Circa 1995
My creative writing professor in college, you might have heard of her, wrote on the back of my paper, "This stuff is all well and good, but if you want to make it as a writer in this world you need a kitschy PR gimmick." She’d had her name legally changed from Liza K. to just "Liza" and then to "Just Liza" and most recently "Liza Morisette".
Under the latter pseudonym she wrote confrontational man-hating stories in the second person. Even if her latest piece was entitled, "You Stupid Gigolo" she had a point. Like if I’m going to write about feelings I should be more like that guy that writes only about feelings in "The Story of Grrr!" which featured Anger Incarnate as the protagonist struggling against ex-girlfriends.
I wrote out all the pros and cons of my writing abilities, the biggest con of which is my tendancy to get distracted by tangents. The worst tangent being in a piece I wrote entitled, "My Marxist Matrimony" where in the middle of the lesbian wedding vows, I told the allegorical tale of an old woman in Mexico who made tortillas on a hot rock in the desert and of how this was such an act of sacrifice because it enabled her adopted grandson to emmigrate to the United States where he was ultimately shot. The moral of it being that a little only goes so far.
[NOTE: I wrote this as part of a slightly larger and equally rambly piece that was never finished. I seriously want to write the stories referenced above. Also I'm testing the cross posting function so I can write stuff on my blog and have it appear *magically* on LJ.]
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