When this lonely writing life sucks me down, I look to my books for solace. I kneel first by the lower shelves, home to racier friends, legendary abusers of the literary life, and quietly binge. I binge on London and Bishop, Faulkner and Sexton,...
I read from Rainer Maria Rilke’s, ‘Letters to a Young Writer.’ The poet is one of my Gods, in that he endorses so much of what I value in my life, and he offers me a blueprint for growing meaningfully as an artist. ‘Go inside yourself, if you really must...
August The people around me - not just Patrick Bateman in American Psycho, which I’m currently audibling - so often prove a disappointment. Family members, workmates, the neighbours – one whose dog cries because he’s cooped up all day, another whose dog barks too much, upending...