I think my hardest job right now is learning how to spell “judgment” correctly. It’s not even the title I wanted for my lousy novel… Everything there is just one, huge placeholder for a project I can’t seem to return to. So I’m sorry for the error on Friday and, here during a rare moment […]
This is the mundane power of a name. A thing they call you, and when they say it, you turn your head. Whether you turn toward them to acknowledge or turn away, keep shuffling forward as if you didn’t hear, it doesn’t matter. A name is a tug on a leash. This is the enduring […]
Launch party update here – with a link to some pics. There are no pictures of the after party, where I camped out in a corner with Lonnie Martin and his wife Cindy, my landlady, a drunken co-worker from my day job, and a certain strawberry blonde. I probably should have wandered around gladhanding folks […]
Late afternoon performed a decrescendo, strong light withdrawing down to its subtler tones. Paul drove, holding his left arm awkwardly in his lap to relieve the strain on his shoulder. Remo had waved a prescription bottle under his nose, but Paul waved it away. “Those make me itchy.” They finally arrived at the two story […]
Paul Peter Hinckley, our protagonist, is an over-educated tax preparation man in his fifties who has just watched his father, an esteemed and popular attorney in New Orleans, die on the seventh green of the Audubon Golf Course. In the midst of awkwardly coping with his grief and his family’s apparent lack of the appropriate […]
Last July, I decided to return to the idea of “regular articles” here at GS. The plan, as outlined there, changed a bit and we ended up with just The Boble on Wednesdays and the Sunday Archives. Now I’m adding to the idea, because I love programming articles a year in advance.
Ah, winter’s angry hold has finally broken. The first signs of Spring in Washington are upon us – namely, fleets of landscapers out preparing our corporate greenspaces for the warm weather. Whilst they labor with their hoes and clippers, surrounded by bags of mulch and soil, I’m somewhat nostalgic about my own attempt to change […]
Well, still coming down from all of the nail-biting freakout that circles around the production of a book. Now sitting around, powerless, still nail-biting, waiting for inventory to arrive at the distribution center. I remain convinced that something will fuck up, because…well, everything always fucks up.
Oh my god! I think my brain is dead. But I did it – our latest book hit the printer on Friday morning, and now I just have to sit back, drink vodka, and wait for the proofs…
I’ve been stealthily avoiding all of the talk about how the publishing industry is dying because, really, are we surprised?