Episode 81 Signal v Noise

This week, playwright and returning combatant Michael Henry Harris weaves loss and redemption with his take on Signal, our Viceroy Nick Tecosky advances destruction with Noise, and we contemplate taking a long vacation.

We are the Mice in Cars %

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Episode 80 Attack v Decay

Knocking into each other in this episode: mad scribbler Clifford Smith with Decay versus writer of personal stories and creative non-fiction junkie Monica Greco with Attack.

Ain’t nobody got time for Mice in Cars!

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Episode 79 Steal v Earn

We wrap up our Chapter 24 podcasts with this bout between The Chief of WRITE CLUB Chicago, Lindsay Muscato and founder of Coconut Poetry, Bruce Covey.

It’s that damn Mice in Cars. They’re so hot right now.

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Episode 78 Blessed v Damned

Thunderdome’s got nothing on this shit. WCA’s Consigliere Myke Johns is blessed with the unenviable task of taking on WRITE CLUB‘s damned Founder and Overlord Ian Belknap. Sparks fly, hearts are broken. Enjoy!

Bless Mice in Cars’ hearts.

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1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

W. Somerset Maugham so I could yell, “I’m going to kick your ass Maugham,” and everyone would be shocked. But Mom and I, we would know. Yes we would. Cause we’re good like that.

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

unendurable cascade of anguish.

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?

World War Z. I’m moving through with zombie like slowness.

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:

Mom. Not Maugham.

5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

The Flail!!!

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

Sick kids break my fucking heart.

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

Let’s get a drink.

Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.

Agent Orange

1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

I would love to go head-to-head with Stephen King.  He was my greatest literary influence growing up, and his book On Writing is one that I’ve read every year since it came out.  I would love to sit down and have it out with him regarding process, what inspires him to write and how he deals with the influx of ideas, and just get a sense of what he’s really like when it’s just him, the page, and an empty room.  His book tells a little about that, but there’s always more to be said there.  Plus, I think he’d be a hell of a lot of fun to chat with regarding my own work — no doubt he’d have a few notes for me.  And I him.

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

Pitiless mockery.  But that’s totally cool; I think every writer who calls themselves a “writer” in polite (or impolite) company must steel themselves for a good old-fashioned ribbing.  There’s always something to prove… even if your words make it onto actual wood pulp.  Maybe even more so then.  Which makes the triumph over those staring down their noses at you all the more fulfilling.  If, that is, you can pull it off…

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?

I’m currently reading Eat Pray Love.  I’ve never been big into memoir, but my current project is a fiction memoir, and this book sort of chose me.  Elizabeth Gilbert has a beautiful voice and her style is so candid and naked that I can’t help but love her and be drawn into her experiences.  I admire her writing.

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:

A shout out from me MUST go to:  my best friend Mikki.  Remember this name:  Mikki Daughtry.  She’s a screenwriter in LA who’s *this* close to breaking it big.  She’s got two agents, a manager, and several scripts that always knock my socks off every time I read them.  She’s SO talented — makes my prose look like a monkey trying to fuck a football — and she’s also my greatest champion.  Her pitiless question to me:  ”Is your ass in that chair?  Why not?”  And believe me, any writer does NOT want to be on the bad end of that question.

5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

It would be a pearl-handled switchblade.  Pretty if you look at it in the light — and not very imposing against some weapons — but honed to a lethal edge.  If the powers of evil aren’t careful, they would definitely find themselves bleeding from five different places before even seeing me move.

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

I chose my charity because I love animals and hate to see them treated with cruelty.  Makes me want to whip out that switchblade.

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

Thanks for giving me a good fight.  Wanna grab a beer?

Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.

In order to justify his own awesomeness, he had to develop neuroses to appear more human in front of mere literary mortals.

1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

The young Truman Capote of the Harper’s Bazaar years. Impish and charismatic, he’d put on the show of shows. In high spirits after his win he’d spill secrets… antics of the literary circle in 1940’s New York; the hows of creating his vital characters, rich imagery, perfect metaphors.

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

Unendurable cascade of anguish. Sure to be the longest seven minutes of my life. Well, maybe not counting the last push in birthing my first child.

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?

The Tender Bar by J.R. Moehringer, Stephen King’s On Writing, Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins.

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:

The late Michael Belluomo, publisher of Sportswear International magazine. He provided my first chance to write as a professional for the apparel industry. He was a generous and encouraging mentor to whom I will always be grateful.

5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

Bow and arrow. Heck, it works for Katniss Everdeen. And blood makes me squeamish, so slaying my prey from a distance is appealing.

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

For victims of domestic violence, leaving may not be possible without support.

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

An honor to battle, worthy adversary. Let’s wipe off the sweat and head to the bar. Beers on me.

Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.

His obsession with horror. A result, no doubt, of having Jessica Lange for a mother and haunting a big, old house packed with mournful, lost souls for eternity.

Episode 77 Sick v Healthy

America’s Favorite Podcast pits actor and returning WCA combatant Kristin Kalbli against filmmaker Brent Dey in Sickness and in Health.

Mice in Cars: America’s Favorite Melody-Makers

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1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

Maybe Gary Shteyngart, but he’d kick my ass. Super Sad True Love Story is the book I wish I could write.

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

We’ll find out!

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?

Flimsy Little Plastic Miracles by Ron Currie Jr. He’s an acquaintance and his first two novels were awesome. It’s been cool to see his career take off. Check him out!

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:

My older sisters, only because they used to make me do their English homework.

5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

Nunchucks: controlled chaos.

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

The Beltline has the opportunity to bring different communities together in a really unique way, get people outdoors, showcase artist, and help improve Atlanta’s atrocious traffic problem.

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

The End.

Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.

I don’t know him personally, but I’m going to go with ‘daddy issues.’

1. If you could go head-to-head with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and why?

I’ve been ruthlessly biting my style directly from Spalding Grey for years, so I’d want to go toe-to-toe with the master. He would destroy me, though, with some great piece about what Heaven is like and how it reminds him of when he locked himself out of his apartment or whatever.

2. WRITE CLUB’s ruthlessly enforced 7-minute time limit: pitiless mockery, or unendurable cascade of anguish?

Did I use “ruthlessly” just now because you put it in my head? Probably. I’m not changing it because it’s the correct word.

Total anguish: I’m overly verbose. I usually do hour long solo shows, so it’s been a real challenge to shrink my “sprawling exploration” thing down to 5 minutes or so at other reading series around town. I just know I’m gonna blow it and have the buzzer go off before my killer final line.

3. What works, literary or otherwise, are you currently sharpening your teeth on?

I can’t stop listening to the new Kendrick Lamar. That kid is fucking dope. Just been alternating between King Kendrick and the new Yo La Tengo lately. And watching West Wing on Netflix. And I keep a collection of David Foster Wallace essays on my nightstand because of course I do, ugh, I’m the worst.

4. You’re contending in WRITE CLUB, you must be pretty awesome. Give a shout-out to someone who contributed to your awesomeness:

My parents are really awesome. My brother and I were the only artists to come out of a fairly large Mexican family and my parents, god bless ‘em, just rolled with it, even when it got weird and performance art-y. I can’t imagine that my father, in his wildest dreams, would have thought he’d be videotaping his son in tights singing songs from Cats or screaming profane gibberish about ghost pirates with huge dongs. But he was there, front row, with the video camera every time.

My mother tells me she can feel it when I’m about to go on stage somewhere — she says she feels nervous for me. “What if this is the one where they turn on him??” Really hope Write Club isn’t the one!

5. What handheld weapon would your writing be, were you to wield it in a street fight? (Against the powers of evil, of course.)

A big-ass whip with a razor on the end. Yeah! Just think of it, man!

6. Hey, literary fisticuffer, why’d you choose your charity?

The Leigh Bess Boone Foundation encourages volunteerism and internships in the performing and visual arts by awarding stipends and sponsorships. It was created in the memory of a dear friend of mine who loved volunteering for local arts organizations (in addition to a million other arts-related gigs and pursuits. She SM’d for Robert Wilson and worked on operas and traveled the world. She was the shit and she had the best laugh in history.)

7. You are standing over your vanquished opponent. What do you say?

“TASTE MY WRATH, SIMPLETON!” And then the next day, after the adrenaline wears off, I feel really guilty about it and hope they’re doing OK and maybe follow them on Twitter or find them on Facebook to check up on them and apologize and obsess over that look they gave me after the bout.

Extra Credit Question: Take your best guess at the source (or sources) of Viceroy Nick Tecosky’s neuroses.

I don’t know the source, but for a wild change of pace he might try “sleeping” for a change. Couldn’t hurt.