Quick, before they are outlawed. Inhale, inject, and/or read these recently-legalized vices el pronto: A Mel Bosworth is worth a follow-up story chapbook called Grease Stains, Kismet, and Maternal Wisdom. Street date of NOW! Mine is on my way. Based on Mel’s previous work, I can expect some glorious toilet time in the near future. 1 Ben Tanzer will run you 99 Problems (that was an easy conversion). This book is a collection of essays about running. I’m no runner. Write a book called 99 Pastries, and I’m all over it (though I am all over 99 Problems, too; I finally bought a copy today). Want a taste? Meet a guy named Jason Behrends over at the Orange Alert Podcast, episode 27. Tell him “Compulsions” sent you. Word is Craig Wallwork will net a cool collection of recent blog posts. You ever tried Pela Via? What about Plagiarism? Ease into…
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(part of my ongoing Unexpected Literary References series) The episode of Futurama titled Lrrreconcilable Ndndifferences featured a suspiciously eReader-esque device (pictured in the above screenshot, though the episode contained better images of the device), which got me thinking, yet again, about my inevitable adoption of an eReader. I've held off so far for two main reasons: I simply like having books. Yes, possibly just to show off for my two friends who would be impressed by a bookshelf, but also because I feel that the nurtured associations of a book--the smell, the feel of the pages, the statement of class--are part of the reading experience and actually add to the overall gratification of a finished book. No single eReader delivers what I want. And what do I want? Low price point. Overall, eReaders have recently dropped in price, which is encouraging. But still I feel that $149 is too much. E-ink…
It has been 10 years since a living novelist has appeared on the cover of Time (since Stephen King in 2000). So why does Jonathan Franzen get to right this wrong? Why not me? "Because you've never had a novel published," you say. True. Though smell on the street is that travesty will soon to be rectified....more to come on that lovely bit of teasery a bit later. Until then, come on, you be the judge. I make a damn good counterpoint.
July will forever forward be known not as the month in which America celebrates its independence, but instead as the month that witnessed the release of Richard Thomas’s debut novel, Transubstantiate. This novel has been a long time coming, and I urge everyone to grab a copy as soon as possible. And as you do that, get involved with some of the discussion and live readings surrounding the novel, including a July 19 live Q&A at Bitten By Books (Time TBD), a July 18th reading at Archie’s Iowa Rockwell Tavern in Chicago, IL from 8:00 – 11:30, an October 16th reading the infamous Quimby’s also in Chicago, IL, and an ongoing book discussion at The Velvet’s goodreads group. Not yet convinced? Read a few excerpts at Plots With Guns. Or perhaps this review at Bitten By Books. Don’t know enough about the author? Get to know him at his The…
In response to Mr. Highland’s challenge to come up with a counter point to my list of the fringe benefits of writing, I offer to you, the fringe detriments of writing: Not enough people worship me. Jesus had a whole pool of suckers to write for him. Am I comparing myself to Jesus? Yes. Which brings me to... An inflated ego brings nothing but misery. But on someone as awesome as me, misery looks damn good. Something can easily take years to write, but can be read and forgotten in hours (wow, that was a bit of an honest one. I wasn’t expecting that) If you are so brash as to call your writing an art-form, very few people will be interested. People who don’t care for art will change the subject. People who don’t write but enjoy art will simply not believe you. And people who do write and…
As far as meeting this goal, I failed. I did not reach 5,000 print-quality words in one day. However, I did learn something very important. I am simply not meant to write all day. I am glad that I can no longer blame my non-productivity on time constraints. In fact, I actually work better given 2-3 hour windows. As you can see by the time-line below, the day started off quite well. 10:08a (1 word) first word (The), first cup of coffee (Soy Chai Latte with an extra shot – It’s like beer: start the night with something exotic so that when you are drunk later you don’t care what brand you are drinking). 11:08a (570 words) went to the bathroom, took in a chapter of Saramago’s The Stone Raft, and gave the dog a treat. She’s been really good about not killing me, considering I am not a daily…
When my lovely wife asked what I wanted for Father's Day, I replied quite simply: a day to myself. Fearing that the request may imply that my primary desire was to spend the day away from my family, I quickly explained that I wanted the day to write. I've been spoiled by the frantic life of parenthood, being able to blame my lack of productivity on the burdens of being a father. "Why haven't you finished the first draft of your world-changing novel?" my non-existent editor asks. "Well you see, sir, I have this child..." But I know the days of those lies must end. I only hurt myself when I don't get shit done. My beautiful wife has allowed me the entire day. I'll be spending the time at her parent's house where I can be assured just enough discomfort to keep me isolated to the page (they are…