Sunday, November 04, 2007


it was unpragmatic of me to debut with a slight tale of love. slightness - and love - are both insufficient and unfashionable in this day. anything uncynical is waiting to be punched in the face. anything written by a woman is immediately sent to a revolting parking lot called 'chick lit'. terrifying.

even more terrifying are the egotistical, frantically networking weirdos i meet whose 'vocation' matches mine. does their soul match mine as well? who are all these people? why are they writing? why am i? the only way to undo the karma of an awful book is to stop writing, or to write a better one. the choice is mine. until i make it, i must remove myself from the bustle.


Anonymous said...


Anonymous said...


You being there on not doesn't change a thing for them. But you being there changes a thing for us. you're there. see?

I look forward to the next one.

Anonymous said...

i miss you already. lassie come home.