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 …
Okay, so I got in a fender bender today and it’s pretty much preoccupied me all day. It was one of those deals where you’re nosing through a stopped line of traffic trying to cross a busy street and you …
“Look, you not gonna get it to sound like that. It only sounds like that on the record cause it was his guitar he keep in his closet every day gettin’ soggy and melding with the temperature of the room. …
“Look at me, Paul. I’m not joking.” Paul clasped his elbows and looked into Remo’s stern countenance. The jowls and eyebrows bound a face of determination. “This is only short-term. My home has become a target for bricks and angry …
In the morning, Paul expected to find Liza gone and little sustenance in her refrigerator. After a long piss, he found he was annoyed and correct. The fridge held at least a dozen styrofoam and plastic take-home cartons from as …
Robert Hinckley’s face spread wider than his younger brother Paul’s and was poked through with a denser, stubborn stubble, but they shared the same shape and color of eyes. Their lips fitted in identical ways around words, and their noses …
So we’re six chapters in. Forty thousand words, give or take. I say “we” because it is you and me. I haven’t written a novel and you’re not reading something that’s been completed and carefully wrapped in consumable pieces. It’s …
Liza sipped a glass of chilled chardonnay. She purred slightly as the wine trickled cold over her esophagus, temporarily negating the horrific heartburn from a spicy bowl of shrimp and grits she’d had at brunch. “I’m afraid to touch any …
Downtown, in the supposedly straight-laced Central Business District, the tall office buildings and more conservative hotels looked across Canal Street into the French Quarter like a funhouse mirror: the streets that overlapped had two different names and the grand facades …
Paul pulled up to the curb of Nashville Avenue and walked up the brick walkway to his little brother Joseph’s front door. The giant two story house, from its storybook patterned shingles all the way down to the wraparound porch …