In many ways, I was a little kid when I published this book. I’m an awesome writer, but a year ago I didn’t know shit about being an author. Now I’m a grown-up and, as grown-ups are, sadder, wiser, and slightly battered—but also more capable than a kid could ever be. Here are some of the lessons I learned this year. Read more
Category: Indie publishing
Alison and the Number One bus
Chocolate priest breakfast
Publishing while white (C is for Cathy)
On the capital B
She hated publicity
Clyde Fortenay had lived within earshot of Fenway Park since he was four years old. The Boston papers made much of this when he was drafted, and also of his age at the time (seventeen). If she’d known the fuss it would cause, Bronwyn said, she never would have let him skip a grade. She hated publicity, although she had been involved with people who needed it, in one way or another, for as long as Clyde could remember.
To my twenty-years-ago self; or, Unworldly
On telling the truth
Becoming external
Do you want to know what this feels like? It sucks. It feels like I’m turning myself inside out and is just about as comfortable. Half an hour before an open mike I usually get this sick sensation as if I’ve just moved into an empty, unfurnished apartment in a strange city where I don’t know anybody and my front door doesn’t lock properly and the sun is going down. It’s not safe. It’s not normal. I really shouldn’t be here and I’ve never known this kind of dread.
Sometimes the next day, I feel like I can do anything.