Happy holidays, everyone.
I just found out there was a facebook mail folder labeled “Other.” Be careful when you go there.
"There is something terrifying about meeting writers and liking them — drinking with them, realizing you come from the same part of the world, realizing you are interested in similar things, and that you probably like the same books — and then having to go home, get their book, read it, and hope to fuck you enjoy it."
— Patrick Somerville’s Year in Reading. (via millionsmillions)
Here is the problem when the wrong cultural and commercial conditions are in place: the answer is “nobody.” Which is an infuriating answer, and one that—not to mention—the mainstream media, by virtue of being the mainstream media, is simply unequipped to articulate.
Home No. 5: I was writing last night (and am still thinking) about public...
I was writing last night (and am still thinking) about public expressions of grief and general reactions to tragedies, and how I respect your right to have those public expressions even as I choose to ignore them because all they do is make me feel worse. I watched all my feeds ignite on Friday…
Hey friends. Here’s a new short story.
Here’s me interviewing Kathleen Alcott, an amazing young writer, at Bomb.
A nice addition to the blurbs for the paperback next summer.
Sometimes new stuff happens so fast, you don’t really even have time to process it, let alone make a decision that’s based on anything but instinct. I got hired to write for this show, and am in LA now, working away. Books live in the center of my heart, they do, but film and TV flank them. There was no chance I was passing this up.
Time to live in a different world for a little while…
