I am aware that what I am about to say marks me as a buffoon of the highest ass-showing order, but I’m saying it anyway: I don’t like Catch-22. I have friends who list it as their most favorite novel. That is fine and good for them. I can’t handle the way it grinds back and forth over its message sentence by sentence. It’s like being told tales your whole life of the greatest masseur in the world, Sven. At long last, you finally find yourself with time and the... Read The Rest →
I will speak with Jake of the Nation of Jake on the AM airwaves March 20th. I’ll be in town for MidsouthCon 33, and I’ll be talking to Jake about books, writing, and probably life in general. Jake’s show follows Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity so I have no doubt that we’ll have plenty to discuss. Fun fact: Jake and I did our best to get hired as a radio morning show crew here in Atlanta some years ago, but the station chose not to hire us. Shame.
The ink is barely dry on my publishing contract. Editing has yet to begin. There’s still a long track ahead, along which my book project could derail — and then explode — at any moment. And yet, there is work to do … in the form of paperwork to fill out. Today, one such document asked me to define my book’s “Heat Level.” I did not know there was such a thing. How I Got Here I didn’t set out to become a romance novelist. I pitched the most ridiculous... Read The Rest →
Let me start by saying that I mean no ill toward Facebook employees, particularly none toward those in rank and file. Facebook is like a giant wheel. I don’t blame the spokes for where the wheel goes. People gotta eat. But I do have some complaints about the greater organism. I believe that Facebook knowingly plays to my vanity with pumped up numbers in some cases, while using fuzzy math to entice me to spend money. I believe that a significant portion of the “likes” I have on my Atlanta... Read The Rest →
I sniff paper. It smells good. I like looking at type thwhacked into paper too, because, unlike the waste you get from a printer, the letters are depressed into the page. Typewriters mean it. So what do you do if you like messing around with paper that has letters thwhacked into it? Buy a typewriter, you popinjay! …sorry about calling you a popinjay just then. I’m sure you’re nice. I’m frustrated, and when I get frustrated I lash out. To be truthful, I’m retroactively frustrated. You see, when I first... Read The Rest →