The writing in this book is so bad, it deserves its own taxonomy of suckitude. Gillian Flynn, Mary Roach, Dave Eggers, Rick Moody, Chuck Palahniuk, Amy Tan, A.J. Jacobs, Daniel Clowes, Jeff Greenwald, Po Bronson…the list goes on. They all sucked once, and they all have the guts to share some of their crappiest early work in Drivel: an uplifting bit of voyeurism, based on the sold-out “Regreturature” stage shows in San Francisco, and brought to you by Litquake and the San Francisco Writers’ Grotto. Within these pages you’ll find abstruse and esoteric poetry (bad); incoherent and illogical short stories (worse); bumfuzzling proto-journalism (shameful); and pretentious, overwrought journal entries (we’ll not speak of this again). Thanks to these courageous but foolhardy writers, the world now knows the real meaning of a work-in-progress. "Whether you’re in it for the entertainment value or the encouragement of knowing that even the best writers once sucked, you’re bound to find something to love in this collection of mostly terrible early work from some of today’s big names.' --Book Riot "The book's humor is encouraging; young writers might be inspired to keep working through what might not yet seem to them such deliciously bad writing. Not only hilarious but also somewhat magical." --SF Weekly "This endearing anthology of early poems, teenage diaries, college essays, and high school assignments lives up to its bold name. The humorous volume will inspire anyone who enjoys writing and delight those who fondly remember the awkwardness of their teenage years." -- Library Journal “ Drivel will pluck your heartstrings.” -- Vanity Fair "Before Gillian Flynn wrote the best-selling novel Gone Girl, she penned a soapy tale of evil triplets inspired by the twins of the 1980s “Sweet Valley High” series. Other highlights presented in this collection are Chuck Palahniuk’s letter to Cambodian leader Pol Pot, written at age ten, in which Palahniuk pretended to be a billionaire industrialist, and Caroline Paul’s haphazard letter to then-president Richard Nixon about animal cruelty. (Included is Nixon’s actual response on White House letterhead.) The primary sources add to the volume’s readability—Amy Tan’s decidedly awful poetry is bolstered by her pretty handwriting and the embarrassing childhood photographs throughout the book remind readers that their favorite authors had bad hair days (or years), too. Journalist Scott gathered the inspiration for her debut book from the San Francisco–based Regreturature, an annual event at which authors read their most regrettable works. Proceeds of the book benefit Litquake, the literary festival that hosts the event. VERDICT: This endearing anthology of early poems, teenage diaries, college essays, and high school assignments lives up to its bold name. The humorous volume will inspire anyone who enjoys writing and delight those who fondly remember the awkwardness of their teenage years. Ideal for all public library collections." —Stephanie Sendaula, Library Journal Editor Julia Scott produces radio documentaries and news features for the BBC World Service and nationally syndicated programs, and writes for newspapers and magazines including The New York Times. Her work has been featured in Best American Science Writing. Photos taken at Regreturature, the annual live show that inspired this book. © Chris Hardy. From L to R: First row: Ethel Rohan, Caroline Paul, David Duncan, Jeff Greenwald. Second row: Isaac Fitzgerald, Katie Crouch, Stephen Elliott. Third row: Heather Donahue, David Munro, Laura Fraser. Fourth row: Todd Oppenheimer, Jack Boulware, Simon Rich, Mary Roach. The genesis for this project was a desperate idea for a fund-raiser. Janis Cooke Newman and I were brainstorming some type of collaboration between San Francisco’s Litquake literary festival and the Writers’ Grotto collective, which might benefit Litquake. Grotto writers reading from their work? “Who’s going to pay to see that?” joked Janis, who of course is a member of the Grotto. We continued racking our brains. It couldn’t be just another reading or panel discussion. It needed some real zest. And then it suddenly hit me—what if we had these respected, professional writers read instead from the worst thing they’d ever written? The most shameful, embarrassing, precocious, clunky, sappy, immature, cloyingly earnest prose that somehow may have been stashed in a long-forgotten box. Subconsciously, I think I was remembering a horrifically misguided paper I had written about hippies in the fourth grade. It was so ill-informed and painful that I could still recall some of the sentences verbatim. If I were ever to dig it up, it might amuse a roomful of people clutching cocktails. I would come off looking pretty stupid, but perhaps other writers could be persuaded to also embarrass themselves for a worthy cause. (The “essay” is included here.) But would it work? Would writers who ordinarily pu