Monthly Archives: September 2013

Every Word Here belongs to Someone Else

(an older poem of mine that is currently going through the revision train)


She is the one who texted me one night to say that she thought she might be dying.

She kept dreaming of a city built of soda cans and

popsicle sticks. She dreamt she was in love with a man who had

bottle caps for eyes. She dreamt that I wrote the epitaph

for her gravestone but I wrote it in some dead tongue that no one

cared enough to translate. She told me that she woke up angry with

me and I apologized for the dream-me; it had sounded like something

I might do in another life.

She’s the one whose car flipped twice across an icy road.

She always hated the cold .She was alone

on the coldest night of the year. She’s the one that they found with the

blood on her hair turned to ice. She couldn’t have felt her blood

stop pumping. She must have been so pale out there waiting to

be discovered. She’s the one in the ground. She is under my feet.

She has an epitaph picked out by someone. She’s alone and I

can’t read the words. She seems so far away carved

into stone.




*****And this feels like a good spot to remind everyone that everything on this site is Copyright CNC0. Reprint without permission, in whole or in part, will be frowned upon most sternly.


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ean weslynn: the interview

Dear Readers,

Here at Pints and Cupcakes, I like to think that all great artists should gain as wide an audience as possible. In that spirit, I am inaugurating a new post. Every month or so, I plan to feature an interview with an EBCP (Extremely Brilliant Creative Person). I hope you all enjoy this new segment on your favorite blog (I’m your favorite, right? Right? Guys??).

For my first ever EBCP interview, I have chosen the wonderful and insanely talented ean weslynn. I met ean weslynn (he’s a fan of no all-caps in his name and so I’m respecting that throughout) quite a few years ago now. I met him through his writing and was insanely impressed with his storytelling skills. I came to know him on a more personal level and was just insanely impressed all around. He’s hilarious, wildly intelligent, and so imaginative in his works that basically I just want to listen to him talking about his work around the clock (and, usually, with writers that is NOT the case, let me tell you). So, here Dear Readers, is a small glimpse into the mind of AWESOME.

Ean photo yes, he is in a onesie and on-set.

1.)     When did you begin writing? And why?

I’m gonna start this out sounding pretentious but even though I didn’t start writing until later in life, I was always a storyteller.

From a young age I knew that I liked making people laugh but it wasn’t until I was well into my twenties that I realized I could do it while not in the room.

2.)     Describe how you approach an idea for something you’re going to write

Ideas are as common as they are fleeting.  Normally when I have an idea I write it down (thank god for the notes app) and then promptly forget about it.  I try to go through my note app once a week by emailing myself the note, bullet point it and then use it as an action list. I go down the line and implement edits, flesh out story concepts or whatever the note may be.

This works well when I have time to work but I’m not sure what to start with.

3.)     You’re currently working on some screenplays…tell me everything about that process and also what you’re working on

I’m currently working on a few things.  A short. A web series. A feature. A TV pilot. A PSA and another web series, cause why the hell not?

Each process is different.  Most were my ideas; some were not.

For instance, the short is a collaboration.  My producing partner’s idea that we developed together and then I went off and wrote it by myself.

The web series was a one-off idea that people seemed excited about so I spent some time with it.

The feature became a feature when the story I was writing was too short for a TV series concept but too necessary not to write.

The TV pilot was the inevitability of my time as a novelist.

The PSA was the result of a drunken pool-side conversation with an acquaintance.

And the other web series is something that just kept coming back up in my head.

But once I start writing it’s always the same process: write it.  Print it out.  Edit with pen and Sharpie.  Put in the edits.  Print it out.  And if it’s in bad shape I type the whole thing back in to promote scene cohesiveness.

4.)     When I first met you, you were working on a novel/ series called The Freshman 15. Can you tell me about that project and where it stands now?

Writing a novel was a great experience because it made me realize I’m not a novel writer.  As I wrote the prose for Freshman 15 I found myself writing it as if it were a TV show.  After self-pubbing the book on amazon and then reflecting upon the experience it made me realize that the entire time the story itself wanted to be a TV show, I was just not in a place to see it yet.

5.)    I had the delight of reading some extremely funny and smart short scripts you’ve written for a potential web series (Day Drunk Gays). Would you describe this (as you’ll do it way better than I will)?

Four gay guys + infinity mimosas + camera = why hasn’t someone else already done this?

6.)    What got you interested in working more on screenwriting than on novelling?

When you tell someone that you are a writer, they will inevitably tell you about how they wish they could be a writer, and then they will go into great detail about their great idea that you should totally write for them.  A little while later, they will ask you who some of your favorite writers are.  This question always embarrassed me because my favorite writers are TV writers.  Joss Whedon, Carter Bays and Craig Thomas, Jane Espenson, David X Cohen just to name a few.

7.)    You have done some producing…What was that like?

It was funny, I fell bass-ackward into producing, it wasn’t my initial goal because honestly I didn’t know what it entailed.  It wasn’t until I was on set for my first production assistant job when a producer turned to me and said ‘you are a producer.’

My nosiness, along with my ADD and my desire to have my fingers in multiple pies means I’m a natural.

I have learned a few things though for those who aren’t sure what a producer does. A producer does whatever they can to help everyone else do what they do.

In short, producers make shit happen.

8.)    Ideal shows you’d love to work on, projects you’d like to be involved with, etc

Sadly, the one show I would have loved to been a part of was canceled shortly after I moved to LA.  For those of you who haven’t seen ‘happy endings’ please do so immediately.  It is a great show full of manic comedy and great characters that are easy to relate to.

9.)    You’re also getting into acting…Where/when/ why did you discover that as a passion?

In truth, I’ve always been a performer.  Singing in church from the age of three until I was smart enough not to be down with church anymore (around 9) but luckily that was the time I could join the school choir (save the arts!)

Musical and show choir dominated my high school career, but when I matriculated at UW-Madison I decided I no longer wanted to be on the stage.  I wanted to be normal.  Something I share in common with the protag in the Freshman Fifteen.  But as is always the case, those born into the spotlight can’t stay behind the curtain for long.

That makes me sound up myself, but in reality, I got back into acting for a selfish reason, just not the one you’d think.

If I act in the things I write, that’s one less person to have to deal with, plain and simple.  I know how it’s supposed to sound, feel and I don’t like having the option of blaming someone else.

10.) Thing you think every writer should know

I’m not good at being brief, so i have a few things that every writer will find out in their own time:

1) Writers write.  

2) Writing is actually rewriting.  No, actually, rewriting is writing, yeah, that’s it.

3) If you don’t enjoy writing it, no one will enjoy reading it.

4) There’s no such thing as writer’s block. 

This one needs a little explanation:  I’ve found that if I can’t write about what I want to write, it’s because there’s something else I need to write.

So I write whatever is going on in my head.  I just get it out. Sometimes it’s personal stuff, other times it’s a new idea I’m more excited about.  Sometimes it’s my brain’s way of telling me that there’s something wrong with the scene: a character missing, a plot point, or something more fundamental like motivations.  But I never know until I write it out.

11.) Thing you’d most like people to get out of your work

Catharsis. Be it laughter or crying.  Preferably a mixture a both.  My favorite moments of narrative are where they are so honest, so primal that you lose control of your body.

12.)  Writer you’d most like to meet.

Joss Whedon.  He has not only inspired me, he’s inspired other writers that inspire me.  His dialogue is so totally his own, I hope that one day people will be able to tell something I wrote simply by hearing the characters talk.

13.) TV show you could imagine living in

This one goes back up to Happy Endings.  But if it has to be a current TV show…True Blood.  I loves me some True Blood.

14.) what is coming up next for the world of Ean Weslynn?

ean weslynn is going to have a nap and zen fire zee missiles.

15.)  the most difficult thing you find about writing in ten words or less.

Making sure what’s in my mind gets on the page.

Bio: ean is a writer, actor, producer and all around human being living in LA.  he’s single (for good reason) unavailable guys to the front of the line.  (oh this isn’t a dating profile is it?)

To contact ean with questions about his work:

For more on ean weslynn and to become even more of a fan of his insanely brilliant awesomeness:

Twitter: @eanweslynn

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How then the monster

to the land

to the sky

to the sea

You used to say the river’s

eyes were closed, could not

watch from the stones, could

not see the way that hands

were used.

Out of water came

the nothing, the all,

the some.

You used to say the ocean

would rock the shore

to sleep, sleep was where

the nightmares came,

came in waves of shapes

of waves..

How then the monster

to the land

to the sky

to the sea

How then?

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Like another way of saying ellipsis

(this is an old poem of mine I have uncovered…. Enjoy, Dear Reader, this blast from Cupcake’s past)

It starts with a joke, a half memory of an idea

for a film in which Hobbits reenact Die Hard.

This inevitably leads to a thought of the One

Ring spinning through the air; a plummeting arc

of flashing metal and this reminds me of the way

mirrors in sunlight sent patterns across the face of

Dorothy Gale that time she tried to help Ozma

out; the moment of her hands entering the silvered glass

and the girl who stepped through.

Its reflections now that make me wonder; I’ve

always liked the way that in water they can ripple

and a tossed pebble can break apart a face.

There was all that time spent by Lake

Superior where I tried to learn how to skip stones;

I never managed to get the perfect flick of the wrist

down and so, inevitably, my stones would just arc

and then plunge. The stones would never

walk on water for me. Then there’s that lizard,

the ones who dashes across water, the one

who moves faster than the effect of his weight.

Lizards lead me to Godzilla; I imagine him

sometimes when he first finds a city. It must have

looked so startling; the endless lights of the buildings

seeming so much like stars pulled down to our level.

And stars? I’ve never seen one shooting across the sky;

a fact that seems unbelievable for all of the time

I’ve spent watching the sky. That seems like

something only a person in a poem would

have ever not experienced.

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Some Other Siren


When you were young

you said the world

was a boat.

You could hear it creaking—

the aching of the beams.


The sky the sea.


When you were young

you broke your fingers

under the piano lid.

You could hear it afterwards—

music scarring your bones.


The notes the fracture.


When you were young

you hid for years

under water.

You could hear it rushing—

the future was a wave.


The crash the dream.


When you were young

you disappeared

tiny pieces at a time.

You could hear the leaving—

one breath after another.


The sea the sky.

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Fungi Hates Tillage

Fungi likes the earth to be thread

the skeins unraveled out

and out across land

and fungi does understand

the need

for crops, for food, for

the turning turning

over of the dirt, the turning of that sun-

warmed soil. Fungi still

likes crumbs, likes rich, likes

the dark that will stain

fingernails. The compact,

the empty, the threadless

reminds fungi of loss

in the labyrinth. How,

how does one find

their steps back

without that ball of string?

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Never Fade the Spirits Elect

Tell everyone you have ever met that you will never find the things you have lost. Tell them about the time you lost the color from your eyes, how it drained out one night and stained your pillowcase. You had been dreaming again about Mars, about exploration, about maps that no one could ever read. Tell them about the places you have lost, the ones you knew as a child which have since slipped off of maps. There was that lake that is gone now and when you drove past it, there were trees that must have been growing for years upon years upon years. You can’t tell where the loss ends and the map begins.

Tell everyone you will ever meet about how you believe in 27 things but that those things are constantly in flux. You believe one day that the ghosts outside your bedroom door are telling stories about the end of the world. You believe there are no such thing as ghosts. You believe the stories are actually about the first time the ghosts fell in love. You believe that the end of the world is the same as love. You believe every story you have ever overheard.

Tell everyone you will never meet that there are some things you will never be able to explain: the color of someone’s eyes, the sound of voices in the hallway and how they felt as soothing to you as warm tea, the look upon faces when you pass them riding in a bus going in the opposite direction, how people can look so beautiful when you only see them for a moment, how everyone’s story makes you want to simultaneously laugh and weep.

Tell someone, anyone, everyone, what you meant when you said that you wanted to love the world more even than the things you lost.

(title is stolen from Milton)

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