June 2010
13 posts
Q: What’s the easiest way to make sure that your next potential-novel-project-thing is the biggest pain in the ass to write in the history of mankind?
A: Set it in LA and make two of your characters Scottish.
May 2010
7 posts
Time Lapse Residence
A year ago, nearly to the day, I pulled up to the first front door in my life that didn’t have a an occupancy expiration date, as every home in my life had before it. Childhood home. Dorm. Summer sublet. Whatever. So, if someone would have told me that in less than a year from when I moved into my first post-college apartment I’d be moved out, now living in my own place, a web...
As if this week could not get any more bizarre/epic/mostly bizarre, a couple has just moved in across the street with me that are basically physically identical to Christian and Paige.
The Watch Not On Your Wrist
The waiting game is a hell of a thing.
I’ve written over and over how this novel has taught me things about myself that I never imagined fiction could. And one of those things has been about relinquishing control, which is one of the daily struggles I find hardest. So now, with the manuscript out of my hands, potential good news floating in the wind, I’m waiting. At this point,...
Good lord, I have not been this excited about something new I’ve written since three years ago when I started the piece that turned into the novel. 3,000-plus words in about three days. Nothing about the structure is characteristic of my writing. Nothing about the process. But it doesn’t matter. I am so excited that I don’t even want to pause to use a period at the moment.
The Massive Stone House
200 blog posts now locked into archives, I’ve written a billion times how my characters’ world is so real to me that sometimes, it scares me. I’ve written about how crazy it’s driven me, and how at times, it’s even blurred my reality. And while I never heaved a sigh of relief to get out of it when I finished the novel, I felt an exciting prospect looming on the...
From Bedford to Seventh
Yesterday, I finished the Moleskine I’ve had for the past three years. I picked it up in late May of 2007 at Spoonbill and Sugartown on Bedford Avenue a few days after I moved into my first-ever Brooklyn apartment. I went to the cafe next door and wrote one of my favorite quotes on the first page: “Who wields a poem huger than the grave?” Then, I turned the page and scribbled...