I found a story I wrote ages ago, so I have put it up under a separate page on the menu bar
I don’t write many short stories, because it’s so difficult to do. I do read them, though, and the best ones are so brilliant they can leave you gasping for air. John Cheever’s, for example, or Alice Munro’s. One of my favourite iPod resorts, particularly for insomnia or on long boring journeys, is the New Yorker Fiction podcast in which a New Yorker writer chooses another story from the magazine’s archive to read aloud and discuss with the fiction editor.
I’m in Italy for a few days, recharging before writing the last third of the current novel, so I have been thinking about stories and via the podcasts I have just listened to Rick Bass reading Thomas McGuane’s ICE. Oh how simple it seems, and how complicated it actually is to put so much meaning into so few words. I can’t get the rhythm of McGuane’s writing out of my head.
Rather sotto voce lately on this page. It’s partly just because of work soaking up most of the energy, but also because I have had a bad back. I’ve never suffered from this before and it does rather take over.
Hoping for an improvement following plenty of pasta and Tuscan red.