Otters Who Look Like Benedict Cumberbatch: A Visual Examination.
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You are your metaphors
One of the identifying characteristics of 90s rock was the near-ubiquity of disease metaphors in lyrics. It was an odd time when pop songs routinely mentioned hospitals and vomit and medicine. And it was everywhere. Even hip-hop got gross for a little while. And, of course, that can all be traced to Nirvana. People wanted to write like Cobain, so they used his language. But that was the problem. It was his language.
Kurt Cobain had a rough life. He suffered from a number of serious health issues that he’d been struggling with since childhood, including intestinal problems and a congenital bone disorder that left him in near-constant pain. It’s part of what led to his heroin addiction. Even though he had legitimate diagnoses, doctors were reluctant to prescribe painkillers to him because of his youth and appearance. So he got it on the street. Throughout his career, he peppered his songs with disease language and medical jargon, because that was something he knew intimately. Turmoil and frustration, to him, meant aching bones and ineffective treatments.
Emotional authenticity is like catnip to a music critic, and they praised the fact that you could feel this man’s pain through his music. It was brilliant stuff, but it was no trick. He created unique metaphors based on his own life and experiences, and threw himself headlong into their expression. He bled every goddamn note, and every bizarre, gross-out line meant something real to him.
When writing, try to find your truths. Mine your own experiences, and dig deep. Especially useful are the things in your past that people around you think are weird or fascinating or tragic. Use them to say what no one else can, in a way that no one but you ever could. Don’t borrow someone else’s life by borrowing their language. It’s the difference between Nirvana and the dozens of semi-successful imitators whose names you can’t remember anymore.
I’m really not interested in writing “Rachels.” I worked on the first year of Friends, I understand Rachel, but the sort of sweet, faintly dim girl who ran away from her own wedding… I just feel like we’ve seen that way too often. For me, I’m more interested in stronger, perhaps a little older, more well-rounded, intelligent, self-actualizing women who make things happen for themselves, and who don’t need a guy or motherhood to define them.
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Jeff Greenstein, writer/co-exec. producer, Friends, Will & Grace, Desperate Housewives via the Nerdist Writers Panel podcast |
Blog it up, blog it in, let me begin
Holy cats, I have a blog? When did that happen?
Whatever, ass-butt. I tweet like a golden god, so I don’t need any guilt trips about how i never blog. You got that, “Frank Beaton”? Yeah, that’s what I thought.
ANYWAYZ! I wrote a short retrospective about the Planet of the Apes franchise to accompany Erik Henriksen’s excellent review of Rise of the Planet of the of the of the Apes in this week’s Portland Mercury. You should read it because I use the F-word and the S-word and that’s funny.
Here’s what happened today
I deployed a major new redesign of CBR. It could not have gone worse.
I failed miserably at making pad thai for the first time, and may have given myself food poisoning in the process.
I split a toenail on my right food. Very painful.
My check didn’t arrive. Again.
I got nothing written, except a few work emails and this blog.
My daughter walked.
Today fucking ruled.
