The Scoop
My name is Jed Bookout, but it’s incredibly likely that if you’re reading this at all, you already knew that.
I’ve traveled down a lot of really unusual paths in my life. All my life, I’ve been a writer, but the context in what “writer” even means has shifted substantially from year to year. For example, I wrote a story once about an alien invasion when I was 13, and was accused of being a future school shooter by the principal of my middle school. Maybe I’ll share this story at a later date, but it ended with me expelled, in the back of a cop car, and even having a “trial” of sorts - all before my 14th birthday! Ironically, THIS is a better story than the story provoking it - but it led to me abandoning my storytelling ambitions for quite a long time.
Until I got into music. For over a decade, I was a touring punk singer and show promoter, who truly embodies the old DIY meme of “everybody on my Facebook page is somebody I met once at a bar show twelve years ago.” Here, I wrote music, but more specifically I expressed myself with lyrics about everything from the rise of “ironic” fascism in America to the double-sided nature of how people perceive assault allegations depending on the gender of the perpetrator.
The title of this Substack originates from a record I helped write back in 2011 that I have a very complicated relationship with; although I find its concept of “end all censorship!!!!1” both naive and maybe a little bit dangerous in hindsight, the overall point of unapologetically embracing your voice and using it to empower yourself is something I’m drawn to even 13 years down the line.
“This record’s fake, and so am I.”
Being in a band was a lot of fun, and I played a lot of shows in almost evert continental U.S. state. But after experiencing what can best be called a John Laroche crisis of faith, I abandoned performing altogether and went to college to become a journalist.
While covering the news, I began to develop a curiosity for other people’s stories - what makes them tick, why they do the things they do, the WHO the WHAT the WHEN and all that journo school jazz. I think I was okay at this; I managed to interview a sitting congressman and a number of congressional candidates, develop a working relationship with a former congressperson, and I even got to fact check a national smear campaign happening in my own backyard.
It was the experience I had reporting the news that, strangely, led to me becoming a writer and researcher for a number of prominent content creators like Bailey Sarian, Loey Lane, Snitchery, and many, many more that I’ve worked for as a ghost writer.
This has been the most financially lucrative work of my career, and a lot of it has been incredibly fulfilling creatively… but with every new project, I feel like I’m losing a bit of myself trying to find someone else’s voice through my fingertips. Whether that’s following a publication’s style guide, or emulating a specific creator’s cadence, or even writing opinions I don’t necessarily agree with, year after year I’ve been losing a bit of myself whenever I write in service of other people, no matter how much I LIKE working with those people.
Which is why Fake Record exists today.
You see, I never actually stopped writing for myself. Whether I’m reviewing film on Letterboxd, or drafting a pitch to any of my creative friends, I don’t ever stop thinking critically about the world around me. I have way too many ideas that simply wouldn’t work for any of the creators I work for’s audiences, and way too many ideas that (to put it frankly) only I think are a good idea.
I once wrote an essay comparing Fast and Furious movies to Mountain Dew flavors, for fuck’s sake. In fact, I literally got the job with Bailey Sarian by pitching her original video director a travelogue series where a guy travels around the world finding every Mountain Dew flavor. Why the hell do I write about Mountain Dew so much?
The purpose of Fake Record, first and foremost, is to give myself an outlet so that I won’t ever feel listless and without direction ever again. But it’s also an opportunity to share some of the stories I want to share. If I want to write a sentimental tribute to Bobby Burns, a YouTuber whose career as a commentator was completely shattered by a job he was given by none other than Shane Dawson, this will be the spot for that. If I want to write about a certain metal vocalist who dropped out of the scene and mayyyyy have started an international masculinity cult, I’m going to do my best to break that story. Even if I want to share some of my film criticism, or my thoughts on Survivor, or even some of my hot takes on obscure internet drama, this is going to be the spot for all of that.
And best of all: I’m not planning on ever putting any of my articles behind a paywall. Nothing against anyone who charges for their articles, but I’ve always believed that information needs to not be gatekeeped, even if it’s just the silly ramblings of a dude named Jed. IF you decide to financially support this Substack in any way, you’re ensuring that I will be able to keep writing what I want to write, when I want to write it. Should there be an additional incentive, you’ll be the first to know, but otherwise…
I’m just happy you’re here.
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That’s the default text on the Substack about page. I don’t really see a need to change any of that, but it feels weird to just leave it without attribution. Who do I credit for that work? Substack? Would an MLA reference just literally begin with “Substack” as the author? Or would it be an authorless piece that begins with “About page”? Why do I even care about this?
