Good Gods! the summer is such a face slapper when you’re trying to write fiction. And yet, somehow I got stuff done–not enough by any means, but stuff nonetheless.

I’ve had summers where I’ve completely driven off the road and been unable to find my way back until Thanksgiving. Two years ago, I was on the move in a big way finishing up a novella about modern addiction after a summer of twiddle-twaddling, and out of the blue I get leveled by a ruptured disk in my lower back.

But it’s boring to hear about a writer’s actual life, isn’t it? I apologize.

Well, boring unless the writer is letting people in on some scandalous sexual tale or they Continue reading “Which Way We Going Now?” →

The best fiction out there can be found in standup cabarets around the U.S. Comedians know how to wield the stick of verbal art to talk about the meaning of life better than anyone who types or scrawls alone in a room for a living. They also know how to stretch the boundaries of language and what topics we need to discuss openly given whatever input has been flooding the transom of everyone’s nightmares and unconscious fantasies.

I will never understand why LA and NYC are considered the full frontal super-weight fulcrums of the standup comedy sphere, but it doesn’t matter. Go to any standup house anywhere in North America and you’ll find men and women making up the most bizarre and often hilariously distasteful shit you’ve ever heard. I suppose LA and NYC are the best places because so many comics congregate in those regions (you can probably add Chicago in as well), but I’ve seen some great comedy in St. Louis, New Jersey, Tampa, Continue reading “On Stories, Fictions, Literature, and Jokes in the Modern World” →