Just thinking about what I said in that last post, about how I don’t do reviews because I’m pretty sure I’d set my standards impossibly high, just so I could shoot down every book in my path. That may be a little too broad a statement, though — I don’t mean to suggest that all reviews that burn a book are similarly motivated. Granted, some reviewers just have bad attitudes (Tobias Wolff, of course, in “Bullet to the Brain,” shoots one …

Well, I mean, yeah, because he’s got titles like THE LUST LIZARD OF MELANCHOLY COVE and PRACTICAL DEMONKEEPING. These are what originally got me peeling his books up from the shelves back whenever ago. Years already, I guess. Too, though, I’ve yet to read a CMoore book that hasn’t made me smile, and then impressed me too, somehow. Like this, from A DIRTY JOB, which I just finished ten minutes ago:

  • “Oh, goddamn,” said Minty Fresh (damn on the dow

Editor Y:

In today’s trend-oriented publishing climate, you need to either be the celebrity-of-the-moment or you need to have a bulletproof plan to plug into what’s hot, what’s guaranteed, what there’s already an audience for. And, sir/madam/etc., that you don’t already know my name from the tabloids should suggest that, while not infamous for killing or raping or stalking somebody, which is pretty much the standard for literary poten

Of all the footnotes I cut from DEMON THEORY, there’s an OLIVER TWIST / ANIMAL HOUSE one that I maybe miss the most. There was this fun, ceramic-pig oriented Pynchon-one too though, I suppose, which scuttled through PLAYBOY and I forget all-where. And more and more. This, though, it’s one that I never actually put to paper, only considered: getting to LOST via MILLENIUM via X-FILES or something — Terry O’Quinn seems to be in about everything I like. E…

  • if someone at a party gets some kind of news that makes them drop what they’re drinking, the glass won’t shatter
  • if two people are fighting and one of them has a pistol, then that person with the pistol will win. Which is to say we won’t have to have that shot of the gun sliding away
  • if anybody’s carrying a bag of groceries, then not only will it have toilet paper instead of a loaf of French bread, but the bag won’t be paper either
  • if a character is despon

So on the radio the other day I heard a song that took me right back to the second grade–The Gatlin Brothers’ “All the Gold in California.” Some excellent stuff. But it got me thinking about what all else I used to listen to about that time. Up until the fifth grade, anyway. I mean, once I hit sixth, I’d discover Prince and Quiet Riot and Shalimar and Terrence Trent D’Arby and the FOOTLOOSE and GREASE soundtracks, and all that would carry me u…

Just finished writing the novel I started the day that Cult workshop went over (21 June; really I finished Friday night, I suppose, just before Monk). It Came from Del Rio. Nothing but fun. Planned to go no more than 240 pages, and then just went 285, which is something of a record for me, staying that close to the blueprints. Anyway, it’s a story of a father and a daughter, of a rabbit and a zombie, a border story which deals with the traffic both of narcotics and weapons of terr…

Finally rigged it up, here. It’s in Javascript, so hopefully your browser’s got that turned on. No cookies, though. And, the only possible glitch I can see, really, aside from not knowing the answers, is that if you’ve got your screen-resolution set too low, then things might get a little bit hinky. Which is the first time I’ve ever used that word. And yeah, it’s not set up to take comments/corrections/answers, so, if you’ve got any, ju…

what’s a friend list without an enemy list, I say. but, anyway, people kept asking why I was such a loser as to not be on myspace, and I kept answering that, hey, I’m not in the sixth grade, but, anyway, went in there finally, looked around, and liked it enough to stay. Click the image to go the profile, I guess. Dont think I have any friends yet, though. Not even sure how to lure them over.

and yeah, I see Craig (Clevenger)’s over on Tribe, maybe, so that’s eno…

is the author of 22 or 23 books, ~300 stories, and all this stuff here. He lives in Boulder, Colorado, and has a few broken-down old trucks, one PhD, and way too many boots

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