No replies to this topic

[Automatic Writing]

Hello all, I have read this particular forum for a while but don't believe I've posted in it. While I don't always agree with the criticism and particular literary ideas being espoused, I find that it's generally well-thought out and helpful. I've recently toyed with the idea of being a writer, as in, doing it for the purpose of publishing it. I don't like it, I'd rather write for myself. However, I don't feel like I want to do or even can do anything else. I've been writing all my life, sometimes for a purpose or sometimes just because I'm bored. As I mentioned in the title, I'm an avid Bukowski fan, but also enjoy Vonnegut, Albert Camus, Heinlein, and the list goes on. I've read a few books this summer, particularly enjoying Ham on Rye, by Bukowski. I wrote some vignettes that I felt were similar to those used as chapters in his coming of age novel. They are fictionalized, though based on truth. Below is the first one I'll share, as I think it's the most accessible. Let me know if you have any feedback or would like me to share additional works.



Around freshman year of high school, I started developing stomach problems. It might have been stress built up from my childhood and adolescence or simply a genetic predisposition. Either way, mornings became a painful and embarrassing ordeal. I didn't want to eat in the mornings. My stomach felt awful as it was; and my general lack of sleep and knowing that the next eight hours I would have to pretend to be a functional human being didn't help. There are few mental experiences worse than fear of the inevitable. My mother, being a caring nutritionist, would always have food ready and ensure I ate what she considered a "productive" breakfast. My stomach would continue to be distressed for the next few hours it digested what I had forced down my esophagus. This would mean that homeroom, a time to catch up on homework and catch your last free breath before the start of classes, became a struggle to keep my body from expressing its inner turmoil. Once the homeroom bell had rung, students were not to be excused until after the announcements had been read.
"There was a small fire in the art building..."
My stomach gurggled and began to churn audibly. I felt the gaze of a few of my classmates shift in my direction.
"The cause of which remains unknown..."
I felt gas form up in my stomach and move down my colon. I held it in for dear life, my abdomen contracting furiously as the gas pressed up against my innards.
"Anyone with information should come to the main office..."
The gas in my colon receded, causing a truly unfortunate lurching noise to emit from my stomach. I could tell that the majority of the room had heard the noise, and though it wasn't a fart so it wasn't instinctively funny or attention-grabbing, the more curious of my classmates began searching for its source.
I put my head down as if I were catching up on sleep missed the night before, as other students often did. I closed my eyes, but the pressure in my stomach and the anxiety of its audibility kept me on edge. Though I couldn't see them, I felt as if their eyes were all focusing on me; slowly but surely coming to the consensus that I was responsible for the disturbing, but vaguely humorous noise they had heard.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------