Throwback Thursday: An Open Letter To Nicholas Sparks

Hi everyone! This is an old post I wrote for MamaPop, but I am literally falling apart at the seams and need some time for new content. Please to enjoy.
I am going to get vicious hatemail for this, but I simply cannot stay silent any longer. It’s time for an intervention, and I happen to be RILLY good at those. Nicholas Sparks? It’s time to put down the pen.

Dear Nick:Can I call you Nick? I feel close to you, Nick, and there is something I have to say to you as a fellow scribe, certainly not one of your fame and fortune, but one who also puts pen to paper to entertain the masses. Nick? It’s time to stop writing. Your newest book to be made into a movie, The Last Song, opens this week, and the commercial alone was so cloying, so overly saccharine, that I now have three new cavities. I don’t have dental insurance, Nick.
It’s not that you’re a bad person, Nick. It’s that you’ve made some very poor choices in the genre you have chosen in the literary field. You make girls and women weep hysterically and men crawl under the movie theater seats. You give the women you create mystery diseases and have them die beautifully, which, hey, I’m as big a fan of Wuthering Heights as the next lassie, but what you do is not great literature. It’s simplistic writing that does not embrace the reader, but demeans them. And the movies are even worse…Nick, they’re ALL going to be movies, aren’t they? Wonderful. Gak. What you write is trite, cloyingly sweet GARBAGE and you make millions off of it. I am, frankly, shocked that you have not been attacked by a horde of the heterosexual male partners of your female fans, since they are the ones who must endure the waxing and heavy sobs of their girlfriends and wives as you grip them so tightly in your claws of predictable, cliché, self-satisfying tripe.Listen. I watch bad movies. I love a good romance. But you seem hell (sorry, “heck”) bent on insulting your readers by giving them cookie-cutter tragic romances over and over and over again instead of stepping a tiny bit away from your box and trying something a little deeper,or developing your characters a bit more than this shit (sorry! “stuff”) you could find in any 14-year-old girl’s imagination diary she’s writing about that boy in Geometry class. It all makes me just a little ill

So please, Nick, put down the pen. Step away from the computer. You’ve made your fortune, and this weekend women will drag their partners to the theaters to see Miley Cyrus fall in fated love just like all your other “heroines” who all lack a spine and a brainstem, (but have a heart of gold!) and we’ll all learn a Very Important Lesson about love, and you’ll laugh your ass off all the way to the bank. AGAIN.

I’m not doing this to be an asshole (SORRY! “meanie”) to you as a person and a fellow writer, Nick. I’m doing this because you OBVIOUSLY have writing talent, I mean, you’ve published and made a fortune off this stuff. But you’re not doing feminism any good and, seriously, the poor regular dudes and women who have to endure these for their significant others? They’re going to come at you with pitchforks someday, man.

I’m doing this out of a caring, warm place in my heart, Nick. Take up auto-repair or something and write about that. You’ve exhausted your chosen genre

Quick story, and then I’m done, I swear. When I was in rehab, a dvd of The Notebook was played in our common room over and over and over until there was ANARCHY and someone threatened to drink drain cleaner. Luckily, one of the more physically violent patients smashed the dvd into a bazillion pieces. Man, we were lucky the gate had a padlock on it, because that flick will send someone into the deepest, darkest streets to score any junk that will erase that crap from his or her brain.

Saying this with love and respect as a fellow writer,

Cut the shit.

Miss Banshee

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