OK, Sminsel – a story about a story that I wrote for you as a Christmas gift
You know when they say that it’s the thought that counts? Yeah, well, I had a thought about writing y’all a short story to wish you Happy Christmas. I discussed it with one of my story advisors (Frank, aged 9) and he liked it well enough, so yesterday I powered through it and churned that sucker out. 2,400 words.
OH. HOLY. NIGHT. IT. SUCKED.
In nearly the first paragraph the concept fell apart. The characters were loathsome. It became ideologically perilous. The sentences themselves were fraught with rusty jagged edges that caught your jumper as you walked past them.
It stank.
I’m currently in the phase of processing this that therapists call “dangerously raw”. I splurged out the details on Twitter, so I’m going to link the tweets in here. This is solely so I don’t have to write the suckiness out again. Anyway, Happy Christmas readers.
I wrote a festive short story as a gift for my readers (technically if these words touch your eyes then I class you as my reader, deal with it.) It's called "OK, Sminsel" and it's just the worst thing ever written. We're talking manifesto-written-pre-murder-spree bad. THREAD…
— Andrew Shanahan (@nervouscrying) December 17, 2019
It details the love story between a man called Dave and some sentient smart tinsel called Sminsel. I think because of the name the Sminsel character ended up being Eastern European. Consequently, it very quickly started to sound like an apologia for sex trafficking.
— Andrew Shanahan (@nervouscrying) December 17, 2019
Dave is lonely and Sminsel talks to him while he does a jigsaw of Disney Princesses. Dave and Sminsel bond until the dramatic peak where she asks him what Twelfth Night is. He explains that it's when all the decorations are put in the loft for the year. Sminsel is frightened.
— Andrew Shanahan (@nervouscrying) December 17, 2019
"I don't want to go in the loft Dave," Sminsel cried.
— Andrew Shanahan (@nervouscrying) December 17, 2019
"You can leave them up but then they have to stay up until Ash Wednesday when they're burned in the fire to make pancakes," Dave explained.
I researched that on Wikipedia so who knows if that's true.
Dave goes to bed and Sminsel moves off the tree. How? I don't fucking know. She's apparently reticulated like a snake, or a worm. She creeps into Dave's room and…AND…curls up on the pillow and goes to sleep. "I didn't want to be lonely," Sminsel, the smart tinsel explains.
— Andrew Shanahan (@nervouscrying) December 17, 2019
"I didn't want to be lonely either," Dave replies.
— Andrew Shanahan (@nervouscrying) December 17, 2019
I'm not going to lie, by now I knew everything about this story was stupid and I considered the possibility that they could have consensual sex. That's right. I wrote a man/tinsel sex scene. Well, they say write what you know.
https://twitter.com/nervouscrying/sta...
You get my honesty. You get this twitter thread explaining that not everything I create will work. You get to see a writer sharing his failures and, in doing so, inspiring you to be free to create and to share too. I also got you a £5 Amazon voucher. Happy Christmas, Sminsel.
— Andrew Shanahan (@nervouscrying) December 17, 2019
A footnote because these things gnaw at me. I thought reticulated meant when a creature is segmented like a worm or snake and it can move through a wave like process of shuffling each segment. I was wrong, I’m not sure that has a name – please let me know if I’m wrong here too. Reticulated is the name of a pattern where a network is created by lines. Think of a python or squinting at the motorway network map. As you were.
