louisa & the bananafish
these are the stories I've sent out in my tinyletter. they range from recent ones as well as older ones from my youth. all stories are accompanied by original photographs that i took.
you can subscribe using the form on the right and get an original short story sent to your email whenever i feel like sending one out.
CW: hetero sex
i'm starting off with a short story i wrote maybe five or six years ago when i was apparently very into the "beautiful melancholia" literary trope and used it often. like most of my short stories, this was inspired by a small action around which i created characters and a story.
the title is the name of an ella fitzgerald song (written by hoagy carmichael with lyrics by ned washington) with which i was likely obsessed at the time and which happened to fit nicely with the theme of the story.
CW: drinking, hetero sex, promiscuity, alcoholism
yet another story that, while writing it, i laughably thought would be my masterpiece. unlike the last one, though, i'm quite proud of this one, though i feel it's a little rough in some parts (mostly transitions).
the title i kinda stole from erica jong's seducing the demon: writing for my life. if you've read any erica jong––particularly her still-relevant and perfect debut, fear of flying––then you will already be able to see isadora wing's influence on this piece.
i've also added some spanish dialogue in this piece because i'm apparently a show-off; this dialogue is translated at the very end.
and a final note: while this is a heavily autobiographical piece, it is not real. it is still fiction, so i don't want to hear y'all referring to this piece as if it's a personal essay or some nonsense––it's fiction!
as i sit here in my air b'n'b in the coastal town of almería (about two hours east of granada), i'm meek with shame at having to present you with unfinished works this time around. as if to make up for it (or punish you––who knows really?), it's a twofer again!
these are the starts of two stories that started out very different but––as they currently stand––seem to now be heading in the same direction. i started writing them shortly after i got back from my penis tour of europe and never really could get past where i stopped. i had this wishful idea that i would return to my beloved granada and suddenly be inspired to finish one of them and have a new story to share with you today, but the universe has never been one to respect my plans.
so, here's "granada" and "alhambra" for you––think of them as hopeful notes from past-sarah-khan since present- and maybe even future-) sarah-khan are side-eyeing these like chloe.
CW: toxic masculinity, fragile masculinity
here's a pretentious quasi-vengeful story i wrote some years ago. inspired mainly by a guy i had once drunkenly fucked who told me that he hadn't been able to remember my name after and so had referred to me as sabina in his journal because i reminded him of sabina from milan kundera's the unbearable lightness of being, a book i was once mildly obsessed with.
that's really the only truth in this story. the rest of just my own fantasy of how i wished my lovers saw me. i don't think this anymore; in fact, i hope my former lovers never think of me at all ever again to be honest.
i'm sending this to you because i would very much welcome feedback on it. i'm trying to rework it and polish it so it's one that i don't dread returning to (which is currently how i see it), so all constructive critiscm is welcome and encouraged. thanks.
CW: smoking, drinking, death
this is a new story that i just finished last week. this is the second version of it as i wrote the ending of the first version in a rush because i just wanted it to be done. after stepping away from it for a couple of weeks i realised that the original ending i had had in mind was the better way to go.
however, i'm still not sure if this is how i want to leave this piece.
CW: hetero sex (p in v) hetero oral sex, bdsm, mild voyeurism, use of the word "cunt" to describe vagina
this piece is one that embarrasses me a little bit now. it was one of the first stories i wrote after coming out of a five-year writing hiatus. i was writing a lot of "erotica" at the time, which i thought were good and now they embarrass me like the way old writing tends to embarrass.
still, i put it here because i wrote a follow-up to it (which you'll also receive today!), and i do like the sequel. both were inspired by one particular lover i had during my "penis tour of europe" who was not really attractive but for whom i went a little gaga. now he's just a happy memory that i sometimes think of when i'm with a particularly bad lover.
CW: hetero sex, what could be construed as misogynistic slurs used, mention of alcoholism/drinking.
it's a day late this week because i almost considered abruptly stopping to send these out because i haven't been doing much writing at all lately. but then i just as quickly changed my mind today and have for you a story from a few years ago, when i was at the height of my promiscuity and having sex just to get my number up.
many people now know that i had an almost fool-proof system to get my rocks off that involved rules and personal guidelines from which i rarely ever strayed. it allowed me total control of my sexuality and though there were many men i slept with who thought it was cool i was so sex positive, there were just as many if not more who claimed to think it was cool but who still hadn't tackled their ingrained misogyny and ingrained sex-shaming -- the latter men led to my writing lots of stories about hapless men who were nothing more than walking dildos to the unnamed protagonist with a pussy. hell, a couple even ended up inspiring paid freelance articles i wrote!
it was a time in my life when i was a healthy mix of anais nin and tricia from "mallrats." I was writing a lot of fiction then, having recently been hearbroken into breaking my writing hiatus of ~5 years and almost all of those stories were smut. this was a rare one that wasn't as graphic or even as sexual as the rest and it was inspired in part by the men who hungrily entered into no-strings-attached sexual relationships with me and ended up catching the feels and partially by a lover i had with whom i once had a conversation about why i fuck so much.
so, here it is. any thoughts are welcome -- just hit reply to this email and it'll get your words (kind or not!) delivered right to my inbox.
CW: alcohol, mention of mental illness, suicide
i apologise ahead of time for the melodrama that i feel is this story. when i started it, i laughably thought it would be my masterpiece. i don't feel that way about it anymore, but i don't hate it either.
CW: hetero sex (p in v) hetero oral sex, bdsm
as promised, here is the sequel to the previous story. i like this one better because i feel it has more beef to it––it's not just a sexy story. and i guess my misandric heart likes the subtle power play that is more prominent here.
part of the title is from my favourite album of all time, leonard cohen's death of a ladies man, which is a beautiful album and you should all listen to it.
there isn't really much more to say that i didn't already say in the preface to the last story, so i'll let you get to it without further ado
CW: alcohol, impotency
i'm back--sorta. i'd been thinking of restarting this tinyletter but couldn't convince myself to commit to the biweekly schedule i'd set for myself, so i decided to say fuck it and will just send y'all stories literally whenever i feel like it. it'll be a fun surprise for your inboxes. you're welcome.
this is a story i wrote about 6 years ago after my "penis tour of europe" and it is totally based on a real guy i met in paris and i think about him still and can't believe he wasn't a character created by a white male creative writing undergrad. you can tell i wasn't amused by him at all by how i've chosen to embalm him in this story but it sure makes for a good chortle now and then.
anyway, here it is. read it, or don't; enjoy it, or don't.