On Writing
This is a short book because most books about writing are filled with bullshit. Fiction writers,...
This is a short book because most books about writing are filled with bullshit. Fiction writers,...
It was not so interesting driving at night. No dogs to see, only the highway lighted with his...
“Where are you going now?” “Mr. Mancuso and his aunt, they gonna pick me up in a few minutes. We...
And here is Henry, Thomas’s younger brother, already recognized as one of the most ambitious...
One of these people, a woman, sits on the rocks to watch the sunset every afternoon. She wears a...
“I know it’s a bright colour,” the owner said. “It’s...
Along the block some people were out on their porches looking at him and the motorcycle. The...
You know what I get to wondering, Maurice? Tell me, Charlie. About death, Moss. Here we go. Is it...
He spent the night in a vacant lot, cowering under a profusion of weedy growths and pinprick...
And The Rock Cried Out “When I was a young man I was very full of wildness and ideas. I read...
I recall that I am extremely forgetful. I believe I am. I think I know that I am forgetful. Though...
Epigenesis “What are you doing?” the trout asks. “I’m turning on the...