When a Poet Writes a Novel
When a poet writes a novel the moon coils up into a copper-headed snake and hisses secrets. The horizon line bends like a cello string after the sun nods off into the thinning green sea to sleep. When a poet…
When a poet writes a novel the moon coils up into a copper-headed snake and hisses secrets. The horizon line bends like a cello string after the sun nods off into the thinning green sea to sleep. When a poet…
When I set out to write a novel inspired by the case of Charles Schmid, the “Pied Piper of Tucson,” I knew from the start that I was not the only writer to find a story in this case.
After I jubilantly signed with an agent I met at last year’s Muse and the Marketplace conference in Boston, well-meaning friends and fellow writers began bombarding me with advice. You need more Facebook followers. You have to be more visible…
I have twenty minutes to write, about anything, anything at all, and therein lies the problem, the problem of too much choice. I like limits. I adore constraints. Now I’ve got 19 minutes and eight seconds. Shit. I suppose I…
Here’s a comment my copyeditor, Jade Z. Scibilia, made about my last manuscript: “I laughed when you had Lynch mention the number of Johns in the police force (I recall we had to work on that in Idyll Threats). Buuuuut, we have…
It’s the stuff of nightmares. The thing that keeps established authors up at night during their lowest points of self-confidence; what gets newbies wasting their time trying to copyright their books before they even begin to write them; what causes…