Michael A. Arnzen: HUMOR IN WRITING Saturday, April 1, 4-6pm

Join us this Saturday from 4-6pm for a visit from author Michael A. Arnzen, who will speak on the subject of comedy in writing. Light refreshments, a book raffle, and meet-and-greet will follow.


Free tickets are now available at the Library's main desk. To learn more about the Author Series, please visit: http://www.uniontownlib.org/author-series

SMALL SPACE BIG LIFE YEAR IN REVIEW 2016

Earlier this year, Heidi and I started a YouTube channel as a place to share our travel videos. It's been rewarding and a lot of fun, and we hope to vlog more frequently next year.

This is a highlight clips from some of the amazing things we got to see and do this year. If you want to see more, check out our YouTube channel SMALL SPACE BIG LIFE.

Next up--BOOKtober!

September 29--DogCon V

DogCon is a big shindig RDSP holds every year to celebrate books, authors and all our supporters. It’s a chance for the RDSP family to get together, meet each other, show off the latest works and begin new creative ventures.

Details can be found here: http://rawdogscreaming.com/dogcon-5-broadkill-writers-resort/

Oct. 12, 5-9 p.m.--Whiskey and Words

Book and author vendors signing autograph and selling their books, Whiskey and Words will have lectures taking place inside the barrelhouse throughout the evening. Wigle Whiskey will also be dishing out a bevy of delectable drinks, a traveling food truck (TBD) will be slinging eclectic eats and there will be live outdoor musical entertainment during the evening’s soiree.

Details can be found here: http://www.pghcitypaper.com/pittsburgh/whiskey-and-words/Event?oid=1950438

October 15--10th Annual Western Maryland Indepent Lit Festial

The Frostburg State University Center for Creative Writing, in partnership with the Allegany County Library System, is excited to announce that the ninth annual Western Maryland Indie Lit Festival is scheduled for Oct. 14 & 15 at Main Street, Frostburg. The event brings together editors and publishers with writers and educators of the local community. Panel discussions and roundtable sessions include topics on various creative genres, DIY publishing, self-publishing, promotion and marketing, writing local, and reading and writing online.

Details can be found here: http://www.frostburg.edu/cla/indie-lit-festival/

TEN at 25!

August 27, 1991.

Starting my senior year of high school as the world around me smoldered in the wake of what had been a rough year-and-a-half. My parents divorced and I tumbled down a rabbit hole of depression that led to a month in rehab and the subsequent deletion of everything I loved and knew from my life.

My friends in high school had been replaced by the people at AA meetings. Older men and women who'd lost jobs and homes. People who'd done hard time in federal penitentiaries.

I left my childhood home to move into an apartment my dad shared with a recovering addict, a terrible decision based on guilt and shame. That was the last time I ever saw a lot of my old stuff. Magazines and posters and hundreds of cassette tapes. A large collection of fantasy and Stephen King novels and DUNGEONS & DRAGONS accoutrement. STAR WARS and G.I. JOE actions figures.

When I left the Adolescent Chemical Dependency unit at old St. Francis in Lawrenceville, they told me to get new clothes. My Metallica and Queensrÿche t-shirts were a sign of the life I was leaving behind. And even though nobody ever came out and said it, I got the impression I was supposed to emerge from all that turmoil like a butterfly out of a cocoon.

Except it didn't really happen that way. I'm not sure it ever does.

Pearl Jam's TEN came when I realized maybe I wasn't an addict, but just really, really depressed. The pink album cover represented a change from so many blacks and grays. The lyrics were intellectual in a way Guns and Roses weren't. When I first saw the video for "Even Flow" I realized the band didn't wear a uniform or costumes. They weren't putting on airs. They dressed like I did. And they shared my anger and frustrations and expressed them with more subtlety and nuance than a lot of the bands I listened to before. And they were mine.

The next year-and-a-half was as monumental as the previous eighteen months had been. I graduated high school and began college at Penn State, Fayette Campus. I started working for Laurel Highlands River Tours in Ohiopyle, Pennsylvania as a whitewater raft guide. When I walked through the parking lot that first morning of Cheat training down in Albright, West Virginia, I heard TEN blasting out of Bo Harshyne's old van. I'd found my new tribe.  

TEN was the bedrock upon which I'd build the life I'd always wanted for myself. It gave me a directive to seek the freedom I'm always wanted to be the person I needed to be. To dress the way I wanted. To read what I wanted. To explore new ideas and philosophies.

And twenty years later, when my writing career didn't seem to be following the trajectory I'd once hoped it would, Pearl Jam began reflecting on what it meant to be a part of something special for so long. The band and Cameron Crowe released PEARL JAM TWENTY, or PJ20, in 2011, and the retrospective reminded me of their battles with Ticketmaster and their struggles to maintain artistic integrity in spite of so much noise. In that way, the band and their ethos played a massive role in my eventual decision to self-publish a novel, a singular act that virtually every publishing opportunity I have today sprang from.

So when I saw today was the anniversary of the release, I stopped what I'd been doing to let it soak in. Twenty-five years is a long time ago, and a galaxy far, far away. Lately I've been joking with Heidi that my real birthday was some twenty years after the actual day I was born. I figured summer of 1994, give or take. My reasoning was that the events of the last twenty years have had as large an impact on my life as the events of the first twenty. And if that's the case, then it makes me happy to think that a little bit of August 27, 1991 is in my new DNA.

PARIS, November 13, 2015

We ended up there by accident.

It was mid-July and we wanted to go somewhere. Anywhere. Berlin, Budapest, and Barcelona were on our short list. Paris was too obvious, and we ended there for the lamest of reasons—it was a direct flight from Pittsburgh. Besides, everybody knows you don’t go to Paris in August. Restaurants and cafes might be closed. Everybody’s on vacation. The admonishments stung, and I felt like we were making a huge mistake. Then I spotted a line in an article that made it okay. A waitress, or shop girl, or bookseller describing what she loved best about summer in the city. “August in Paris is like a month of Sundays.”

Odéon was the closest metro stop to our little Saint-Germain-des-Prés hotel. But I got confused at CDG, forgot about transferring from the RER to the metro once we got into the city, and popped up onto the street at Saint-Michel–Notre-Dame instead of transferring to the purple line. And there it was. Our Lady and her gargoyles. And on the walk to Rue de Buci it hit me.

I’ve been lucky to have experienced many, many amazing places in my life. But there are a few that fly above the rest because of the permanent impressions they’ve left on me. At 19, I trained to be a whitewater raft guide on the Cheat River in West Virginia and took some big first steps toward understanding what it meant to be a man. When Heidi and I got married and moved to Florida in 1998, a rapid-fire series of events helped me learn what it meant to be a husband, and when she sat down to write her first novel there at our little kitchen table, she inspired me to want to give it a go myself. In 2005, I followed her to Seton Hill—defying a personal vow to be done with school forever—and realized maybe it wasn’t silly to pursue a dream after all.

But when we started exploring Paris—first, small loops on the Left Bank and Saint-Germain-des-Prés, the bouquinistes along the Seine and museums, then an expedition via the Grands Boulevards up to Montmartre on the last day of our trip—I felt like I was a part of a much larger world that had somehow existed forever. And it had nothing to do with Hemingway. Paris felt like a door to something very special. A visceral river of thought and ideas. Where I grew up—a rural, blue collar area—expression and intellect made you an outcast. I'd been threatened and beaten up for being different. But in Paris I felt a sweeping validation of my life choices in the spirit of the city’s art, architecture, food, and people. I no longer felt so silly for having embraced love and creation because I’d finally experienced a place that embraced those ideals at its core. And when we left, my heart ached to go back.

We are not made better by the good things that happen to us. We grow when we push toward the light. But to be a city of light in a world half-covered in darkness, that is a different thing altogether.

  

COFFEE WITH A WRITER! Frostburg Center for Literary Arts, Saturday, October 3

Hosted by the Frostburg Center for Literary Arts

22 East Main St, Frostbugh

MIX TAPE: The Dream of the Nineties!

Was talking to Mikey Rega (of the concert t-shirt debate fame) and I was telling him a little about PORTLANDIA. Not sure whether or not he'd seen it, I sent him a link to the season one intro.



But I had been in a bit of Nineties nostalgia mode prior to this discussion. Has something to do with the idea of, "...it was twenty years ago today." A few weeks ago, I dug out PJ20 and listened to a bunch of old shows. Then I Googled pics of Lisa Bonet from A DIFFERENT WORLD. (Damn, girl.) All of it got me thinking what WERE the 90s and why do I care?

I turned 20 in 1994, and I know that has a lot to do with it. It was a golden era for me, as I'm sure it is for most twenty-somethings. I had killers jobs--whitewater raft guide, record seller at National Record Mart, bookseller at Waldenbooks, seller of Timberland boots, Guess jeans, and Oakley shades at American Outfitters, where I met the lovely Heidi Ruby. I am also keenly aware that my current age has finally given me perspective enough to realize the passage of time makes any era distinctive. Because news and pop culture are fluid events, eras tend to blend until we get enough distance to stand back and take a look at the collective material from the culture rather than a snippet or two.

So, how do I define MY Nineties?
In no particular order: NORTHERN EXPOSURE, Patagonia clothing, Tevas, the Alice in Chains three-legged dog cover, Nalgene bottles, SUPERUNKNOWN, PULP FICTION and its amazing soundtrack, beaded necklaces, Baja shirts, THE CHRONIC, Bill Clinton, Woodstock '94, Dave Matthews Band, Pearl Jam, Lemieux, Jagr and the Pens, Drew Barrymore's Guess ad, Adam Sandler, Mudhoney, Structure, FREAKS AND GEEKS, Sony PlayStation and JET MOTO, Kurt Cobain, Silverchair, THE X-FILES, the Jennifer Aniston ROLLING STONE cover, OJ, coffee, SEINFELD, CLUELESS, THE LION KING, Netscape and Lycos, this Chicago Blackhawks jersey I loved and can no longer find... I could go on, but why?

I suppose one of the things I find most inspiring about the time period is the way some of these artists have continued to pursue art on their own terms, shunning the corporate ideals and commercialism that has reared its ugly head in some of the current era's art with seemingly greater frequency. (I know the money was present back then too, but Pearl Jam's fight against Ticketmaster is an important symbol, to me at least, of idealistically pursuing creation over money.) If nothing else, it gives me great pleasure to see MY heroes subtly rising through (with?) the ranks of Mileys and Pharrells to their rightful places as creative icons and veterans of a vicious industry. Maybe it's more a Gen X thing than a Nineties thing, but as somebody engaged in creative pursuits, I believe the ideals of that era are as important to me now as they ever were. Writing is about a fierce independence and living on your own terms. I feel like those are Nineties ideas.

Here's a little of the music I missed the first time around. (And it takes us back to PORTLANDIA.) Been loving Sleater-Kinney's new album. But here's a little taste of some older stuff to get you in that mode.

Sleater-Kinney - Live @ Coachella Valley Music & Arts Festival, USA, 30-04-2006

Source: Soundboard

Setlist

1.     What's Yours Is Mine 
2.     Jumpers  
3.     Rollercoaster
4.     Sympathy 
5.     Oh!  
6.     Modern Girl
7.     Get Up 
8.     The Fox  
9.     Step Aside
10.  Let's Call It Love  
11.  Entertain 

Check it out here: http://livebootlegconcert.blogspot.com/2013/04/sleater-kinney-live-coachella-valley.html

Introducing the JASON JACK MILLER MIX TAPE!

For a while I'd done a really good job (if I do say so myself) of 'curating' content from a wide variety of sources for this blog. Free material, cool stuff, hidden gems, and esoterica that appealed to me in some ways, which I felt compelled to share with people who enjoyed my books or stumbled upon the blog from elsewhere on the net. I'd done a few BEATLES COVER PROJECTS, where I'd scour YouTube for the best versions of Beatles covers for each album, starting at the very beginning and working toward ABBEY ROAD. For a while I was big on the 'Top 9' list, where I'd shared links to videos based on a particular theme, like Veteran's Day or guitar solos. I'd compiled essential concert bootlegs as a way to connect readers to the music in my books, AND to share some of the things that I love in an attempt to expose interested parties to new artists. The net is full of free, high quality shows that a lot of people don't know about, or have the energy to seek out on their own. (Usually a bit of 'digging' is involved, in order to avoid crappy recordings.) When I figured out how to embed Spotify playlists into the blog, that became one of my favorite things because I didn't need to stick with a specific artist or theme. I'd linked to PDF downloads that I'd found when I thought they might be of interest to writers and/or readers. My most favorite things ever are some of the self-mocking mash-ups and memes I'd begun to compile on this page: WRECK THE NET! The best was the 'Virtual Halloween Costume' I did this year. It even took my mom a moment to figure it out.

(Sorry, Papa.)

Until now, I never really thought about unifying all of that stuff under one header, if only to make it all easier to find. That's where the MIX TAPE idea comes in. Here's where I'm going to curate in one place the items I'd been scattering throughout the blog over the last few years. It's all going to be material that I love, or things that are very personal to me. The idea of a 'mix tape' gives me carte blanche to move beyond the realm of digital media, and I hope to review books, movies, museum exhibits, restaurants here as well. (I could've called it STUFF I LIKE) but the idea of a mix tape is a little more dignified, a little more Gen X, whatever that means.

Please note that I don't own, or host much of what I'll be sharing here. I'm simply collecting the things that please me.

I'm going to start with a little gem from Pearl Jam. Listening to it now, and it sounds great through headphones. I picked it because it was a soundboard, and because I'm thin in Pearl Jam stuff from the late 90s.  

Confession: I'm also in a bit of a PJ kick because the writing things are beginning to evolve in a number of different ways. I'd always admired the way PJ treated their fans, and the way they've fought, and changed, the system.

http://wegotshit.blogspot.com/2010/02/mansfield-ma-091698-soundboard.html

Disc 1:
01. Throw Your Arms Around Me (Ed pre-set)
02. Release
03. Brain Of J.
04. Hail, Hail
05. "To John"
06. Given To Fly
07. Dissident
08. MFC
09. Corduroy
10. Wishlist
11. Even Flow
12. Faithfull
13. Spin The Black Circle
14. I Got Shit
15. Improv
16. Habit
17. Off He Goes
18. "Lawn Orgies"
19. Present Tense

Disc 2:
01. Black
02. Do The Evolution
03. Porch
04. Go/Quarter Rant
05. State Of Love And Trust
06. Better Man
07. Alive
08. "Thanks"
09. Last Kiss

Check out the how here: We Got Shit...A Pearl Jam Bootleg Site

For some of these shows you're going to need a RAR extractor. I've been using this one: RAR Extract Frog

HAPPY HALLOWEEN 2014!

Trick or treat--here's my virtual Halloween costume for 2014! Now I'm off to get a few Cuba Libres.

Click the link and scroll down to see last year's Virtual Halloween Costume: http://www.jasonjackmiller.com/p/wreck-net.html

Reading at World Fantasy 2014!

The World Fantasy Convention is an annual convention of professionals, collectors, and others interested in the field of fantasy. It places emphasis on literature and art, while de-emphasizing dramatic presentation, gaming, masquerade, and the like. 

1914 was a time of transition, and the 40th World Fantasy Convention will focus on this with our commemoration of the births of the artist Virgil Finlay and the author Robert Aickman, as well as the beginning of World War I. We welcome you to join us in exploring the many facets, both light and dark, of these forces that shaped the future.

Last night I received word that my reading slot is Saturday, November 8 from 12:30pm-1pm in Arlington. (Right after Mr. Jonathan Maberry.)

I'm very excited to be a part of this, especially I've been knee deep in WWI research for ALL SAINTS--everything from Jacques Tardi to John Baxter. (Picked up three of Tardi's Putain de guerre! graphic novels in St-Germain des Pres this summer.) If I can polish up the WWI section from ALL SAINTS I may even read a little of that. Either way, I'm very happy to be a participant. (Thanks, Colleen!)

And I will be participating in the Mass Autograph Session, to be held Friday evening, November 7, in the Independence Center at 8pm. Bring your own books or purchase at the con! 

This is a little something I wrote for the program which was distributed at the inaugural Pennsylvania Literary Festival, held this spring in Uniontown.

My words were rooted in these hills, carried on the backs of the Irish farmers who followed the Potomac southwest instead of crossing the spruce-covered ridges of the Allegheny Front. My muscles formed from climbing white oaks and boulders, from hauling firewood. The mountain rivers that flashed through narrow canyon walls, over boulders and under high railroad bridges flowed through my veins. Laurel brakes that nestled beneath Pottsville sandstone ledges were my nursery. Sad fiddle tunes, played by old-timers beside a dying fire, were my genetic code.
 
These words from the epilogue of my second novel, Hellbender, came from the point of view of my main character, Henry Collins. But as the author, I had specific experiences from my

own corner of Appalachia in mind as I wrote them. Growing up among the ridges and mines of Fayette County—a place long written off by people who don’t get it, or don’t try to—has inspired almost a million words of my published fiction and nonfiction, and has left me with enough gas in the tank for at least a million more. From the Youghiogheny River’s Dimple Rock rapid to an abandoned coal mine called Crow’s Works, just outside of Fairchance, the locales of my home live on in the minds of readers, many of whom have never set foot in these hills, but now want to because of my books. The Currence farm from The Devil and Preston Black is based on my Great-grandmother Muchnok’s, near Dunbar. And Mick’s guitar shop? It’s where I bought my first guitar. And it’s still there, on Morgantown Street in Uniontown.
        

I ended Hellbender with the line Blood is not thicker than water. Family isn’t who you are born to, but with whom you choose to spend your life. And maybe I’m one of the lucky ones, because my wife Heidi and I chose to move back here after a stint in Florida. We chose to be close to our families and friends, to live in a place we’d call home no matter how far we wandered.

And this is why I’m so happy that the Pennsylvania Literary Festival’s journey starts here in Uniontown. Right where my very own literary journey did. It’s a place that fosters strong, deep roots. 

WRITING PROCESS BLOG TOUR

Thank you Albert Wendland for inviting me to participate in the My Writing Process (#mywritingprocess) blog tour.

1) What am I working on?

Right now I'm juggling a few things. As long as they don't fall at the same time, I'm good.

ALL SAINTS is the next part of the MURDER BALLADS AND WHISKEY series. It tells Ben's story after the events in THE REVELATIONS OF PRESTON BLACK. Ben is dealing with his PTSD and some other issues as a few of some of Dani's old enemies close in. Right now I'm working on a section from Dani's POV that sets the stage for the events in ALL SAINTS to play out. I'm really excited to be telling her story, and in a way, I think I'm seeing MURDER BALLADS AND WHISKEY is as much about her as it is Preston, Katy and the gang. 

The other big thing I got going is the thriller I'm working on with Heidi. Kind of like CHILD 44 meets THE X FILES. Very, very excited about this.

Lastly, I'm repackaging THE DEVIL AND PRESTON BLACK and THE REVELATIONS OF PRESTON BLACK into an Amazon bundle which will include song lyrics, short stories, some article I've written about the music I curated for the books. Kind of a Preston Black 'starter kit.'
 

2) How does my work differ from others of its genre?

If anything, it's urban/dark fantasy meets rural noir. The back cover blurb for HELLBENDER describes it as 'JUSTIFIED with witches,' but it's a lot more than that. THE DEVIL AND PRESTON BLACK reveals some strong literary elements while sticking to a fairly structured plot. Most of the horror elements are subtle, and of a more personal/less supernatural nature. THE REVELATIONS OF PRESTON BLACK is a more tightly structured plot that lets it sit firmly in the catbird seat between dark fantasy, horror, and supernatural thriller.

The best part of this nebulous genre labeling? My readers come from across the spectrum. Literary readers see deeper meaning in Preston's actions. Romance readers see the love triangle between Preston, Katy and Dani. The only thing it isn't, is SF (until PRESTON BLACK AND THE SPIDERS FROM MARS, that is.)  

3) Why do I write what I do?

I write what I know and love. Music, travel and the power of place, meeting the girl of your dreams. I try to live in a way that puts her first, and I think that's why the relationships are always at the center of my plots. And then there's the drinking...

4) How does my individual writing process work?

My process doesn't emanate from any particular place. The plot of REVELATIONS came from an image I had in my head—a woman walking through a swamp with fistfuls of vipers. HELLBENDER was conceived when a crazy weekend on Spruce Knob, West Virginia joined forces with a bunch of guide stories I hoped to tell one day. The book is is essentially a result of my love of the mountains. THE DEVIL AND PRESTON BLACK is my love letter to music.

But the process begins with a complete outline. Okay, 80% of an outline. Pages and pages of research—setting details, colloquialisms, historical details. I need to get as immersed in a world as I possibly can. The details let plot points reveal themselves to me as I go. That deep knowledge lets my outline—maybe that final 20%—materialize while I write.    

Here are some other participant responses:
Heidi Ruby Miller

Jen Brooks

Anika Denise 
Shawn Hopkins
Eva Hudson
Rhonda Mason
Albert Wendland
K. Ceres Wright

Ghosts of Christmas Past--Drunken Uncles!

It ain't really Christmas until the uncles are on the verge of passing out beneath the tree with their copy of THE REVELATIONS OF PRESTON BLACK.

Beatles on Ready Steady Go, November 23, 1964.

So I'm watching this Beatles vid from this day in 1964, and I'm trying to draw parallels to my own career. Which is stupid, because I'm not a Beatle. But I figure THIS is still their infancy. THIS is the band before the alternate personas and transcendental meditation.

I know, I know... These are The Beatles and you're just writing books about a guitar player and a woman who may or may not be the devil. But I love the idea of a young band, playing just to play. Smiling at the camera like nobody's watching. And that's how I write on a good day. Like nobody's reading. And that's why I'm going to continue to look at The Beatles as role models in 2014. And the haters can just keep hating.

DOWNLOAD: THE BOOTSTRAPPER BIBLE

 

I am the underdog. I realize that others are rooting for me to succeed, and I will gratefully accept their help when offered. I also understand the power of favors, and will offer them and grant them whenever I can. 

                                                   -Seth Godin, THE BOOTSTRAPPER BIBLE

In my experience, a lot of writers feel like it's a little crass to sell yourself. I always thought this was silly for two big reasons:

1. Fiction is selling. Whether it be a world, a character, or an idea, you are trying to convince the reader to believe you and your BS.
2. Writers want to be read.  

Maybe it's crass that I'm not ashamed to admit it, I don't know. But I'm grateful for guys like Godin, who have done a lot of the heavy lifting when it comes to providing a framework for guys like me.   

Read the rest, or download the PDF at SethGodin.com.

Jason Jack Miller’s Thirty (One) Essentials (With no apologies to Jack Kerouac.)

Find your soul mate. Marry her.

Life is rated in miles traveled rather than dollars earned.

Never be afraid to call off work.

Rob from Peter to pay Paul always. Especially when food or travel is involved.

You can never have too many guitars.

Never apologize for liking what you like.

Have a favorite hiking trail. And a second, and a third, and so on.

Summer chores (in order of importance): write, play guitar and drink bourbon on the porch, go to the mountains to swim, nap with the wife and the cat, cut grass.

Never choose cities over mountains or beaches. Never choose mountains over cities or beaches. Never choose beaches over mountains or cities.

Passports go bad if you don’t use them.

Music must always be playing in the background.

Eat sushi, Mexican food, cheeseburgers, pizza, and Indian food regularly for balance.

Bikes are meant to be ridden, not admired.

Never buy cheap alcohol.

Read the books you buy.

Star parties all summer long.

Love and torture the cat with equal enthusiasm.

Find a new band, a new writer, and a new restaurant every month.

Never settle for mediocre Chinese take-out.

Not finishing a hike is fine as long as you promise right then and there to finish it the next time.

Know how to change a bike tube and use a chain tool.

John said, “All you need is love,” but he was the only person on earth able to live without The Beatles. You need to know why they are the greatest if you don’t already.

No matter what local delight a back road gas station has for sale in a basket on a counter, buy it. Doesn’t matter if it’s a moon pie or boiled peanuts.

Learn the differences between black, green and oolong, and have a favorite.

It is perfectly acceptable to go out for ice cream every night of the week between Memorial Day and Labor Day.

Attend at least one life-changing concert per year.

Memorize quotes from movies and TV shows.

Favorite hats and t-shirts must never be thrown away. They must either disappear or disintegrate.

Know the people at your favorite restaurants on a first name basis.

The letters should be wearing off of your computer’s keyboard.

Don’t stop the carnival.

My soul mate is much more succinct, and needs only one essential: “Beauty, love, and art. A little house, many books, cherished friends and family. Good food, unique experiences, daily delights, and appreciating them all.”

AN OPEN LETTER TO THE OPEN LETTER EDITOR AT MCSWEENEY’S ONLINE

Dear Open Letter editor at McSweeney’s Online,

Thank you for taking the time to read my recent submission, AN OPEN LETTER TO SOME OF MY FORMER STUDENTS, written on a whim after a less-than-inspiring day in the classroom. No, there were no riots and I didn't have to disarm a rogue gunmen. For me, it was just another day--rapping about theropod evolution and why John Boehner is the devil.

Since I usually don’t have content for my blog, I posted the letter and shared it on Facebook. Some people left inspirational comments even though that really wasn’t my intent--I wasn't fishing for attention or anything. Maybe they were just being nice or looking for something to keep them out of Farmville. And next morning the letter kind of went away like a Shamrock Shake in April.

A few days later I got a tweet with a link to McSweeney’s Internet Tendency: OPEN LETTERS TO PEOPLE OR ENTITIES WHO ARE UNLIKELY TO RESPOND and thought, 'I didn't know such a thing existed,' and ‘Heck, I have an open letter’ and decided to send it in like I would any other submission. Then I patted myself on the back and celebrated with a few PBRs while shopping for artisanal jeans online.

Since submitting that letter--and receiving its subsequent rejection--I’ve taken the time to peruse the open letters that McSweeney’s has published and quickly noticed several differences between those letters and my rejected letter. Now I see, albeit a little too late (and much to my own embarrassment,) why my letter was rejected.

First and foremost, my open letter lacked any references to The Shins, Seven Jeans, fixies or any other culture tag that would let readers know I’m a devout follower of Stuff White People Like without having to show them my ironic Goonies tattoo. I now know that culture tags like these let people see the difference between serious subject matter and an ironic one. Since my open letter was about education, I could’ve referenced Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire, or Dangerous Minds, which would’ve let me make a funny Coolio aside.

In my letter I also failed to make any obvious nods to pumpkin spice lattes or Big Macs or any other consumerist icon that hipsters openly hate but secretly purchase. In an H&M dressing room I overheard a rumor that there’s an online list of things that are universally loathed by hipsters that’s updated pretty regularly, but nobody will send me a link. I'll just have to use my best judgement and hope I get a few right. And I'll also bring up Wilco, and how I went to see them in Pittsburgh back in April to establish my cred, and how going to a Wilco show is superior to going to a Dave Matthews Band show, unless it's to mock them in some way. If anybody questions Wilco's legitimacy, I'll just mention Nels Cline effects rack and they'll be like, Yeah, you're right."

If I do ever get the courage to submit again, I plan on writing several tangential observations about drunken Dollar Store purchases and microbrews, and using lots of italics à-la your unofficial style guide. And before I forget--you thought I’d forgotten to interact with the reader, right?

Speaking of non sequiturs, I have to name-drop my boy, Carnegie. He plays dobro in a string band that gigs at the bowling alley up in Brentwood where they have the duckpins on Thursdays.

To be honest, I really just want to get into McSweeney’s so I can call myself a real writer, and this is the easiest way I know how. Maybe you can give me Dave Eggers email address?

Sincerely,

Jason Jack Miller