No, not the punctuation mark. Yes, the other thing. Periods tend not to show up in fiction, probably for the same reasons that urine and shit don’t show up in fiction. They’re quotidian elements that don’t really add anything to narrative unless they’re indicating sickness or a dramatic turn — pregnancy, miscarriage, sudden reproductive potential, and so on. But the fact is that unless your novel or short story takes place in a span of less than 28 days, your…
I’ve been turning over a few different articles in my mind. This happens more often than I’m comfortable admitting. I leave the tabs up and open, headlines glaring at me, and I think about the difference between what I feel and what I want to say, and how to fill that gap with meaningful communication. Specifically, I want to pick apart the idea that being a woman who writes means being a woman who’s lonely.
I’m pretty busy this summer. So busy, in fact, that I bought new luggage. The piece of luggage I usually travel with has only two wheels and only one functional zipper. It’s gone with me a bunch of places, but during the 12-hour Greyhound trip between San Francisco and Los Angeles after my wallet was stolen last year, I decided that if I ever made it out of this jam I would invest in something more user-friendly. Speaking of San…
Hi there. If you want to understand what this post is about, you should probably watch Iron Man 3. Go ahead. It’s a really fun movie. You’ll like it. It’s okay. I can wait. I don’t want to spoil you.
I mentioned in my previous post, I spent part of the week before last doing appearances at two Toronto public libraries. My first afternoon out, I spoke with a couple of classes of fifth graders about being a writer, and more importantly, being a reader. I talked about all the books that had ever gotten me into trouble. These included To Kill A Mockingbird (which caused me to have a conversation about rape with a fellow second-grader, and I suspect…
This morning after Dave left the house, my mom and dad called to wish me a happy birthday. While I was talking with Dad, he mentioned bragging about me to a colleague at ISC West, the annual security conference he visits in Vegas. Vegas has featured prominently in my dad’s professional history; it’s a big reason why part of iD takes place there. (In other news: part of iD takes place in Las Vegas, at a casino called The Akiba.)…
This is the best macaroni & cheese dish I’ve ever made. I’ve been trying for years, and I can safely say that this dish successfully merges the yearnings of my childhood self with the gustatory leanings of my adult self.
No, really. The 2012 finalists for the Golden Tentacle: Madeline Ashby’s vN (Angry Robot) Jenni Fagan’s The Panopticon (William Heinemann) Rachel Hartman’s Seraphina (Doubleday) Karen Lord’s Redemption in Indigo (Jo Fletcher Books) Tom Pollock’s The City’s Son (Jo Fletcher Books) I really should have blogged this earlier, but, to my credit, I did share it on Twitter. The Kitschies (which I had never heard of, until this point), “reward the year’s most progressive, intelligent and entertaining works that contain elements…
A while back, my Twitter pal Damien G. Walter wrote a Guardian column on Ursula K. LeGuin’s upcoming short story collections. He takes a very specific perspective on LeGuin’s stories in context, situating LeGuin within the speculative literary canon as a disquieting moralist, a shit-disturber of the highest order who tricks the brain into thinking by first twisting the heart into feeling. I agree with that sentiment, but I don’t think that’s the whole of LeGuin’s genius or her technique….
In a few hours, I’ll be on a plane back to Toronto from Los Angeles. With any luck, I’ll be allowed to come home. Here are the songs I’m listening to.