In October 2016, after finishing a string of documentaries on cults, I imagined a world of Trump TV.
I don’t know how much credit should go to the documentaries– I have always had a weird fascination with cults and insulated lifestyles. Maybe it was the huge uptick in the political commentary I’d been watching. The ideas kept coming, wondering what shows a President Trump would air; even what movies would marathon late into the night.
I told myself “no.” I felt that I shouldn’t be bothering with short pieces when I had a novel draft to complete. Humor writing was unrelated, a fluke, a distraction. My writing to-do lists loomed over my desk. Satire was something I should remain on the consuming end of. Besides, it wasn’t like a one-page satire piece was going to change my life financially.
When your budget is “can I really afford a topping on my pizza” tight, it is hard not to judge writing projects by their earning potential. After much internal debate, I allowed myself to open a new, blank document and write whatever came to mind. What appeared on the page looked oddly similar to the humorous articles I enjoyed finding on my social media feed. Strange, I thought to myself. Maybe there was something to this.