What a joy of a memoir. Bud Smith writes novels and works heavy construction. He's from New Jersey (like me), but has spent a lot more time outside getting his hands dirty, and seen a lot more shit. He writes novels and wrote this memoir in short sessions typing on his phone. His attitude about making art - that it's part of being alive, that more people should do it, that it's an essential part of being weird and feeding your soul - is contagious and inspiring.
The sense of humor is fantastic. I laughed out loud multiple times reading this. And it reinforces the tender moments and traumatic stories. Here's one fun bit:
"I'm gonna write a book about some turtles hanging on that rock…"
"You should," I say
"I can't write no fucking book"
"Why do you say that? Any dumbass can write a book."
This memoir came at a time when I really needed it: my life is changing rapidly after being stable for a few years, and there are big wins and potential losses on the horizon. This book had a quality that I associate with Vonnegut's writing: a matter-of-factness about life that reassures you that there are many valid ways to live, that the full range of possibilities is fine, or survivable, or in the worst case escapable. And Smith manages to make you dream of making art without it being an all-or-nothing proposition, just something that can be part of a life.
I learned about this book from this interview with Noelle Forougi, and maybe that'll inspire you to read it too.
That seems like your attitude. The end beat of your book struck a very hopeful tone of: “just do it and see how it goes.”
Yeah, exactly. I talk to a lot of people who feel so guilty about their output or something, they’re discouraged. There’s many things to discourage anyone who’s artmaking. Number one is probably money. Number two, everyone feels like AI has put the final bullet in things. I can see how it can get a person down, but for me, artmaking is just something I’ve done since I was a little kid, and I will continue to do till I’m in the grave. I don’t care about the money and I don’t care if AI makes my books obsolete. That’s inconsequential. The making is the great reward, the privilege.