So yesterday, I posted the truth of what happened to Aaron that night. And soon after, a New York Times reporter called me (as I expected might happen). We talked. So the shit’s about to hit the fan. Suddenly, this blog (or at least that one entry) is going to have more readers than I…
As you know, I called, then went to see, Detective Rocco. I had my suspicions about Aaron. She thought those suspicions were legit. So that night at Randy’s old loft with Aaron, was my idea. I’d get him there, I’d get him to talk, and then the police would jump out and arrest him. Seemed…
I need another day before I can dive back into the whole Allan-Katie-Larry-Aaron mess. I’m so struggling with the shooting of Aaron. I talked about it with Sally, and with long-trusted friends and colleagues, David Goehring and Bill Hammond. Now, it’s time to talk with Moon, my Pakistan, Muslim, non-drinking (seriously) bartender. Meanwhile, allow me…
As I was saying yesterday, I slid the hidden switch. The bookshelf turned. The hidden room was revealed. I walked in with Aaron behind me. I took a deep and perhaps final breath, and suddenly—and purposely—fell to the floor. BLAM! The gun went off. Detective Rocco’s gun. Sort of as planned. There was no warning…
The buzzer in Randy’s old loft buzzed at 8 p.m. I poked my head out of a window and looked down at the building’s front door. There he was. I buzzed him in. I took a deep breath, waited a few minutes, and opened the loft’s door as Aaron stepped off the elevator. I offered…
I signed off yesterday, saying “I’m thinking about what’s good in life, just in case.” After all, there’s something about seeing my supposedly alive favorite author’s grave, and that author’s gay editor’s husband making whoopee with that author’s wife (or might she be a widow?). Confusing!!! So, onto what’s good in life — my children….
The Classic Writer-and-Editor Joke (OK, this is a bit mean, but we joked about writers and agents; it’s time for editors.) A writer and an editor are stranded in the desert. They’ve been crawling across the sand for days. As they’re about to die of thirst, they come across an oasis. The writer jumps in…
Perhaps the favorite book of mine is Tess’s Tree, the story of a girl who deals with the grief of losing her favorite tree. For me, it’s also the story of how a book sometimes just perfectly happens. There was a large maple tree outside the window of my office in our New England home…
Here’s the problem with me writing a blog. I’m used to writing books. When I write a manuscript for a book, I re-write it and re-write it. For months. And twice that’s added up to years. Then Sally and/or a friend(s) reads it. Then my agent does the same (a couple of times). Then it’s…
I got to thinking about book dedications. Maybe if I looked at the dedications in Allan Jatos’ books (I’ve got a bookshelf full of them), I’d gain some insight to the reclusive guy. After all, you’d learn a bit about me by looking at some of my book dedications. For example. The Pessimist’s Journal My…
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