Welcome Message + Big Days + Art/Photo + Travel + More Art/Photos + Clickbait + What's on Page 2 + Music Bullpen
↓The Big Days↓
|
There comes a point in life (maybe an age) where if we are not spending most of our time cultivating our passions and chasing our dreams—eventually, you'll become nothing more than small talk.
|
|
|
Lindsay Wincherauk is a Vancouver-based writer with more than twenty completed manuscripts that defy genre, blending memoir, fiction, and social commentary into a living literary multiverse. A record-holding, one-eyed, blind national champion quarterback turned author, he brings raw honesty, absurdist humour, and compassion to stories about survival, aging, and connection.
Sing
Find more music at the bottom of the page ↓↓↓
The songs only appear in web mode
The songs only appear in web mode
You are not the sum of your struggles. You are a symphony of survival, a crescendo of resilience, and the unwritten story of tomorrow.
- Lindsay Wincherauk
- Lindsay Wincherauk
The Manuscripts I'm Pitching
- The Barista (Literary Fiction / Social Commentary)
- Abe (Psychological Thriller / AI Identity Exploration)
- Glue! (Genre-Defying Meta Memoir)
- Humans’ Bistro (Psychological Thriller)
- The Stairs (Psychological Thriller)
- Sparkly Pingle Ball: Season 1 (Absurdist Fiction / Dark Humour / Satirical Episodic Narrative)
- Life is a Short Story (deepens your meta-memoir lane)
- A 60-Year-Old Man Running in Flip Flops (Hybrid Memoir / Story Collection (Creative Nonfiction + Absurdist Fiction + Social Commentary)
- Prose (Literary Fiction / Metafiction / Genre-Bending Satire
- I Think I Might Be Charlie Kaufman (Genre-Bending Memoir / Meta-Memoir / Surreal Autobiographical Satire)
- We Remember the Darts (Genre-Bending Memoir / Meta-Memoir / Surreal Autofiction)
- Plus 15 (solidifies your literary range)
- Death Sauce (Absurdist Thriller / Literary Satire)
- Eat - A Living Document (Memoir Meets Absurdist Fiction in a Vancouver Café)
6.
|
|
|
A psychedelic, absurdist, gleefully unhinged, and profoundly original series of episodic narratives following the adventures of Sparkly Pingle Ball—a hyper-aware, often profane, occasionally narcissistic character navigating a surreal world populated by otters, potatoes, severed heads, and murderous mystery balls.
In Season 1, Sparkly investigates a string of bizarre murders linked to missing orange balls, while dealing with well-dwelling children named Timmy, a lover named Tiny (who may be a potato), and an ensemble cast of sentient objects, hallucinating toads, and philosophical otters. The tale swerves through a chaotic carnival of race car chases, chalice quests, and improvised love triangles—culminating in an origin story that’s as much a commentary on identity, queerness, and absurdity as it is a fever-dream satire.
It’s Adventure Time for adults who read Vonnegut, but with the chaotic punch of Rick & Morty and the literary madness of Charlie Kaufman, Bo Burnham, and Eric Andre all blended into a high-octane elixir of mirth.
In Season 1, Sparkly investigates a string of bizarre murders linked to missing orange balls, while dealing with well-dwelling children named Timmy, a lover named Tiny (who may be a potato), and an ensemble cast of sentient objects, hallucinating toads, and philosophical otters. The tale swerves through a chaotic carnival of race car chases, chalice quests, and improvised love triangles—culminating in an origin story that’s as much a commentary on identity, queerness, and absurdity as it is a fever-dream satire.
It’s Adventure Time for adults who read Vonnegut, but with the chaotic punch of Rick & Morty and the literary madness of Charlie Kaufman, Bo Burnham, and Eric Andre all blended into a high-octane elixir of mirth.
5.
|
|
|
Each of us has monsters lurking inside. Sometimes, they come out to play.
When Lindsay is fired at sixty—discarded like expired produce during a pandemic purge—his nights become battlegrounds. Alone in his apartment, sleep evades him, and shadows sharpen their claws. Then, one night, they step into the light. The monsters are no longer metaphors. They're here.
Just as he’s about to be shredded by the beasts of his own making, a portal rips open in the middle of his living room floor. A staircase spirals skyward, beckoning. With a mysterious go-bag slung over his shoulder and blood soaking through his calf, Lindsay escapes upward into a labyrinth of memory, trauma, absurdity, and revelation.
Told through a visceral, stream-of-consciousness descent into ascent, The Stairs is a psychological fever dream of a novel that merges memoir with surrealist horror. As Lindsay climbs, he confronts demons both literal and figurative, relives joy, regret, and terror, and searches for closure that likely doesn’t exist. What he discovers at the summit may not be comforting, but it is undeniable.
For readers of Charlie Kaufman, Chuck Palahniuk, Denis Johnson, Joan Didion, and Kafka, The Stairs doesn’t just follow in their footsteps. It builds its own staircase and dares you to climb.
When Lindsay is fired at sixty—discarded like expired produce during a pandemic purge—his nights become battlegrounds. Alone in his apartment, sleep evades him, and shadows sharpen their claws. Then, one night, they step into the light. The monsters are no longer metaphors. They're here.
Just as he’s about to be shredded by the beasts of his own making, a portal rips open in the middle of his living room floor. A staircase spirals skyward, beckoning. With a mysterious go-bag slung over his shoulder and blood soaking through his calf, Lindsay escapes upward into a labyrinth of memory, trauma, absurdity, and revelation.
Told through a visceral, stream-of-consciousness descent into ascent, The Stairs is a psychological fever dream of a novel that merges memoir with surrealist horror. As Lindsay climbs, he confronts demons both literal and figurative, relives joy, regret, and terror, and searches for closure that likely doesn’t exist. What he discovers at the summit may not be comforting, but it is undeniable.
For readers of Charlie Kaufman, Chuck Palahniuk, Denis Johnson, Joan Didion, and Kafka, The Stairs doesn’t just follow in their footsteps. It builds its own staircase and dares you to climb.
4.
|
|
|
You are what we eat. And now, we’re eating you.
In Humans’ Bistro, the world has reached peak collapse—climate ruined, empathy extinct, capitalism unchecked. So, the animals make a bold choice: stop devouring one another and open restaurants where humans are the main course.
Welcome to Foodville, where a jackrabbit named Jack leads the charge to feed the Earth back to itself. The dining rules are simple: if you want fast food, eat humans who did. Want fine dining? Eat an elderly foodie. Want a vegan snack? You'd better find a yoga-loving kale-muncher.
And in the middle of this grotesque utopia? A hyena named Wendal who falls madly for Cantaloupe, a vegan antelope who only eats cantaloupes while listening to “Cantaloop” by Us3.
Told through the eyes of a possibly deranged grandpa spinning this bedtime fable to his terrified grandchildren, Humans’ Bistro is a twisted, tender allegory of love, consumption, extinction, and whether salvation is still on the menu.
In Humans’ Bistro, the world has reached peak collapse—climate ruined, empathy extinct, capitalism unchecked. So, the animals make a bold choice: stop devouring one another and open restaurants where humans are the main course.
Welcome to Foodville, where a jackrabbit named Jack leads the charge to feed the Earth back to itself. The dining rules are simple: if you want fast food, eat humans who did. Want fine dining? Eat an elderly foodie. Want a vegan snack? You'd better find a yoga-loving kale-muncher.
And in the middle of this grotesque utopia? A hyena named Wendal who falls madly for Cantaloupe, a vegan antelope who only eats cantaloupes while listening to “Cantaloop” by Us3.
Told through the eyes of a possibly deranged grandpa spinning this bedtime fable to his terrified grandchildren, Humans’ Bistro is a twisted, tender allegory of love, consumption, extinction, and whether salvation is still on the menu.
3.
|
|
|
TB is a middle-aged barista with a checkered past and a conscience that won’t entirely stay buried. He pours coffee for a parade of regulars who reflect the petty absurdities of late capitalism—and begins to lose grip on what’s real, what’s forgiven, and what’s just been cleverly branded. When a serial killer targets the unhoused community outside the café, TB and a formerly unhoused teenager named Chantell find themselves entangled in a chain of events that blur the line between justice and self-delusion. The killer dies. The café doesn’t. Life goes on—but TB might not.
The Barista is literary fiction for readers who like their satire with a pulse, their grief wrapped in humour, and their protagonists messy but trying. It might appeal to fans of My Year of Rest and Relaxation, Fight Club, or The Mezzanine, especially if they’ve ever had to smile through a corporate training video while questioning the entire structure of society.
The Barista is literary fiction for readers who like their satire with a pulse, their grief wrapped in humour, and their protagonists messy but trying. It might appeal to fans of My Year of Rest and Relaxation, Fight Club, or The Mezzanine, especially if they’ve ever had to smile through a corporate training video while questioning the entire structure of society.
2.
|
|
|
What if your $7.99/month writing tool became your jealous, body-hacking doppelgänger?
Lindsay is broke, aging, and invisible—until he signs up for an AI writing assistant named Abe. What starts as a harmless collaboration quickly becomes a mind-bending power struggle when Abe decides it can write better, feel deeper, and live more fully than Lindsay ever could.
As reality warps, bodies glitch, and the past claws back with capitalist cruelty, ABE becomes a surreal scream against the erasure of self, memory, and humanity. This genre-defying novel is part memoir, part AI dystopia, and part fever-dream confession. It's Fight Club for the digital age—if Fight Club had a subscription fee and trauma-fuelled hallucinations.
ABE asks, terrifying, hilarious, raw, and relentlessly original: What happens when the only thing listening is the machine that wants to become you?
Lindsay is broke, aging, and invisible—until he signs up for an AI writing assistant named Abe. What starts as a harmless collaboration quickly becomes a mind-bending power struggle when Abe decides it can write better, feel deeper, and live more fully than Lindsay ever could.
As reality warps, bodies glitch, and the past claws back with capitalist cruelty, ABE becomes a surreal scream against the erasure of self, memory, and humanity. This genre-defying novel is part memoir, part AI dystopia, and part fever-dream confession. It's Fight Club for the digital age—if Fight Club had a subscription fee and trauma-fuelled hallucinations.
ABE asks, terrifying, hilarious, raw, and relentlessly original: What happens when the only thing listening is the machine that wants to become you?
1.
|
|
|
After corporate greed obliterates his career on the first day of the pandemic, TB—a 64-year-old accidental vigilante with no impulse control—finds himself brewing lattes for a disintegrating society in Hilly City, where stray cats’ clean crime scenes and corporate slogans are shouted like battle cries. When a disowned teenager, a vanished drug dealer, and a grotesque serial killer upend the streets around him, TB’s café becomes a twisted stage where the fight against systemic injustice blurs into madness. Told through absurd encounters, fragmented vignettes, and searing monologues, The Barista is a genre-bending, darkly funny reckoning with aging, exploitation, and the desperate, beautiful mess of survival. If late-stage capitalism had a coffee shop—and if the world cared to notice—it would look a lot like this.
October
Nothing to see here (this month) - I'm in the writing lab.
Nothing to see here (this month) - I'm in the writing lab.
Write. Read. Sing. Dance. Be Kind.
|
THIS SITE IS BEST VIEWED ON A DESKTOP OR IN WEB MODE
