Teeth is my coming of age novel set in the 1990’s pop culture world.

I was just passed 20 when I signed this deal with Simon & Schuster. I have heard that your first novel is like a first bank robbery: mostly you end up all shot up and covered in blood, losing the money in your sloppy getaway. Basically, that was my experience.

I didn’t know it at the time, but I would never have another book professionally published for the rest of my life. The writing was fine. Problem was, I didn’t handle well.

Beyond the delirious freedom of their craft, published novelists live on a tight leash. Talent is managed by agents and editors. They tell you what can sell. That means people tell you what to write. I didn’t like that much. They didn’t like me much, either. On top of that, I wrote recklessly. (As the young should do). Taking on the theme of privilege way ahead of the curve, I pissed off all the Gen X nepo babies and young Hollywood royalty. Those kids play rough.

So Teeth is it. I never got published again. After the initial misery of face planting on my first novel, I appreciated life off the literary leash. Business suited me better. Jobs paid well and left me time to write what I wanted. Had I stayed in the stable of traditional publishing, my process would have been managed by la machine. There would be no Lifted, no Von Von Von and definitely no Chicken 65. Living without these— especially C65— would have left me lost. Writing provided my compass through this place.

I guess being thrown away let me get away. The path I cut was mine. I did what I wanted. It made me happy doing that, and leaves me happy writing that.

Dusted Neil would be proud.