Imagine having to grow up that fast, shielding your sister from that when you should be enjoying childhood. Alcohol turns some men into monsters, or maybe they were monsters to begin with and the alcohol just brings it to the surface?
Could have easily read another chapter of that Danger, you do bittersweet situations very well. I especially liked the dialogue between brother and sister.
Thank you, Jon. You know how much it means to me to have my work read. It's an interesting question regarding alcohol, too. I've done some exceptionally dubious things in my life, but the ones I look back on and and shudder the most have involved alcohol. Good to know you wanted more, there's a 700 page manuscript ruining my life that should be out bla bla bla.. Anyway, thanks for spending the time giving it a read and leaving a comment, much appreciated.
Hello Mr Edge - that was kind of you to give it a read. There's a saying about being a writer, I can't remember who said it right now, but it goes, "Writing is Hell. Not writing is Hell. The only tolerable situation is having just written," and I've always identified with the sentiment. But I fell asleep in my chair about an hour ago, woke up, and saw that a comment had been left here, and I'm going to add 'Someone having just read your writing' to the 'tolerable situation,' because it's all I really want, people reading my work. Anyway, thanks for reading it and leaving a comment, much appreciated.
Was a good read with many layers. I appreciate the artform and the painting of pictures in minds.
I've often felt like I should write, but could never justify why or would simply find reasons not to bother. Talking myself out of things is a bad habit, and a tough one to shake off.
Give it a go. "Should" is a bit strange, but if you get a spare hour or two, just start writing. We're all very good at talking ourselves out of things, and then there's the next obstacle of doing them and settling for nothing but perfection, which is the enemy of writing, and probably most things, maybe not space travel, I guess you've got to get that right on the nose. Anyway, nothing to lose by giving it a go. Nothing's set in stone, if you don't like it, only you've seen it, you'll know if you want to put the work in after that.
I tried to make room for that, interestingly. There's no defending that sort of behaviour, but who knows what happened to him on the way, and whatever he's doing to cope is certainly not working. Good call.
The short stories from Dangerfield are always such a treat.
Granted I have to be in the mood and I sometimes let them build up and when I have a quiet afternoon I dive in.
His stories flow from the hilarious to the terrifying. This story alone he perfectly captutures the build up of adrenaline when someone keeps pushimg their luck and the internal battle of wanted to unload on the bully and the unbearable reality of the cards being stacked against you and you're powerless. (And the bully knows it)
Dangerfield speckles details through the narrative as he weaves sentences together like David Foster Wallace making the mental picture. You can practically smell the smoke in the room.
He writes with the unsettling dreaminess of Dennis Johnson and the wacky brutality of Bukowski without the pretentious try hardness of so many other writers.
Oh gosh - nice one Joe. DFW, Bukowski and Dennis Johnson all in one comment. It was reading Bukowski's Post Office that made me think I could perhaps be a writer. One of the first books I read volountarily after my state comp did a pretty good job of making me despise literature, intentionally of course, state schooling was designed to make workers, not thinkers, but his simplistic, strangely innocent way of storytelling (especially considering the content) appealed to me. It read like me telling stories in the boozer. Then DFW at the other end of the spectrum (I'm making a video about him on my YouYube channel as there's some insane and blatantaly sexist 'Lit-Bros' thing going on due to the fymynysts effervescent envy over DFW's success, and rumours he wasn't the perfect man in real life. Who gives a shit. He's not my mate, they're books. And then of course, Dennis Johnson kind of stands between the two.
Thank you for some very kind words, which are always encouraging. I don't want to be famous, I don't expect to get rich from my work, I just want people to at least give it a go, and when they like it, it means the world to me, so really - thank you.
Kin ell, bruv! That was a tough one to get through - really cut to the bone. My old man - bless him - was never anywhere near as much of a piece of shit as that guy - another great one!
Hello John. I was just thinking last night it might be time to do a funny short on here. There's been a run of very unpleasant tales. But the truth be told I don't really get a choice. I sit down and from then it's largely out of my control. Thanks for giving it a read and leaving a comment. Substack has proved itself to be very rewarding, because as you know, only my editor has read the manuscript that's now about eight years in the scrawling. Anyway, thanks again, John. Enjoy your weekend my friend.
This was emotive content. I have not grown up in a domestic violence and alcohol riddled home but know people who have. The description of the dad brought the images of the muck, grot, and misery of the alcoholic lifestyle clearly into my mind. Well done. I would read more articles like this.
Thank you Adam, for giving it a go. My writing is not for everyone, which is a good thing. I won't indulge in boring you with my process, but what's always struck me in these kinds of situations is the coexistence of both parties. Not how long they last, but the utterly convincing emotions of everyone involved. There's some incredible strength out there. Best wishes.
Hey Liz - apparently someone read (or subbed?) on the back of you sharing one of my stories, so thank you for that. Regarding different direction, yes, I just got fed up with quotation marks and thought, fuck it, people know who's talking. Thanks for your continued support, you always seem to get a comment in early. It means a lot to me.
"I don't like the way you talk to mum" was how it kicked off, in my father's most recent attempt at a family life. I heard about it from my sister, having had nothing to do with him for a good few years. Apparently my youngest step brother, then about 18, punched my dad to the ground and then choked him unconscious.
I met up with the young man a couple of years later, told him that I'd heard all about the incident and had been very keen to reassure him that it was the best thing he could have done and how proud I was of him.
As soon as I started reading this one, Chris, I worried it could be a bit obvious as I was too easily moved by the young girl. Probably a personal reaction as I really struggle with just the thought of little kids being subjected to any mean spirit. But, I thought it was very well handled. Daniel, a hero in waiting.
The balance of this bleak day with the sense that, as even mum knew, he'd get what's coming to him, made for a satisfying read.
I thought the focus on the details of the dolls table, the foil, the cake, their delicate arrangements did well to bring you into the tiny, skippy worlds children play with. Bless them
I had a friend, he's dead now. He was a gangster. A very strange friendship, but also very profound. An unlikely friendship. I really miss him. One day I'd like to write about him. A novella perhaps. He knew he didn't have to play the character around me and it seemed like a relief for him. Anyway, apologies, migrained off for a few days, so excuse my wandering. He told me about his father's treatment of him and his mother when he was young, but unlucky (or lucky?) for Dad, he grew into a fearless brick sh*thouse, and at about fourteen he smashed him to bits and the old man never dared again.
Yet again you make some very important aspects. It would have bee predictable for Daniel to properly put him in his place, he had the intention, but not the ability. 'A hero in waiting' is a great sense of character. And the girl, clearly not oblivious, finding distraction in the most simple things. Yes, bless them. Nice one, Ludwig, thanks for your time and honesty. Sorry to hear about your family situation. When they work, they're everything, and when they don't they are also everything. a one sided coin, perhaps?
Like the comment by Joe Denby above, I often put aside a Dangerfield substack for reading at a later date so as to be in the optimum mood to give it the attention and appreciation it invariably deserves, as they always provide much more than they offer on the surface.
This is another Dangerfield classic.
We are thrust directly into a festive domestic vignette and within a few sentences we are not only introduced to the characters and their motivations but become emotionally engaged with their situation as a growing sense of dread creeps in. The bleak and increasingly menacing unease projected by the adults is countered by the determined innocent optimism of the daughter and the growing protectiveness of her older brother. We are unnerved but ultimately hopeful that the dysfunction of the grown ups may not be passed on to the children.
The above plot synopsis may be obvious, but the writing skill displayed is its brevity. In a few short sentences we are there in the room, with characters we feel we know and instinctively understand and quickly become emotionally invested in what happens to them.
This is good writing. No waffle, no flowery descriptiveness, no elaborate unnecessary dialogue required, and it still grabs you by 'the feels' at warp speed.
As I said in the beginning I kept this for when I could relax and enjoy the read. I sat in my chair poured a generous whiskey and opened the piece.
Two things happened. A painful nostalgia engulfed me, triggered by the wonderfully accurate description of the unbridled glee of the little girl at her brothers wordplay, echoing my own joy at my daughters delight at our own version of their game when she was little.
I'm not ashamed to say it brought a tear to my eye.
And secondly, the father in the story put me right off my whiskey.
Ironically it took me a long comment to praise your brevity ....lol...Good writing Chris. Magical even.
Hello mate. Ironically, considering wwhat you just said, it's hard to put into words what it means to me to read your comment. The time and attention you gave to my writing. I don't care for fame, or money (well, enough of the later to get by) but to have people read my work, give it time, invest their emotions into it - it means more to me than pretty much everything else. I get an odd feeling when writing, whether it's shorts or my novel, that there's a fair chance it could be very bad, lol. I mean, I think that's a fair concern. And I know it's not for everyone (that would be very upsetting - that's got to be the ultimate writer's curse - everyone liking your work! Just thinking about it gives me the shivers. But succeeding in teasing emotions and identifications from the reader, as you described, well, I can only repeat what I alredy said, it's hard to put into words what your comment means to me, but trust me, it's a lot. A real lot. Thank you.
Thank you. And yes, ha ha. These things aren't easy. Well, not quick, in the case of this one. But at least I can say with some certainty it will not be worth the wait. Best wishes.
Alright Chris, reminds me of Irvine Welsh style, another quality product from Dangerfield
Nice one Steve. If I get a fraction of the readers he's had over the years I'll be happy. Thanks for giving it a go, much appreciated.
Imagine having to grow up that fast, shielding your sister from that when you should be enjoying childhood. Alcohol turns some men into monsters, or maybe they were monsters to begin with and the alcohol just brings it to the surface?
Could have easily read another chapter of that Danger, you do bittersweet situations very well. I especially liked the dialogue between brother and sister.
Thank you, Jon. You know how much it means to me to have my work read. It's an interesting question regarding alcohol, too. I've done some exceptionally dubious things in my life, but the ones I look back on and and shudder the most have involved alcohol. Good to know you wanted more, there's a 700 page manuscript ruining my life that should be out bla bla bla.. Anyway, thanks for spending the time giving it a read and leaving a comment, much appreciated.
Oh, that was dark!
Hello Mr Edge - that was kind of you to give it a read. There's a saying about being a writer, I can't remember who said it right now, but it goes, "Writing is Hell. Not writing is Hell. The only tolerable situation is having just written," and I've always identified with the sentiment. But I fell asleep in my chair about an hour ago, woke up, and saw that a comment had been left here, and I'm going to add 'Someone having just read your writing' to the 'tolerable situation,' because it's all I really want, people reading my work. Anyway, thanks for reading it and leaving a comment, much appreciated.
Was a good read with many layers. I appreciate the artform and the painting of pictures in minds.
I've often felt like I should write, but could never justify why or would simply find reasons not to bother. Talking myself out of things is a bad habit, and a tough one to shake off.
Give it a go. "Should" is a bit strange, but if you get a spare hour or two, just start writing. We're all very good at talking ourselves out of things, and then there's the next obstacle of doing them and settling for nothing but perfection, which is the enemy of writing, and probably most things, maybe not space travel, I guess you've got to get that right on the nose. Anyway, nothing to lose by giving it a go. Nothing's set in stone, if you don't like it, only you've seen it, you'll know if you want to put the work in after that.
I wonder how many feel pity for the Dad?
I tried to make room for that, interestingly. There's no defending that sort of behaviour, but who knows what happened to him on the way, and whatever he's doing to cope is certainly not working. Good call.
The short stories from Dangerfield are always such a treat.
Granted I have to be in the mood and I sometimes let them build up and when I have a quiet afternoon I dive in.
His stories flow from the hilarious to the terrifying. This story alone he perfectly captutures the build up of adrenaline when someone keeps pushimg their luck and the internal battle of wanted to unload on the bully and the unbearable reality of the cards being stacked against you and you're powerless. (And the bully knows it)
Dangerfield speckles details through the narrative as he weaves sentences together like David Foster Wallace making the mental picture. You can practically smell the smoke in the room.
He writes with the unsettling dreaminess of Dennis Johnson and the wacky brutality of Bukowski without the pretentious try hardness of so many other writers.
Dangerfield doesn't try, he just is.
Oh gosh - nice one Joe. DFW, Bukowski and Dennis Johnson all in one comment. It was reading Bukowski's Post Office that made me think I could perhaps be a writer. One of the first books I read volountarily after my state comp did a pretty good job of making me despise literature, intentionally of course, state schooling was designed to make workers, not thinkers, but his simplistic, strangely innocent way of storytelling (especially considering the content) appealed to me. It read like me telling stories in the boozer. Then DFW at the other end of the spectrum (I'm making a video about him on my YouYube channel as there's some insane and blatantaly sexist 'Lit-Bros' thing going on due to the fymynysts effervescent envy over DFW's success, and rumours he wasn't the perfect man in real life. Who gives a shit. He's not my mate, they're books. And then of course, Dennis Johnson kind of stands between the two.
Thank you for some very kind words, which are always encouraging. I don't want to be famous, I don't expect to get rich from my work, I just want people to at least give it a go, and when they like it, it means the world to me, so really - thank you.
Kin ell, bruv! That was a tough one to get through - really cut to the bone. My old man - bless him - was never anywhere near as much of a piece of shit as that guy - another great one!
Hello John. I was just thinking last night it might be time to do a funny short on here. There's been a run of very unpleasant tales. But the truth be told I don't really get a choice. I sit down and from then it's largely out of my control. Thanks for giving it a read and leaving a comment. Substack has proved itself to be very rewarding, because as you know, only my editor has read the manuscript that's now about eight years in the scrawling. Anyway, thanks again, John. Enjoy your weekend my friend.
This was emotive content. I have not grown up in a domestic violence and alcohol riddled home but know people who have. The description of the dad brought the images of the muck, grot, and misery of the alcoholic lifestyle clearly into my mind. Well done. I would read more articles like this.
Thank you Adam, for giving it a go. My writing is not for everyone, which is a good thing. I won't indulge in boring you with my process, but what's always struck me in these kinds of situations is the coexistence of both parties. Not how long they last, but the utterly convincing emotions of everyone involved. There's some incredible strength out there. Best wishes.
Well early today,Uncle Terry will turn up one day,fair doos on the different direction excellent 👍
Hey Liz - apparently someone read (or subbed?) on the back of you sharing one of my stories, so thank you for that. Regarding different direction, yes, I just got fed up with quotation marks and thought, fuck it, people know who's talking. Thanks for your continued support, you always seem to get a comment in early. It means a lot to me.
"I don't like the way you talk to mum" was how it kicked off, in my father's most recent attempt at a family life. I heard about it from my sister, having had nothing to do with him for a good few years. Apparently my youngest step brother, then about 18, punched my dad to the ground and then choked him unconscious.
I met up with the young man a couple of years later, told him that I'd heard all about the incident and had been very keen to reassure him that it was the best thing he could have done and how proud I was of him.
As soon as I started reading this one, Chris, I worried it could be a bit obvious as I was too easily moved by the young girl. Probably a personal reaction as I really struggle with just the thought of little kids being subjected to any mean spirit. But, I thought it was very well handled. Daniel, a hero in waiting.
The balance of this bleak day with the sense that, as even mum knew, he'd get what's coming to him, made for a satisfying read.
I thought the focus on the details of the dolls table, the foil, the cake, their delicate arrangements did well to bring you into the tiny, skippy worlds children play with. Bless them
I had a friend, he's dead now. He was a gangster. A very strange friendship, but also very profound. An unlikely friendship. I really miss him. One day I'd like to write about him. A novella perhaps. He knew he didn't have to play the character around me and it seemed like a relief for him. Anyway, apologies, migrained off for a few days, so excuse my wandering. He told me about his father's treatment of him and his mother when he was young, but unlucky (or lucky?) for Dad, he grew into a fearless brick sh*thouse, and at about fourteen he smashed him to bits and the old man never dared again.
Yet again you make some very important aspects. It would have bee predictable for Daniel to properly put him in his place, he had the intention, but not the ability. 'A hero in waiting' is a great sense of character. And the girl, clearly not oblivious, finding distraction in the most simple things. Yes, bless them. Nice one, Ludwig, thanks for your time and honesty. Sorry to hear about your family situation. When they work, they're everything, and when they don't they are also everything. a one sided coin, perhaps?
Like the comment by Joe Denby above, I often put aside a Dangerfield substack for reading at a later date so as to be in the optimum mood to give it the attention and appreciation it invariably deserves, as they always provide much more than they offer on the surface.
This is another Dangerfield classic.
We are thrust directly into a festive domestic vignette and within a few sentences we are not only introduced to the characters and their motivations but become emotionally engaged with their situation as a growing sense of dread creeps in. The bleak and increasingly menacing unease projected by the adults is countered by the determined innocent optimism of the daughter and the growing protectiveness of her older brother. We are unnerved but ultimately hopeful that the dysfunction of the grown ups may not be passed on to the children.
The above plot synopsis may be obvious, but the writing skill displayed is its brevity. In a few short sentences we are there in the room, with characters we feel we know and instinctively understand and quickly become emotionally invested in what happens to them.
This is good writing. No waffle, no flowery descriptiveness, no elaborate unnecessary dialogue required, and it still grabs you by 'the feels' at warp speed.
As I said in the beginning I kept this for when I could relax and enjoy the read. I sat in my chair poured a generous whiskey and opened the piece.
Two things happened. A painful nostalgia engulfed me, triggered by the wonderfully accurate description of the unbridled glee of the little girl at her brothers wordplay, echoing my own joy at my daughters delight at our own version of their game when she was little.
I'm not ashamed to say it brought a tear to my eye.
And secondly, the father in the story put me right off my whiskey.
Ironically it took me a long comment to praise your brevity ....lol...Good writing Chris. Magical even.
Hello mate. Ironically, considering wwhat you just said, it's hard to put into words what it means to me to read your comment. The time and attention you gave to my writing. I don't care for fame, or money (well, enough of the later to get by) but to have people read my work, give it time, invest their emotions into it - it means more to me than pretty much everything else. I get an odd feeling when writing, whether it's shorts or my novel, that there's a fair chance it could be very bad, lol. I mean, I think that's a fair concern. And I know it's not for everyone (that would be very upsetting - that's got to be the ultimate writer's curse - everyone liking your work! Just thinking about it gives me the shivers. But succeeding in teasing emotions and identifications from the reader, as you described, well, I can only repeat what I alredy said, it's hard to put into words what your comment means to me, but trust me, it's a lot. A real lot. Thank you.
You're welcome Chris. You have real talent mate.
Have you considered writing a novel? 😋
Thank you. And yes, ha ha. These things aren't easy. Well, not quick, in the case of this one. But at least I can say with some certainty it will not be worth the wait. Best wishes.