On Gen X childhood, the stories that make us feel seen, and why I’m still trying to write with the reckless freedom of a ten-year-old launching himself over a Schwinn.
There is a photograph of me as a ten-year-old boy jumping over my Schwinn banana-seat bike—or motorcycle, if you prefer.
And in this picture, the bike is perfectly in focus. It’s crisp, it’s clear, you can see the backyard around it. And then I’m just this blur leaping over the bike in my camouflage cargo pants, which my mom probably made for me.
I mean, it’s like straight out of an anime action thing. I’m just, you know, ready to go.
And that photo summarizes—or captures—how I like to write, and it summarizes and captures how I hope you’ll feel when you read my books.
Now, my books run through some different tones and genres and things like that. Sometimes it’s a melodramatic high school story. Sometimes it’s a little more lighthearted high school story. Sometimes it’s a very literary middle-grade sort of voice. Sometimes there are monsters, and sometimes there aren’t monsters, but people are fighting monsters internally and things like that.
But for the most part, I do still write about young people because I have such crystal-clear memories of—and fondness for—my own childhood, despite the horrific things that were also happening at that time.
(And there were horrific things happening. Make no mistake.)
And so when people of my generation talk about the things Gen X had in common as children, we’re not exaggerating. Like, take your favorite piece of season one of Stranger Things. That’s how it was.
And when people from younger cohorts are like, “You didn’t just leave the house and not come back until nighttime.”
Like, yeah. We did.
And then when you got into high school, you just left the house and fuck only knew when you were coming back.
Did my parents ever ask where I was going?
Maybe my mom might’ve asked where I was going. But no matter what I answered, it wasn’t going to stop me from going.
Like: “I’m probably going to Matt’s.”
“What’s going to happen at Matt’s?”
“I don’t know. We’re gonna make this shit up as we go.”
We’re gonna spend half the night at 7-Eleven in the parking lot bitching about the fact that we’re not doing anything.
And that was the point.
Just being there together and bitching about how we weren’t doing anything was a night well spent.
And yeah, we drank from the fucking hose. And yeah, when I was ten, eleven, twelve, I’d get on my bike and just vanish.
I know where I went. I know what I was doing. My parents didn’t know or fucking care.
That’s just how it was.
And I’m not gonna get into an argument or debate about whether that was good or bad, or if my generation was better than yours. That’s not a fight I’m interested in having.
It was just different. And these are just facts. This is how a lot of us grew up.
And if, in something I write, I can give you that sense of jumping over a bike, or getting on your bike and just vanishing for an hour or two hours or six hours or the whole day—if that’s what my stories make you feel—then I’ve done my job.
Because that’s all we’re looking for, really: those stories, those books, short stories, films, short films, theater, you name it, that give us that sense of being seen.
And I hope that when you read my stuff, you will feel seen and you will feel heard and understood and like, Yes. This guy gets it. This character gets it. This story gets it.
That’s what I’m after.
And I’ve noticed over the years—because I have written a lot of books; some of them haven’t even seen the light of day yet—but I have written a ton of books, and the ones people seem to respond to are the ones where I am jumping over that bike.
I’m just like, “Fuck it. Here we go, guys. Hang on.”
And off we go.
Now, is it for everybody? No.
I was thinking of my friend Bernie, who has helped me with some comic book work that I’ve done. (If you’re out there, Bernie, how’s it going, buddy?)
Bernie loves my novel Sick, which is a zombie novel set in high school. And yeah, he’s a big fan of Sick. And then there are other people who are like, “Ugh, Sick. No. I like Party or Zero,” or whatever the book may be.
Cool, man. I write a bunch of different stuff.
So everybody’s welcome.
Everybody. Is. Welcome.
Come on into the couch fort. Let’s climb up into the treehouse. Let’s get on our bikes together and go on an adventure and see where the day takes us.
Regardless of the genre, that’s the experience I want you to have.
For my monster books, I want you to feel like we’re sitting on the floor in front of the couch, slurping up Cap’n Crunch and watching World Beyond, watching Godzilla movies or Trilogy of Terror or whatever.
Or sometimes maybe it’s late at night and we really should probably be asleep, but our parents don’t give a shit, so we’re watching Elvira’s Movie Macabre and all that kind of stuff, man. Or USA Up All Night.
Remember those? I love that stuff, and I love capturing that.
I love the writing and I love the sharing, and I hope you’ll come along for some of that.
So if any of that resonates with you, I think you’re in the right place.
Let’s go get on our bikes, man.
See ya!
