Even the Best-Laid Lies …

  Clinton, South Carolina, Monday, March 20, 2017, 10:56 a.m. Jesse Few lives in the suspended adolescence of the power life. Suddenly, all of his indiscretions come back to haunt him at once. So goes the irreverent narrative of Lying for a Living, Steve McCondichie’s debut novel. I traffic in such irreverence myself. Its smirk is reflected in some of my own fiction. The family … Continue reading Even the Best-Laid Lies …

The Rush to Fiction

Clinton, South Carolina, Saturday, March 18, 2017, 10:25 a.m. It’s been a lovely cruise, this week. Other than a couple cold nights at athletic fields, it was mainly noteworthy for what I am doing now, which is typing in various directions. This wasn’t nose-to-the-grindstone typing, in part because I own no grindstones, but also because the writing was interspersed by reading, watching, and playing (guitar). … Continue reading The Rush to Fiction

I Don’t Know Why, but I Know When

Clinton, South Carolina, Wednesday, March 1, 2017, 10:45 a.m. Sometimes a football team knows full well the importance of a game, and it knows it had better play well, and all the players tell themselves they’d better be ready and … sometimes themselves just don’t buy it. The fans simplify. They talk among themselves, and say the coach didn’t have them ready, or all the … Continue reading I Don’t Know Why, but I Know When

A Confederacy of Trumpets

Clinton, South Carolina, Friday, February 17, 2017, 11:15 a.m. I’m tired, and I think it’s President Trump’s fault. I should exercise, but, first, I need to be exorcised of President Trump. It requires too much exertion. It is an altogether futile assertion. I don’t like the man, nor his policies, but he makes ideology irrelevant. He’s everywhere. I don’t need to follow him on Twitter. … Continue reading A Confederacy of Trumpets