Gabe Delahaye

So, I wrote a novel. This is a long time ago, I did this. In 2002-2003, not really knowing what to do with myself, I sort of stumbled my way back into school. Whoops! The only thing worse than someone who takes on massive amounts of debt in order to pursue a degree they’re not even sure they need or want is someone who fancies themselves a writer, so I was really killing it back then. For the record, I think that the University of Chicago is one of the most uncomfortable places on Earth. Just a bastion of pretentious jerks in buildings that look like actual CASTLES, who’ve probably never even seen an episode of The Bachelor in their LIFE. And, of course, surrounding the horrible “oasis” of the campus are some of the most impoverished, ghettoized neighborhoods in the city. Cool! Very cool, University of Chicago. Definitely don’t jump in the lake.

But I did write a novel while I was there, so thanks for that, I guess. Although, not so much thank you to the school, which seriously, like, if a school could be a creep, that school would be a creep. But definitely thank you to my teacher there, Susan Fromberg Schaeffer. She was great.

The thing about writing a novel is that it doesn’t mean anything if the novel is junk, and I’m not sure that this one isn’t just that. It’s been a very long time, years and years, since I’ve revisited it. It’s certainly not funny. Like, at all. And it’s set during the Great Depression, but, like, I’m kind of a stupid person? I don’t know stuff. And my research consisted mostly of reading The Grapes of Wrath again. (Only half joking. Let’s just say that there are probably a few historical inaccuracies in the book. Like, a few per page.) All of that being said, the novel got me a literary agent, which for someone who fancies themselves a writer is very exciting! And then the book failed to sell. Nan Talese hated it or something, so that’s cool? Hi, Nan! You and your husband seem incredibly complicated and fascinating to me! ANYWAY: I’ve never actually made “my agent” any money, and we actually fell out of touch for a couple of years, although we’re supposed to get drinks soon. He’s really nice! And I don’t really write fiction anymore. Maybe I will again someday? Who knows! (What a fascinating mystery.) But, so, now you can, if for some reason you want to, read my old unfunny novel that may or may not be junk. Download it here. Put it on your Nook! (UPDATE: due to popular demand, and by “popular demand” I mean one person, this actually is for real available on Kindle now. No jokes.)