Only abandoned. Here’s me, about nine months ago, talking about a work-in-progress called Cowboys and Indians. I think it needs one more going over, and maybe the final section needs a little tweaking, but I think this one is almost ready to go out into the world, and I’m really happy about that. It may … Continue reading
Literature is like pornography: no one can tell you what it is, but they know it when they see it. Such is the underlying assumption behind this cry for help from Arthur Krystal in the New Yorker, which allows him, among many other logically-suspect things, to claim unto literature’s greedy penumbra several works which are … Continue reading
“It´s a beautiful day outside,” whispered the demon in that honey-sweet voice. “You should go outside and enjoy it. It´s not healthy to spend all your time in here, watching the world through the window.” “I have an idea,” said the angel. “Do you want to hear about it? I think it´s really cool, and … Continue reading
Sometimes I sleep very soundly, and though I dream, the dreams have faded to wisps by the time I have risen close enough to consciousness to apprehend them. Other times I dream closer to the surface, and though it’s not quite that awesome lucid dreaming experience where you can make yourself fly or cause a … Continue reading
So, I was sitting in a cafe today, having a not-bad cup of coffee and staring another blank sheet of paper in the face. I finished the story I was working on last night in a different cafe (with much better coffee; you wouldn´t believe how hard it is to find a decent cup down … Continue reading
