When you write a (somewhat) comic novel about suicide, you’re going to ruffle some feathers and catch some flack. Expecting not to is like walking into the Republican National Convention wearing a Bill Maher tee-shirt and expecting not to get shot. And punched. And shot again.
Now before any of you leave this blog post in disgust and decide you want to shoot and punch and shoot me, let me assure you that I understand there’s nothing funny about suicide. My soon-to-be published novel, The Exit Man, does not make light of offing oneself. It tells the tale of a man, Eli, who helps terminally ill individuals end their immense suffering and die with dignity. The humor in the book stems not from death or suffering but rather from the complicated predicaments that Eli continuously finds himself in. And from paradox. You see, Eli’s day job is that of a purveyor of party supplies.
That said, I acknowledge that the original opening (which I share below) to The Exit Man was a bit much. It did little to establish Eli as a compassionate figure. While many early reviewers of the original manuscript loved the aforementioned opening for its darkly comic and sardonic tone, a few others worried that it might make readers see my anti-hero as much more “anti” than “hero.” So, after much deliberation, I decided to scrap it from the book and replace it. (Not that the new intro isn’t dark and sardonic in its own right.)
Now, just because I decided the original intro wasn’t quite book-worthy doesn’t mean it isn’t blog-worthy. So here it is for your enjoyment, or your displeasure. Or both.
Most people can’t execute a successful suicide to save their life. I’m not talking about folks who go at the task half-assed as a cry for help – e.g., slitting their wrists superficially and sideways or chasing a couple extra Oxycontin tablets with a couple extra vodka shots. No, I’m referring to individuals who really want out but who very unintentionally botch the process, leaving themselves technically alive and with a lot of explaining to do.
In their defense, killing yourself can be tricky business. The human body, despite its seemingly brittle nature and uber-sensitive systems, is surprisingly resilient. It wants to stick around even when the brain is ready to call it quits. Mentally and emotionally you may have had enough, but your body is hell-bent on keeping at least a handful of critical organs open for business.
The body’s innate ability to hang on and bounce back isn’t the only issue. We humans also possess a general inability to gracefully operate instruments of self-destruction while under duress.
So the next time you hear about a failed suicide attempt, don’t instantly assume the “victim” in question didn’t try hard enough. It could very well be that they gave it their best shot but bungled it anyway.
I mean, consider the challenges and risks associated with the most common exit methods.
Wrist slitting. Blood let from arteries or veins by a razor blade often coagulates too quickly. Clots occur and keep the pulse pumping, thus ensuring that you’ll reluctantly live a long(er) life in a monitored room.
Self-inflicted gunshot. A rifle or revolver inserted into the mouth and aimed up at the brain pan tends to jerk forward when fired by an amateur, thus leaving the brain in tact but the face flayed – a vivid bisection from upper lip to forehead that makes facial reconstruction and future dating doubtful. It also greatly hinders one’s ability to do long division.
Overdose. Popping even a highly lethal dosage of pills often results in excruciating abdominal pain prior to passing out, after which involuntary regurgitation typically spoils the show. And even if it doesn’t, there’s often someone who discovers your toxic self and quickly calls in the paramedics for a successful stomach pumping.
Jumping from a bridge or building. Unless done from an excessive height, such attempts are often unsuccessful. The 50-foot leaps and 6th floor “falls” that we often hear about are really just an invitation for full paralysis and a lifetime of liquid food.
Jumping in front of an oncoming train. While this will do the job nine times out of ten – making it among the most fatal suicide methods – it is easily one of the messiest and most publicly invasive techniques, an ugly inkblot on the art form. Mind you, shattered bone fragments often act as dangerous shrapnel upon train impact, placing bystanders at risk of serious physical harm or, at the very least, post-traumatic stress disorder. And let’s not forget the damage that delayed trains do to the productivity of area businesses when jumpers opt to obliterate themselves during morning rush hour.
Carbon monoxide inhalation. This method is sooo 1975. Since then, nearly all automobiles have come equipped with a modern catalytic converter, which strips about 99% of the carbon monoxide from the vehicle’s exhaust. So unless you have a full day or two to sit around in a small, sealed garage with the motor running or can get your hands on a vintage Chevy or Dodge, forget about exiting John Kennedy Toole style. Keep in mind also that carbon monoxide poisoning is by far the least green method of suicide, so if you fail in your attempt, you not only will likely be institutionalized, you will have to endure the scorn of all your friends who recycle and drive a Prius.
Hanging. What are you, in prison? Living in a pre-industrial society? You can do better than this. I mean, I can see if you desperately need out and all you have at your disposal is some rope or fabric and a chair or tree. Otherwise, seriously rethink this. First of all, proper noose-making is a painstaking process. Secondly, the success rate for hanging isn’t high. Even when it does work, it’s not pretty – death often comes in the form of slow, painful strangulation rather than a quick cut of the cord.
Intentional car crash. Please. Today’s airbags are far too reliable. Besides, this method is really in poor taste. I mean, what did the innocent people in the oncoming car ever do to you? Even if your plan involves no other vehicle, why would you take out your own despondence on a majestic oak tree, or on a tax-payer funded overpass exhibiting artful graffiti that gives your suburb at least some semblance of a soul?
Drowning. You are not a poet and you never will be. So just stop it right now.
I do apologize if my attitude toward self-annihilation seems a tad cavalier. Please do not assume me a heartless bastard for exhibiting such callous levity. Let me assure you, I do not take suicide lightly.
After all, it’s how I make my living.
For the handful of you who made it to the end of this post and don’t need to lie down immediately, you can check out the new opening to THE EXIT MAN by clicking here.
And if you haven’t already joined my mailing list, do so now to receive the entire first chapter of THE EXIT MAN.
My love of dark comedy started at a very young age – likely ignited by watching my two older brothers punch one another in the face. Funny stuff. As I grew up, I’d often find myself laughing in places and at things that typically disturb more well-adjusted people. Hospitals. Funerals. Public education.
After I learned to read… correction… after I learned to LIKE to read – which didn’t happen until after college – it’s hardly surprising that I found myself drawn to books brimming with black humor. I’d even laugh while reading books that were dark but not at all intended to be funny. For instance, I found Dostoyevsky’s Notes From Underground to be a riot. And Kafka’s The Trial made me almost pee my pants.
There’s a fine line between humor and horror, laughing and lamenting, funny and frightening.
Following are my 10 favorite dark comic novels, along with my two favorite lines from each:
1) Fight Club (by Chuck Palahniuk) A stunningly original tale of a young corporate insomniac whose life changes completely after befriending an enigmatic soap salesman who hosts underground fighting matches in bar basements. You’ve seen the movie – it’s good. Read the book (if you haven’t already) – it’s brilliant. Just don’t talk about it – that’s the first rule… and the second rule. I just broke both.
Favorite lines “At the time, my life just seemed too complete, and maybe we have to break everything to make something better out of ourselves.”
“On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.”
2) Lolita (by Vladimir Nabokov) As haunting and perverse as it is hilarious and tender, this was the first book that had me fully rooting for a character who, if I ever met in person, I would punch in the face before reporting him to the authorities.
Favorite lines “You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style.”
“I knew I had fallen in love with Lolita forever; but I also knew she would not be forever Lolita.”
3) White Noise (by Don DeLillo) White Noise is (mostly) about an “airborne toxic event” that forces a college professor and his family – along with the rest of his idyllic town – to evacuate and cope with the chaotic aftermath. Myself having experienced first hand the nuclear meltdown at Three Mile Island in 1978 (my elementary school class was on a field trip in Harrisburg, Pa., that day), this grim yet funny book really hit home. Yes, I’m allowed to write run-on sentences about books that moved me.
Favorite lines “I've got death inside me. It's just a question of whether or not I can outlive it.”
“California deserves whatever it gets. Californians invented the concept of life-style. This alone warrants their doom.”
4) Survivor (by Chuck Palahniuk) A book featuring a death cult, an imminent plane crash, and lots of steroids and collagen – how could it NOT be funny? It’s a brazen piss-take of fame, organized religion and just modern life in general. The chapters and pages are numbered backwards – beginning with Chapter 47 on page 289 and ending with page 1 of Chapter 1. Mr. Palahniuk is a madman. I want his autograph.
Favorite lines “It's only in drugs or death we'll see anything new, and death is just too controlling.”
“People used what they called a telephone because they hated being close together and they were too scared of being alone.”
5) Slaughterhouse-Five (by Kurt Vonnegut) Any one of Vonnegut’s novels are deserving of a spot here, but I went with Slaughterhouse-Five because Wikipedia told me it is his most influential and popular work, and I don’t question Wikipedia. The book is a combination World War II satire and absurdist sci-fi time-travel tale that leaves you laughing and crying simultaneously, assuming you are alive when reading it. It’s also Vonnegut’s most personal book: It centers on an actual historic event that he himself lived through as a soldier – the infamous firebombing of Dresden.
Favorite lines “And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep.”
“How nice -- to feel nothing, and still get full credit for being alive.”
6) American Psycho (by Bret Easton Ellis) Readers should be arrested and locked away for enjoying this sick, twisted and unflinchingly violent novel. But that will never happen, as there simply isn’t enough space in the world’s prisons to accommodate everyone. Whatever you do, DON’T read it. But do.
Favorite lines “I'm into, oh murders and executions mostly. It depends.”
“Disintegration – I'm taking it in stride.”
7) Catch-22 (by Joseph Heller) Hands down the funniest novel about war ever written – and one of the funniest novels period. At the heart of the book is an American bombardier named John Yossarian, who, along with his fellow airmen, are forced to continue flying an ever-increasing number of perilous missions assigned by their callous colonel. That such comedy can come from such terror and chaos is fascinating. And confusing. I need to go lie down now.
Favorite lines “Be glad you're even alive. Be furious you're going to die.”
“The Texan turned out to be good-natured, generous and likable. In three days no one could stand him.”
8) Rant (by Chuck Palahniuk) No, Chuck Palahniuk’s publicist is not paying me anything. I realize that featuring in my list three books from a single author is a bit much, but Mr. Palahniuk is a modern master of dark comic fiction, and if you disagree, I’ll fight you in a bar basement. Rant tells the story of Rant Casey – a small-town high school rebel with a thing for getting bitten by rabid and poisonous creatures, destroying things during urban demolition derbies, and killing lots and lots of people. I believe it’s ranked dead last on the list of “Quaintest Books Ever Written.” You’ll laugh and have nightmares – often simultaneously.
Favorite lines “In a world where billions believe their deity conceived a mortal child with a virgin human, it's stunning how little imagination most people display.”
“What if reality is nothing but some disease?”
9) Hope: A Tragedy (by Shalom Auslander) You’ve probably never heard of this novel (or this author), but any book that features Anne Frank as one of its main characters AND makes you laugh out loud on every page is certainly deserving of a spot on this list. (By the way, in this tale, Ms. Frank survived the Holocaust and is living in the attic of a modern-day family’s farmhouse in rural New York.) Hope constantly shifts gears between uproarious and touching, irreverent and heroic. I actually applauded when I finished reading the last page. And then I apologized to my copy of The Diary of Anne Frank.
Favorite lines “It’s a lot easier to stay alive in this world if everyone thinks you’re dead.”
“Hiding from genocide inside a Jew's attic… is like hiding from a lion inside a gazelle.”
10)The Exit Man (by Greg Levin) I know, I’m just as surprised as you are to find my own upcoming book listed among some of the greatest dark comic novels ever written. My parents must be very proud. In case you didn’t already know it, The Exit Man tells the story of a party supply storeowner who leads a secret double life as a euthanasia specialist. Think Dexter meets Dr. Kevorkian.
Favorite lines “Suicide should come with a warning label: ‘Don’t try this alone.’”
“After a year or so of helping people die, I was really starting to reach my full potential as a person.”
[UPDATE: Those of you who are itching to buy The Exit Man (Mom, Dad), I’m afraid you’ll have to wait just a little longer than expected. While the book is 100% written and edited, there have been some slight delays in the production process. So, instead of a late spring release, we’re looking at an early summer one. Sorry to keep you hanging, but I promise it will be worth the wait!]
Just because a person publishes a book or two or even three doesn’t automatically mean that the person is a TRUE writer. And just because a person has never published even a single book doesn’t mean that the person is automatically NOT a true writer.
While it may seem as if everyone today is a writer, a TRUE writer is actually a rather rare breed. A true writer is a highly dedicated and extremely passionate individual who, most importantly, is completely miserable most of the time.
Of course, that’s a bit of an overgeneralization. To find out if you truly are a true writer, read through the following list of traits and characteristics. If you are able to identify with all or most of them, I regret to inform you that you are indeed a true writer.
There are plenty of feel-good quotes intended to inspire writers to fully embrace the craft and to dream and create and succeed.
Boooring.
I prefer quotes like this one from American science fiction writer John Scalzi:
"Engrave this in your brain: EVERY WRITER GETS REJECTED. You will be no different."
I have received my fair share of rejection letters from literary agents and publishers in my time as a writer. When I received my first few (back when I was pitching my debut novel, Notes on an Orange Burial) I became very discouraged and dispirited. After a while, however, I grew thicker skin. I also realized it wasn’t the agents’ and publishers’ fault that they were born without the ability to recognize latent literary brilliance. I just chalked it up to bad genetics. (Theirs, not mine.)
I even started to feel sorry for some of the agencies and publishing houses for lacking the wisdom and foresight to sign me. But I knew my pity wasn’t going to help them. So I decided to start rejecting their rejection letters with a rejection letter of my own.
Since I’m not a complete sociopath with a writing-career death wish, I never actually sent my “Rejection Letter for Rejecting a Rejection Letter” to any agents or publishers. However, I think it would be a lot of fun if you did so the next time you receive a rejection letter. (For those of you who aren’t writers, feel free to pass this post on to your friends or family members who are, or who think they are.)
And without further ado, here it is—the Rejection Letter for Rejecting a Rejection Letter:
Dear (name of agent or publisher),
Thank you very much for your recent rejection notification. Unfortunately, I am unable to accept your rejection at this time. Please understand I receive a high volume of rejection notifications and must be highly selective in choosing those I'm able to handle.
The acceptance of rejection notifications is a highly subjective process. The fact that I have decided to pass on your rejection in no way signifies your rejection is sub-par, and I encourage you to continue rejecting authors’ queries and submissions. Just because I have decided to pass on your rejection doesn’t mean there aren’t numerous other authors who’d be happy to be rejected by you.
I wish you the best of luck in your future rejection endeavors and want to thank you for allowing me to review your work.
Sincerely,
(Your name here. Or a made-up name—to ensure that you have a snowball’s chance in hell of ever having another agent or a publisher even THINK about accepting your manuscript.)
If you liked this post, you can join my mailing list to have all my future “Scrawl Space” blog posts delivered directly to your inbox. (Even if you DIDN’T like this post, I’ll still let you join—I’m open-minded like that.) By joining the list, you’ll also immediately receive a FREE ebook and the first three chapters of my new novel.
I’m often asked “What’s it like being a writer?” by my imaginary friends. My immediate response typically goes something like, “It’s just like any other job, only with more verbs.”
For those of you interested in a more intricate and (slightly) less ridiculous answer, below I describe a typical day in a writer’s life. I’ve opted to write it in second person to give you a real feel for what it’s like to pretend to make a living through the written word.
2:56 a.m. You wake up suddenly with a sense of dread and self-doubt, certain the novel you're working on is the worst thing you've ever written. You wonder why you ever stopped taking your medication.
2:57 a.m. You search the medicine cabinet for your old pills, popping one just for old time's sake. You fall back to sleep.
5:25 a.m. You wake up with a sense of euphoria and delusions of grandeur, certain the novel you're working on is the greatest thing you've ever written. You start planning what you'll wear to the Pen/Faulkner Awards dinner.
5:45 a.m. You go online to shop for your Pen/Faulkner Awards outfit, as 90% of your existing clothes fall into the category of pajamas.
6:30 a.m. You make a green breakfast smoothie containing all the vital nutrients you’ll need to fuel your brain and creativity for the entire two hours you plan on actually working that day. You wash the smoothie remnants down with a shot of vodka. You get the vodka taste out of your mouth by downing a can of Red Bull.
6:41 a.m. You sit down to write, but the Red Bull wants you to take a walk, which you do. You think about how many of the greatest writers used to take morning walks to clear their mind, and you smile at the thought of you being in the same “fraternity” as them. Then you think about how none of the greatest writers ever drank Red Bull, and you bow your head in shame – until the Red Bull picks you back up and reminds you that you are invincible and your novel is brilliant.
7:14 a.m. You sit down to write, and this time you actually start writing. Mostly tweets and Facebook author page updates about how you are a writer who is very busy writing. You take a break from the social media to actually add a couple of new paragraphs to your novel-in-progress.
8:02 a.m. You tweet and facebook about how you just added a couple of new paragraphs to your novel-in-progress.
8:05 am: You go on a hot streak with your novel writing and knock out five new pages… before realizing you already pretty much said everything you’ve just written several weeks earlier in a previous chapter. On top of that, one of the secondary characters you’ve involved in the action died three chapter ago. You delete all five “new” pages and curse yourself for declining your doctor’s offer to write you a prescription for amphetamines.
9:33 a.m. You decide to have another green smoothie to refuel, only this time you skip the actual green parts and go straight to the vodka, and then to the Red Bull, which, you tell yourself, is pretty much the same as amphetamines.
9:40: a.m. You sit down to write again and complete three of the most captivating and majestic pages you've ever written. You’re as lucid as you’ve ever been and your protagonist is fast becoming a highly compelling character who you’re certain will soon be etched in the minds of millions of readers, and who will be beloved for generations. You are in total harmony with your craft. Nothing can stop you now.
10:25 a.m. You stop to check your author page on Facebook to see if you have any new “likes”.
10:26 a.m. You continue working on your novel.
10:27 a.m. You stop to check your author website to see if your latest blog post has any new “likes” or comments.
10:28 a.m. You continue working on your novel.
10:29 a.m. You stop to check your Twitter account to see if your latest tweet about your Facebook author page and your author website got any retweets.
10:30 a.m. You congratulate yourself for your excellent multitasking skills, and then break for an early lunch.
11:20 a.m. You go to the mailbox and find a quarterly royalty check for your last novel.
11:21 a.m. You reenter the house, waving the royalty check ceremoniously above your head. You tell your spouse that you’re taking her/him out to dinner that night – to Chili’s… as long as she/he doesn’t get drinks or dessert.
11:22 a.m. You sit back down to continue working on your novel, but are too discouraged by the pitiful excuse of a royalty check you just received. You begin to wonder what’s the point of all this. You seriously consider scrapping the novel you’re working on and starting a new one about something that will actually sell.
11:55 a.m. You start writing the outline for a book about a post-apocalyptic vampire zombie invasion.
12:05 p.m. You realize you don’t know nearly enough about vampires or zombies or things post apocalyptic. You decide to spend the rest of the day doing research – watching Hulu and Netflix shows/movies covering the aforementioned topics.
7:00 p.m. You ask your spouse if you can just order Chili’s to go so that you can continue with your research, which you do until bedtime.
10:30 p.m. You lay in bed, excited about the huge sales figures your new novel idea could bring in. You convince yourself that you are not abandoning your artistic or literary principles but rather are adapting to the times and paving the way for a successful and lucrative fiction writing career.
10:45 p.m. After 15 minutes of sobbing quietly into your pillow, you fall asleep.