, no shock there. When I get the rejection email, it’s a form letter, which is to be expected, and I take no offense to it. During my time working for a publisher, and it was a very tiny publisher, we were inundated with submissions, and it was hard to stay on top of it. You needed form letters. So, it goes…

    Yet, the one I got yesterday has caused me to wonder me, slightly. It was the type of rejection letter that thanked me for submitted, but unfortunately they couldn’t find a place for my story in the magazine, and wished me luck in the future. All pretty standard stuff, and I don’t believe insincerely meant. Then the letter took a turn. They told me I was welcomed to submit again, that they accepted simultaneous submissions as well, and added a list of websites that contained lists of other publications to submit to. I took this to mean that they were trying to be encouraging – that there are hundreds, if not thousands, of other publications out there. I thought it was a nice touch. I spent twenty years doing theatre, an industry that is built on persevering rejection, so getting told no is nothing new.

    What I started thinking about this morning was the lists, of lists, of lists of publications out there. In essence, these publications wouldn’t exist unless there was a bottomless collection pond of unpublished stories to draw from. I know of no publication or publisher that has a lack of material submitted to them; lack of talent might be a different story. There are probably millions of unpublished writers in America. People we may never read, or ever know of. Billions of words and ideas that never get beyond a small circle of friends and family.

    At moments like this, I start to wonder if there aren’t just millions of Kilgore Trouts running around. I mean, minus publishing stories in porn mags, but I think you get the idea. Maybe there should be a Kilgore Trout Society for unpublished writers. Their symbol could the asterisk.

    (You know, if you liked it, please take a second to “like” it, or comment or share. There is a version of me that really needs the validation.)

  • I Finished “Breakfast of Champions”

    When I first read Vonnegut’s “Breakfast of Champions or Goodbye Blue Monday” I think I was nineteen or twenty. I was eating up just about everything the guy wrote. I remember loving the book so much that I tried to push it off on just about anyone who would listen. My best friend latched on to the book just like I did, and we still will state that “BoC” is our favorite Vonnegut novel.

    I read the book only once, or, at least I have no memory of reading it a second time. I say this because I recently re-read “BoC”, as I am going through all the books that I feel influenced me to want to become a writer. What I remember about the book is that it played with structure, and storytelling. I remember Vonnegut putting himself in his own book, and I thought that was such an interesting choice as I felt that part of the reason for the book was Kurt dealing with his own mental issues and his anxiety over having these issues, just like his mother had.

    Having just reread the book, I had totally forgotten have much the novel deals with racism. I mean, I remembered that some of the characters said some racist shit, but when I was reading the book again, I see that Vonnegut was full force attacking the image of Heartland Midwestern good honest Americans, by saying that these people were just as racist and bigoted as the people in “down south.” It felt like a contempt, a deep contempt for the people that Vonnegut grew up with in Indiana, and America on a whole. There were some things that were very dated from the early 70’s, but Vonnegut’s take on embedded racism, still felt very current. The novel is a dark satire, and at some points felt very nihilistic, yet Kurt’s writing still was hilarious and fast paced.

    And then I started to wonder why I had forgotten about all of the racism? Why had that not resonated, and stuck with me? I know that I am getting older, and the last time I read the book was 25 years ago, so I’m not surprised that I don’t remember all the details. But, if you asked me a month ago what “BoC” was a bout, I would have told you mental health, and I would have been very confident in that answer. I don’t think I would have actively tried to forget that the book was about racism, yet I did forget about it.

    There really isn’t an answer here, just an observation on myself. Just a reading machine who is trying to be a thinking machine.

  • Good Old Kurt Vonnegut

    It was a slightly strange weekend. First of all, I was a horrible father, and showed my child a movie, which I thought she would find entertaining, but actually just gave her nightmares. I speak of 1999’s The Mummy, which I thought she’d find fun, and not scary. I mean, this is the same kid that had no issues with any of the Indiana Jones movies’ and their face melting, heart removing, and weird aging/dusting thing. Nope, total miscalculation – Mummies are very scary to seven-year olds.

    So, I’m a shitty dad, or at least that’s how I felt Friday/Saturday night.

    The kid couldn’t sleep in her room alone, so I stayed up with her on the pullout sofa. I was looking for something to watch that would put the kid asleep, but still keep me engaged, and I found a documentary about Kurt Vonnegut on HULU (This is not a movie review) that fit the bill. Though Vonnegut is one of my favorite writers, I really didn’t know anything about his life other that he sold cars at one point, and got divorced.

    After watching the documentary, I had two questions I wished were answered; first, why did Vonnegut choose to move to Barnstable, MA from Schenectady, NY? I get that living on Cape Cod is cool, but did he know someone there, did he vacation in the Cape first, did he read an article about the place? I mean, what was it? Second, how did Vonnegut, who by his own admission was just getting by selling short stories at this time, afford a home on Cape Cod? I am assuming that Cape Cod has always been Cape Cod, which means it has always been in demand, but back in the 50’s, were homes really that big AND inexpensive that an infrequently published, and modestly monetarily successful writer could afford a home? Was his wife supporting him?

    I really feel these questions need to be answered, as I think this is the failure of most biographies; they never explain how an artist paid their bills when they had no money, and still found a way to create.