Crumb on Writing

I recently watched the documentary "Crumb." Robert Crumb was a cartoonist, and quite a few writing craft type moments stood out that I'll share here.

(Spoilers, if you'd rather watch the documentary.)

He was discussing craft with his son, who is also a cartoonist, and his son said something about Robert being rich and famous. HIs dad said, "We're not talking about becoming rich and famous. We're talking about learning to draw."

They also discussed portraits. And his dad told his son to go ahead and cheat a little. They were drawing from photographs and the dad pointed out a slight sneer in the picture and told his son to make the sneer just a little more pronounced in the drawing than it was in the photo. To make the sneer more clear to whoever was viewing the drawing. "Go ahead, cheat a little."

Then he didn't drive, so one time he had a friend drive him around and he took photos of things like power boxes on the sides of buildings telephone lines. Then they showed the photos alongside his cartoons where he recreated them. "See how ugly that is? You can't make that up." He called that photo album his most valuable resource.

He had an older brother Charles, who was also a cartoonist. But he was mentally ill. He became obsessed with writing, to the point where he would not even write words but fill notebooks with wavy lines. It was interesting to compare the two. Robert, who was as eccentric as could be, but managed to still function as an artist. Robert did his own thing, no question, but he continued to do a thing people would at least have a chance to relate to. Charles, due to his mental illness, lost any touch with any possible audience. Charles was extreme, but it made me reflect on where that line is. An artist can create work so easily digestible by the mainstream that some would refuse to call it art any longer. But here, with Charles, was an example of an artist going to such an extreme of not relating to an audience that I don't think anyone could call it art any longer.

Interesting movie, if you haven't seen it, I recommend it. If you have, what were your thoughts?

Courting Her, another fav moment

(Kimberly and Alex call oral sex a princess kiss. I think it becomes clear what a special one is in the excerpt.)


Kimberly propped her head up and met Alex's gaze that had been on her for several quiet minutes. "I want a special princess kiss."

"What's that?"

"It's like a princess kiss, but in a special place."

"Where?"

"I think you know where." She stared hard into his eyes.

Alex lowered his. "Really?"

"Yes, really," she said, as Alex had made the mistake of revealing trepidation. "Your nose has been there. Is a tongue so much worse?"

"Why?"

"Why?" She lay back and looked to the ceiling. "Because it would a wonderful way to be loved and accepted, for one thing. Because it would feel good, for another. Because I want you to think, every time you look at me, that you do that for me."

"I already think, every time I look at you, that you spank me whenever you want, and that I give you regular princess kisses whenever you want."

"Good. This will be another thing, just like that."

Kimberly coming at the moon

(Quick Set-up: After being informed by Kimberly she wants to commemorate their first night in their newly purchased home by denying him permission to come, Alex invites her out of the bedroom and into the living room.)

Alex lay on his back with his head under the window frame, and his legs sprawled out perpendicular. His suffering that leaked from the tip of Cute Thing was an incandescent yellow.

"You can look into the moon during," Alex said.

"It's too light."

"What, are you shy?"

Kimberly scowled. Despite the light of the moon, open windows across the street appeared as black holes. Maybe the dark would hide her. On bent knees, she crossed the room, knelt over Alex's face, and ducked as far as she could under the window sill. "All our new neighbors are going to see my boobs." Kimberly giggled.

Alex didn't respond as his mouth was occupied.

At first, Kimberly kept her nipples concealed with her arm, but her sense of modesty dwindled as Alex performed under her. She pressed her hands against the glass and looked up at the half-moon. Its light drizzled, landing in her yard, where the nuanced green of her lawn shimmered as her body responded to the attentions from her prince. She looked down, where Alex--the rest of his face contorted with the effort of his task--blinked back with placid eyes. She ran her hand through his hair, then looked back up into the sky, gripped the window sill, and bucked hard until she came.

An Excerpt from the novel Courting Her by Gregory Allen, published by Pink Flamingo, available in paperback and as an Ebook. Thank you for reading!