When I first read the story “Guts” in workshop — my fellow writers that I’ve been meeting with for almost 20 years — they laughed; they didn’t have any kind of shock reaction. The first time I read it in public, we had our first two fainters. Subsequently, almost every time I’ve read it, we’ve had people fainting. On one level, I’m thrilled that the stories can do this, that words coming out of somebody’s mouth for seven or nine minutes could have this fantastic effect. But on a sweeter level, since I’m on the stage, I get to witness all the people around the fainter. Typically, it’s several hundred people who all kind of resent each other because they’ve all shown up, and maybe it’s crowded, and they all see each other as competition. They all want to ignore each other, until the moment that that one person collapses to the floor, and then suddenly all of these people care about one person and think that person has possibly died. Those people become instantly connected and empathetic. They scoop up and care for the fallen person until the fallen person is revived. At that point, all the witnesses become euphoric because it’s like they’ve seen Lazarus rise from the dead. They’re just buzzing, so united as a little group that’s experienced this death and resurrection that, from my vantage point on stage, it’s the most glorious thing you could watch. I’m the audience, they’re the performance, and I just love those four or five minutes. Everybody is so happy, they can’t stop smiling.
Chuck Palahnuik interview
VicElaine 