writer

My Novel Is Like a Weary Mattress (And So Am I) Or, the Literary Powers of Love

Now Playing: The sound of the fan overhead. Because I’m too tired for anything else. Look, I know what you’re thinking. But this isn’t that kind of blog. I’m just saying: my novel is big, hard to maneuver, and no matter how I position it, it never quite fits where I think it’s going toContinue reading “My Novel Is Like a Weary Mattress (And So Am I) Or, the Literary Powers of Love”