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The Hot Topic: Writing Ambitions

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From a half-mad ragbag collective of high-minded but low paid bloggers referred to in hushed tones in speakeasies across the land as the Mondo Gentleman’s Club comes the Hot Topic. Watch slack-jawed as the panel dissects the critical and cultural issues of the day! Wince as it sinks in a frenzy of angsty whining and barefaced self-promotion.

Mind your heads as you enter, readers, and stick to the path…

This issue: What are your writing ambitions?

From:  Mathew Brewster
To: The Hot Topic Collective
Re: Writing Ambitions

I got a BA in English not because I love grammar and such, but that I love to read and figured talking about literature for a living wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Plus English degress have minimal math requirements. I got sidetracked in graduate school and now my degree is little more than a $15,000 wall hanging, but I digress. Along with the grammar and the literature I took some writing classes. Loved ’em.

Writing was (and is) tiresome, frustrating and difficult, but extremely rewarding. I remember sitting in a poetry class getting a big ovation for one of my readings and feeling completely elated. Thus began the whispers of hope that maybe someday I could be a writer.

I’m much too practical to take that whispering too seriously though. Go to your local Barnes and Nobles and count the books on the shelves. A very small minority of these books are best sellers. And these are the ones that actually make the shelves of a big giant book chain. How many books never see the light of a booksellers shelves? How many writers never get published? That’s a lot to fight against.

The blogging phenomenon has suddenly made writers out of all of us. Instantly I can publish my latest sublimely written piece to the world. Millions can read my work with the click of a mouse. I remember publishing those first few pieces thinking about the hordes of fans that would be entranced with my every word. Fan sites would pop up, groupies would be knocking on the door. Then I got a site meter and realized that there were exactly two people reading my blog. Me and my mom. And even she doesn’t stop by that often.

There might be millions of potential readers out there, but there are also millions of writers vying for attention. Even with a site like Blogcritics, bringing thousands of people to my words on a regular basis, there still isn’t enough to make anything like a living out of it.

So, no I have no plans of becoming a professional writer. As for goals, I don’t have anything really specific in mind either. I enjoy the process of writing. I dig that Blogcritics comes with a plethora of eyes to read my writing. I hope I’m entertaining and once in a while thoughtful, or at least halfway intelligent. If I make a couple of fans along the way, then all the better.

And hey, if the perfect writing gig comes up, then I can split my day job like *that*.

From: Eric Berlin
To: The Hot Topic Collective
Re: Writing Ambitions

I was a writer long before I ever thought of myself as a “writer.” That label has all kinds of wonderful and grandiose and even pompous connotations, smoking jackets and rubbing elbows with intelligentsia and jumping in the Seine with a bottle of wine strapped to your abdomen, a platter of cheese plastered to your trousers and so on.

Writers tend to not be like everyone else. We’re weird, we see things differently. Looking back, it all kind of makes sense. I was a kid who was lucky enough to be part of a much-smarter-than-me crowd, but other than that I never fit easily into any “scene.” I liked sports but wasn’t much of an athlete. I adored music but turned out to be merely competent on the double bass. As I stated, I had friends but was by no means Tall Man on Campus.

I was shy among those I didn’t know well. I observed, sucking in the world and often making up detailed lives about strangers that I saw (often some combination of bizarre and comedic) without consciously realizing I was writing in my head. I concocted fantastical scenarios where I would swoop in to save the damsel in distress (always the pretty popular girl sitting across the classroom) from grave peril.

Moving on, I have clear memories of realizing, some time in my early 20s, “Dead God, I’m a writer!” and had all the rushing feelings of power and creative destruction and terrible ego that comes along with that at such an age. However, I was also cursed with a terrible laziness that went along with that ego and clearly decided that traveling and partying and getting kicks and avoiding responsibilities were far more the way to go.

You see, it was just all so hard! I had decided that to be a writer absolutely meant that you wrote novels — and not just a novel, it had to be huge teeming piled stacks of tomes, dust billowing off the thousands of pages that you whipped off in a month’s Benzedrine and instant coffee pan-dimensional muse-lock, pages that would clear the world’s concerns off the map in the built up ecclesiastical mania to read my work, yes My Work, the Novelist’s Grand Vision Made Real.

But how do you that? Where do you start? I wrote short stories, a few that were pretty good, made awkward forays into all different kinds of styles and modes of thought. Eventually, I realized that I must delve into the novel game or die trying. I made it a bit further each time: 10,000 words about saving the world before time ended, inspired by Stephen King’s The Langoliers; 40,000 words about a bizarre and updated ode to Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.

Then, in 2004, I was close, by golly. Strengthened by the wisdom of Stephen King’s On Writing, I was writing every bloody day. Didn’t care how hard it was, how painful, how awkward the words or stilted the plot ties. 600 words, 1,100, 588.

And I finished a first draft, all 85,000 reeking words of it! And yes, there’s a story in there too, a surreal (yet) comedic thriller based upon my experiences playing rugby and my Animal House-esque final year of college. Upon completing, I realized that the very best parts of the story were the real parts, the actual anecdotes and scenarios and pitfalls and mania of that wonderfully debaucherous year spanning 1995 and 1996.

Sometime in late 2004, as a lark and to to rest my brain while thinking about the next phase of the novel, I started blogging. It was so… easy. Easy and fun. And the instant feedback. My God, I said to myself again (not to say I am my own God, that’s an entirely philosophic brain-shaker that I won’t deem to get into right now), there are people who read my stuff. My shit. My gold, and all in between!

And I was hooked. After a brief spout of soul doubt, I realized I had come to where I always was meant to be, cheerfully spouting off into the electronic heavens about politics and music and television and life-things, all with the Big Picture perspective I’ve come to see things with and, one hopes, enough comedy and interesting bit-ends to keep people along for the ride.

So I take myself less seriously these days, or at least I try to! I sure do have a lot of fun though. It turned out that blogging was the place for me where “working” wasn’t work at all, that my need for creative outlet and instant feedback and the occasional e-pat on the head saying, “Well my, aren’t you so clever then!” could be met anytime I wanted, rain or shine, daytime or the darkest reaches of the vast electronic night.

From: Greg Smyth
To: The Hot Topic Collective
Re: Writing Ambitions

Okay, so I lied. I’m a great big faker. Sorry.

You see, the original post to the Mondo Group stated quite assuredly that, yes, I, Greg Smyth, had really quite obvious writing ambitions that were easily spelled out and that left me feeling quite good about myself. “I’m a do-er”, I thought to myself, “and all the multitude of plans and schemes I have are currently paying off.”

What a fool I am, because, as soon as the teeth of the Mondo Chattering Classes began chewing over the various novels and poems and the like that the great and good of this collective have in the backs of their minds or sitting, unedited, on their various hard drives, I felt somewhat foolish. All I wanted to do was write music reviews.

Sure, I’d love to write a novel but there are two things that either put me off or prevent me from churning out the Great Masterwork. The first is that, really, I’m not sure I have the patience or concentration span to stick with one thing for so long. Second, at what point do you realise you’ve got sufficient inspiration or ideas to begin such a huge undertaking? That’s the beauty of music writing, and I’m sure I’ve said this before, you’re espousing on one of a thousand objects that will pass over your desk in that year, each one for both a limited amount of words and always with some ready-made frame of reference or backstory. Never, really, are you as a critic faced with the purely blank page and the very specific Fear that instills in the writer. And particularly in one who doubts his own dubious level of talent.

Both Eric and Mat mention the liberation that blogging brought them. That, to me, is a whole hornet’s nest that could be saved for a future Hot Topic – is blogging proper writing/journalism? But let’s give it a spin here in the meantime. Blogging has meant that, when I’m sufficiently on the ball to do it regularly, I have an outlet for the finished product regardless of whether the commissioning editor of the magazine I’m pitching the samples to likes them. Prior to my introduction to blogging (and, perhaps more crucially, prior to getting a laptop and associated internet connection) I had a box file with old printed samples into which would go the latest attempt at getting a writing gig. I’d send out samples much less frequently and, so, a real lack of momentum developed and I wrote less and less. Since blogging properly, I’ve produced much more, and crucially, better content. Coupled with the ease of approaching editors via the likes of the internet (and, to my surprise, MySpace) I’ve begun to foster links with a range of publications. Hopefully one day I’ll meet one who’ll start to pay me!

So yes, initially, my goal is to write for (and, crucially, earn money from) mainstream music publications. Ideally, I’d like to write fiction in one form or another but the question of just how inspired you need to be before you can sit down with a novel on your mind is one that vexes me. Is a germ of an idea enough, with everything coming out in the wash eventually? Will the twists and turns that your imagination will invariably take you on be reliably frequent so that you can do the high-wire without the safety net of some sort of roadmap (mixing metaphors there, but you get the drift)? Hopefully, one day I’ll have to balls to find out.

From: DJ Radiohead
To: The Hot Topic Collective
Re: Writing Ambitions

This is, quite seriously, the 11th or 12th draft of this. I beg forgiveness from whoever has to edit it. Just know it’s late and the caffeine stopped working hours ago. I must go sleep now. Feel free to replace my scribblings with an excerpt from the Latvian translation of The Book of Mormon. I won’t be offended.

I have written, re-written, and re-re-written my contribution to this edition of the Hot Topic. In the process of trying to describe my ambitions and goals for my writing and podcasting I came to a surprising conclusion: fuck all if I know.

What the fuck do I do all day and why do I do it? I can’t explain it. I can’t make it make a whole lot of sense.

In some ways, my ambitions and goals have already been achieved and exceeded. I write pieces for Blogcritics and record a podcast. My work has been read and downloaded and listened to by people in Red states and Blue states. I have an audience. That blows my mind. “I’m bad, I’m nationwide.” The real mind fuck is knowing people in Canada and the UK have downloaded and listened to my humble podcast. I am international! Holy shit.

Here’s the kicker: some of them liked it. The hell you say! I’ve written and recorded works and other people have liked them. The praise of strangers has meant more to me than the encouragement from family and friends. My mom is supposed to laugh at my jokes. When someone else does, my feet don’t touch the ground for days.

Want to hear something more amazing than that? I have actually liked some of my own work, too. I have been annoyingly and sometimes intolerably insecure about the quality of my own work. I am often my harshest critic. I don’t like everything I do but even I have taken some satisfaction in what I have been producing as of late despite a predisposition not to see any of my own growth or improvement.

Could I hope for anything more than that?

Finding someone to pay me to do this would be great. Maybe some day that will happen. Maybe some day I will chase that dream and find that opportunity. There was a time when I thought anything short of that was a failure and a waste of time. It turns out I was wrong. I do not need the cash or the fame (although I will still take it) to feel fulfilled. I never would have believed I would feel this way. I am having fun doing what I am doing now. I enjoy it. It pleases me.

My goals and ambitions and hopes and dreams have changed a lot just in the five years since I graduated college. Maybe someday this won’t be enough. I might wake up one day and decide it’s not worth it or I want more. Who knows? Hell, someday we’ll all look back on this and plow into the back of a truck.

Has any of this made a damn bit of sense to any of you? Me neither. I guess I am just putting one foot in front of the other, gratefully plugging away for another 24 hours.

From: Mark Saleski
To: The Hot Topic Collective
Re: Writing Ambitions

I see “ambition” as a funny sort of word when it sits in such close proximity to my name. Not that I’m a slacker or anything. It’s just that things like ambition and career and success… they’re sort of foreign to me.

Does that mean I’ve been doing nothing all of these years? Of course not. Twenty-something planet-revolutions of CAD/CAM, pre-press, and various flavors of control system software. Lots and lots of bytes. Still, it never had inertia, if you know what I mean. Or… maybe it used to.

But… this writing thing kind of snuck up on me and, maybe for the first time, ambition isn’t such an odd concept.

A few years ago I started writing music reviews for Blogcritics. Yeah, there’s some inertia there. Plenty of it. The funny thing is that the source for this transformation, the push, the cause… has origins from my teen years. Many nights of scouring issues of Creem magazine cover-to-cover. Hours and hours spent in the University of Maine microfilm lab looking at old copies of Rolling Stone (Did you know they used to give out roach clips to new subscribers?!)

I lived for this stuff. But.. I just could not write. Not at the age of nineteen, anyway.

So what has changed 25 years later? Good question. I don’t really know. Maybe I needed to read a thousand or so more books. Maybe I needed to go to a bunch more concerts. Maybe I needed to discover jazz. And Kerouac. Maybe I just needed to live.

All I know is that this feels right… and I’m determined to make it work. It feels weird saying that. Good, but weird.

From: Duke DeMondo
To: The Hot Topic Collective
Re: Writing Ambitions

Is there a thought more potent with regards stirrin’ the sour waters a’ insomnia than the notion that, at 63, a fella will be as far forward, career-wise, as he is at 23? (It’s nothin’ short a’ shameful, an’ a touch ironic, that I couldn’t grasp a better word than career just now.) Not a day passes that I don’t get myself wound up twenty shades a’ mental with regards When Will Stuff Happen?

When will a fella be paid to write, that he might spend his days thinkin’ a’ new jokes involving “fuck” an’ not have to worry ’bout also, seems I’m starvin’ an ain’t an ounce a’ chow.

When will sympathetic ears light on mine net records an say “Oh, how ’bout we give you the money for to play this nonsense an also survive”?


The thought that, as far as statistics would suggest, never is the answer, well, that’s a mighty cripplin’ mind-fry right there.

Getting older an’ closer to the age when a fella has to say “Right then. Looks like it’s the Civil Service till I end up dead ‘hind a spreadsheet an’ no one notices till the death-stench starts fuckin’ wi’ the pot-plants.”

The glory of the web-net is that anyone can fling words an’ songs an’ images up yonder an’ have folks read, hear an’ watch. The terror of it all is that, yeah, anyone can.

“Yeah, he’s a writer an’ some sorta song-flinger.”

“Wow, that’s great.”

“Yeah, posts it all on the internet.”

“Oh. I thought maybe he was a proper one.”

It’s surely not enough to produce, cause we all do that, look here, can’t move for screeds an’ melodies an’ prose an’ poetic fuckery. Some blockage up yonder, somethin’ keeping a fella from slinkin’ that bit further ‘long the line, from the Amateur to the Professional.

There’s only so many lovely words a couple eyes can read before they start toyin wi the brain-glands, sayin “But if it is so very pleasant, how come The Real World remains oblivious?”

What the blog tomfoolery provides is the finest tools thus spawned for grabbin’ an audience, if’n a fella puts in the time. When the veil slides off the yap though, an’ the realisation hangs there cross the screen, the fact that however many hits yon page gets a day, it hasn’t made much difference in the ol’ Life, that can be enough to stomp any ambition to globs a’ frazzled shite.

So we keep on keepin’ on, an’ the hope remains. Those bloggers done got book deals, those Arctic Monkeys used the web to kick themselves up top the Record-Breaking Debut Record Sales ladder, these things are possible.

An’ try not to think how tiny, tiny, tiny that percentage is.

Okay people, so that’s what our panel of selected bloggers had to say, now it’s your turn. Do you find yourself locked in turmoil between the job you have and the job you want? Have you learned to find a happy medium that works for you? What are your creative ambitions and how do you express them? Has blogging helped you find a method of creative release or just led to niggling haven’t-posted-in-a-while tension?

Let us know!

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About Greg Smyth

  • Greg, you and I are in some agreement. I don’t think I have a novel in me. I don’t have the attention span for it nor is it the kind of writing that interests me.

    I love writing about music. That is a path I could see for myself.

    MondoCrew, well done once again.

  • I like to think that I have a novel (or two) in me, but actually writing one seems impossible. Once in awhile I punch out a couple of pages and the fear of sucking like major grips me and I stop cold. The ideas in my head never seem to match the writing on the page.

  • I have a novel in me … that’s gonna be one hell of a bathroom visit.

  • Another good thought, Brewster. The disconnect between my ideas and my ability to carry them off. I am convinced one or two of the shit pieces I have written were good ideas executed poorly.

  • I just crapped the Grapes of Wrath!

    There is a definite craft to writing. Lots of people have interesting ideas or stories to tell, but when told poorly it sucks. I worked a long time on learning how to tell a story orally. And I think I’m pretty good at it, but translating that into written word is quite difficult. There is a different rhythm to it and everything has to be described.

  • The craft of music and film and theater and writing does not get enough ‘play.’ There is a tendency to obsess about the art and ignore the craft. That is a mistake. You are right, Brewster. It takes both.

  • This is becoming a conversation of two here. Where is everybody? Ah well, we’ve got some good things going, just me and the DJ.

    There is absolutely the art or genius of it. That’s the part you can’t learn in school or by studying the masters. But what you do learn is the craft. By reading lots of differnt types of literature, or watching movies, listening to music etc you can learn what works, and what doesn’t.

    Craft is where a lousy writer can become a good one. Take someone like King. He’s someone I wouldn’t call a genius. But he has learned his craft, he’s perfected his technique and became a very gifted storyteller.

    I think that is my aim. to hone the craft.

  • We’ll carry the water until the rest of the kids show up, Brewster.

    I think all a person can aspire to is to grow at the craft because genius and artistry can’t be taught. Not really. That is the thing that is visited upon a scant few by God, god, Buddha, Jehovah, Allah, The Great Spirit, or Divine Accident. You either have that or you don’t.

    For mere mortals like myself we are trying to take the modicum of talent visited upon us and marry it to some solid craftmasnship.

    To that end, I have managed 555 words tonight. I don’t think I’ll hit 1,000 but then that wasn’t necessarily my goal anyway. I am doing the do.

  • Hey there all, well yes writing and all those asperations to finishing something and sending it off to the publisher… Part of the problem is that I’ve no control over the compulsion when it comes to writing, I have to wake up every morning and puke something out on the keyboard of the laptop or the day feels like a waste.

    Then I’ve got to churn out the “novel” That’s the thing I started back in nov..anyway this is what my post today was going to be about anyway..geez you guys I almost blew it by putting it in comments…

    I write because by now I have no choice in the matter, I don’t know when that started, maybe my first struggles at poetry? or that novel I tried to write when I was twenty one which will never see the light of day thank god.

    It’s always lurked in the back of my head, even when I was acting, so I guess it’s the dominante force in my life…which is good because I’m actually starting to get good at it…sort of, at least in my version of the English language…

    did any of this make sence?


  • I’ve always had writing ambitions or just ambitions in a creative field. I wrote short stories when I was six years old. I drew comics (although I can’t draw that well) in elementary school and high school. I started writing comedic skits in high school and saw skits that I wrote performed in college. I started writing reviews while I worked at a magazine in college and have really gotten into writing about TV, music, and movies now as a blogger.

    Right now, I don’t have a clue as to what I really want to do professionally, but I am damn sure I don’t want to work retail for the rest of my life. I’ve always wanted to be a versatile writer with the ability to tackle more than one type of writing. However, while I’m optimistic about becoming a better writer, I’m not so optimistic about becoming a writer professionally.

    For now, I’m pretty content with the wonderful, “anything you want to do” openness of blogging.

  • Dave Nalle

    I have three novels in my garage. I’d post them to BC, but then I’d have to both read them again and retype them on a computer since they were all written on an old electric typewriter. Way more suffering than I need.


  • Krishna visited me once claiming he was going to bestow genius upon me, but I didn’t like the gleam in his eye and kicked his ass.

    I’m impressed gypsyman, I wish I had that pull everyday to churn out something. I always tell myself I’m going to write X amount of words a day, but never manage it. Even now, I should be really writing since I’ve got a couple of hours before work. But instead I read, comment and generally put it off.

    Dave, I think that’s one of the discouraging things to me about trying to write a novel (well besides just generally sucking when I try) is that all that will come from my efforts will be something else to store in the garage.

  • Dave: or scan them into your puter, no reading necessary, paste and post, easy peasy!

    Or post a page a day to a blog running automatically so th4e blog builds your book, your audience and your income? It’s a Web 2.0 world!

    Oh my stars, I’m encouraging Dave Nalle. LOL 2.0 world!

  • Brewster, you have the makings of a short story there if not a novel. The day you kicked Krishna’s ass because you didn’t like the gleam in his eye. Classic.

  • A fine topic lads. Thanks for the top contributions this time round – you excelled yourselves.

  • I came to college 18 and concerned that I didn’t have a passion in life. Two years later, I couldn’t imagine myself doing anything else in life — writing has become my passion. When I was sidelined for a bit, I found Blogcritics and it gave me a renewed sense of pride in my writing passion. It was a new outlet and I don’t think I could ever fully explain how thankful I’ve been to have an outlet like this. (I also have the Chinese symbols for “writer” tattooed on my right foot, the foot I lead off on when I walk, so I always am led by my passion in life.)

  • (I’ll give him credit before he whines. Sussman introduced me to BC.)

  • Greg, you pitched us a good one. I still think the Latvian translation of the Book of Mormon would have been better than my own contribution.

    I know what you mean, Chelsea, about being so thankful for this outlet. I don’t know if I will ever make a living at doing what I love but I now have a place to do what I love and that matters more.

  • Great job all, I think this is very special edition. Even if it’s a little too insidery and navel-gazingish, who cares, it still kicks ass!

  • I enjoyed this, and I too found my own thoughts reproduced here: ‘actually liking my own work’ for one. Yes, weird huh? I know I could use more confidence, but it is nice to look back at certain pieces, and NOT cringe. Also, ‘not having the patience to write a novel’ Yeah, I am short on attention/patience myself. It is funny though, and I bet you Mondo boys (and others) have had this happen to you: You mention to someone that you are a ‘writer’, and they all eventually ask, “So, writing a book?” or some variation of that. I guess most people think that ‘writing’ equates ‘book’. It’s like me and the karate thing. Soon as people find out I do martial arts, they all say…’oohhh gonna kick my ass?’ Pretty soon, I’m going to have to reply, “yes, because that comment!”

    anyway – good job MondoBoys!

  • my naval’s burnt black wi the intensity a the gazes it’s been gettin of late, Mr B. Someone has to look, damn it.

    Mat has gone ahead an filled my head wi wonder at the thought of him kickin Krishna’s ass. Krishna plays a mean flute, though. Must count for somethin.

    The ol’ words-per-day carry on is somethin i’d fancy stickin to, but it’s hard. If i ain’t in the right frame a mind, i know there ain’t nothin gonna be written, or at least nothin that’s gonna survive the next “select all” an “delete”.

    Now, however, i’m sufficiently fired up by this banter for to go attempt Chapter One, Part One anew.

  • I wrote far fewer words last night but I actually finished a piece. Same in the end? Close. I wrote an article on what might be upcoming new music from His Royal Bobness (that’s Dylan). Different kind of writing. It didn’t need to be 1,000 words. There are rumors he is working on a new record. That’s the news. I added some other information to it but the news is HRB is working on a new album.

    This is why a hardcore daily word count isn’t what I need. I am still feeling this out but I do see a need for having a goal of some kind. I do need something to keep me writing, whatever it is I write. So I am working figuring out what that is.

  • Mary and Brewster, kicking ol’ Krishna’s ass. Someone writing this down? I want 20% of the gross.

  • kicking ol’ Krishna’s ass

    DJ – Who is Krishna? And why am I kicking his ass in particular? I must have missed something – drat.

  • Well, you do karate which means you kick ass. Mat had to kick Krishna’s ass for looking at him funny. Since we’re writing novles here I thought someone could turn you two into a tag team, ass-kicking SuperForce. Or something.

    This is why I don’t write novels.

  • Well, you do karate which means you kick ass

    ohh Duh, of course. Sorry, maybe MY ass( or head) has been kicked one too many times. I shoulda got that right off!

    Thanks for clearing that up.

    OK Matt, ya wanna team up and kick ass?

    (But WHO is Krishna?)

  • Hell, as long as I’m checking in here for the day, I’ll comment on this one.

    Writing ambitions are dangerous to the ego, but that’s no reason to fear them. My feeling is that before any writer can be successful, they have to form an intimate relationship with rejection. Know the pain of letdown and failure so well, that when shit does not go as intended, it is just another notch in the bedpost of a literature career. From there, just keep writing… not because you want fame and fortune, but because the love of the craft.

    On a side note, if any frustrated authors have creativity stirring inside, why blow all of your load on the written word? Try some other artforms: music, painting, drawing, spoken word, whatever. It’s my experience that there’s a strong correlation between them in how composition works. They truly lend to each other. But you’ll have to discover that for yourself if you dare to try something new.

    Lastly, anyone can write a novel. The only reason that any person cannot is a self-imposed limit.

  • Try some other artforms: music, painting, drawing, spoken word, whatever. It’s my experience that there’s a strong correlation between them in how composition works. They truly lend to each other.

    Oh I definitely wicked agree with that. Am pretty sure I have posted here on that subject once. But it’s true, Thanks Mark for bringing that up!

  • Kicking Krishna’s ass was nothing. I once had Buddha and Amun-Ra in a three way cage match.

    Next time you feel like kickin ass, Mary K, give me a buzz. We’d make a good team, I think.

    I tend to not mention my writing aspirations, and especially this whole blogging thing. The few times I say I blog, or even write for the online magazine known as blogcritics and I get blank stares.

    Reviews? Pop culture essays? Like why would anyone want to do that?

  • The few times I say I blog, or even write for the online magazine known as blogcritics and I get blank stares.

    I know – it’s like what I said earlier. People just don’t get it.

    OK, sure Matt – I’ll order the uniforms – very tasteful, no worries – maybe a big KAW on the chest (KickAssWriters) or something.

  • Man, put me down for a uniform!

  • do we get cool hats too?

  • Hats and fists of fury.

    Next year we’ll have auditions. You have to be able to kick a religious icons ass while reciting haiku.

  • I’ll be the comic relief. Wear the uni. Curse no end. Not actually do any of the fighting. Make smart ass comments.

    Fuckflings for everyone.

  • uh huh, yeah::taking notes::; yes..sounds good. One of the KAW specialties will be rescuing posts from being hijacked. Unless, of course, the original posters are the ones doing the hijacking. Then all bets are off. What does that mean anyway?
    My own specialties are digression, run-on sentences, most hand strikes and a turning back kick. We will be inspired by DJ’s utterances, not of “Great Caesar’s Ghost”, but rather, “Great Lumps of Fuck!”