“Charlie could see people waving to other people as they walked across campus. They waved like people that had the luxury of dropping pennies on the ground and continuing to walk past them. They didn’t look winded or tired or fucked. They were wearing various facial expressions ranging from neutral to mildly happy. Charlie thought about the things that she would give up just to feel neutral. “I would give up feeling fucked to feel neutral,” she thought.”—(from a short story tentatively titled ‘Charlie’)
“She remembered that touching is a concept made of smaller concepts that she had forgotten the working definitions of. She couldn’t make her arms extend at the elbows like they were supposed to. She didn’t know how to do this anymore. When Charlie remembered touching she could also remember loneliness.”—(from a short story tentatively titled ‘Charlie’)
recently i fell in love. the words indeed have been spilling and bursting out of me and the words i’ve been writing have been unrecognisable to me when compared to the things i angsted over for hours, and i do not like one more than the other. it is indeed rocketing me forwards and my happiness is propelling me to write myself happy, and the words that are coming out of me now are coming out and they don’t need editing. i’m happy with the words that are coming out of me and what made them come out of me in the first place.
sometimes when i write it comes out in a bit of a garbled mess but the ideas are good so i sit and i write and i edit and i see on how i can make it better. i have a life outside alt lit and that is the performance poetry i regularly do in the uk. when i’m writing a poem that i hope to perform i edit it differently to how i am writing a poem i want to be read. alt lit isn’t my entire literary life and i think some people should be happy to admit that. anyway. so when i’m performing at a poetry event i’m pretty happy with the reaction i get and it is indeed the reaction that i feed off. i know that i’m getting that reaction because i worked hard toward something and i’d rather that than have an audience that i convince myself “just don’t understand me” or are “haters” when i banged out a poem in two minutes about shitting and sleeping.
let me reiterate again that i am not anti-#quickshit. i don’t want another shitstorm.
i am anti being told i should be pitied for editing my work. it’s the arrogance of that which irritates me. like the very idea i sit and nurture my own words like they are ready to hatch makes me a bad writer and how comes i’m approaching writing like this, like i actually don’t have that original emotional drive or wealth of feelings in the first place, like i am deficient in passionate feelings and i’m coolly stringing words together to portray an artificial account of powerful emotional experiences.
so please. i don’t give a fuck what your stance on #quickshit is. i wrote a poem just now that all came out in one go and i liked it and it made me happy and i sent it to the person i wrote it for. if i want to get into a lit zine i admire i’m likely to spend longer constructing something i would be proud to have published. i wrote a #quickshit poem for a mag once (it’s been published) and i still hate that poem. i don’t think it deserved to get into that zine. but that’s just me, i’m a typical overachieving perfectionist. when i’m editing at the places i edit, i can tell #quickshit a mile off and i personally don’t like it and won’t tend to publish it. i’m no longer into doing favours for my friends. what is dispassionate about feeling so strongly about the point of your poetry or prose that you want to spend genuine time taking care of it, making it perfect, making it something you can feel very proud of?
alt lit, seriously you frickers, let’s just stop telling eachother we’re doing it wrong. i know i’ve done that in the past and it’s so boring now. i feel like when people get bitchy about styles of writing it’s based around a certain insecurity. you have to be insecure in yourself if you want to put people down for how they write and i understand that on a personal level. nobody is right and nobody is wrong. stop being such a dick about things and work out what you want from life. is “lots of results coming up when i type my own name into tumblr search” what you want from life? then sure, go ahead, be an asshole. is some kind of career as a writer what you want? then carrying on editing and working and loving your writing enough to nurture it and you my friend will go far.
sian rathore re walter mackey re hashtag quickshit