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I told her I would sing for her, that this was the measure of my love. But I’ve heard your singing, she said, not understanding me yet again.

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Shame was universal once. Before it became an affectation and lost currency. I say to the unfortunate guy suffering in the stall next to me.

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The carpenter takes his shirt off. She says, You’re sexier with your shirt on. He says, But it’s hot. It is, she thinks, but not hot enough.

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She said, Our house is so perfect, and he agreed because it was, and she said, It’s so perfect we can’t have sex in it, and he agreed, sadly.

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RIP Lou Reed

Lou Reed died today. He lived a great life, a life of art and passion. Full. Calling him a “rock musician” is kind of reductive and diminishes what he did. By a lot. There are already some great obituaries circulating and this is not an obituary. My upcoming novel is called Waiting for the Man. […]

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The March To the Novel: Little Steps To The Real Thing (or, the ISBNification of me)

A book is transformed, slowly, from idea to physical creation to consumer product. The transformation from idea to physical thing is long and painful and fraught. Creating the thing isn’t easy and never was and never will be. If it has value, it shouldn’t be easy (though this is a kind of value judgement, I […]

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Here’s the Cover (March of the Novel, Part 3,000,001)

And then there was a cover. Here it is. The blurb will change. But otherwise, this is out. This week, some writers/reviewers started to receive ARCs (advanced reader copies) – perhaps one of them will say something nice and their blurb will replace the blurb currently on the cover. Also, I saw the catalog copy […]

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The March of the Novel, part 3,000,000

So, we move forward. Waiting for the Man now has an ISBN and its own Goodreads page. I just finished my final readthrough after some last minute and astute edits and queries. And, frankly, I hope to never read this book again. Ever. Oh, I’ll read parts of it. I have to. But not the […]

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Ceci N’est Pas Un Blog Post

This is not a blog post about anything. This is not a blog post about the unimaginable inanities taking place in Quebec, or Washington, DC, or Syria, or anywhere else. This is not a blog post about what makes a blog post and what makes an essay and whether or not the word blog is […]

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What Do You Mean It’s The End of Summer?!?!

Summer was too short. Summer IS too short. I’m Canadian so I mean it. When summer already feels too short (and it does, I said it so it’s established) Labour Day (or Labor Day to my American friends) should not be allowed to fall on the first weekend of September. Or, to be technical, within […]

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