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My selfie stick is just a regular stick, but when I see someone taking a selfie I poke them with it.
I generally prefer fiction to memoir because there’s always a better chance, however slight, of a giant robot attack on the next page.
In the hot new reality show The Bachelard, a houseful of philosopher contestants compete to interpret the material space they share.
When Halloween comes, remind me I want to go as Linked In. I’ll just knock on the same door over and over.
How do I turn off "track changes" in my mirror?
Had to take down the birch tree where my agent lives (you’ll recall he’s a squirrel). Hope I don’t come to regret this, professionally.
My daughter says my new glasses make me look like I know what I’m talking about. So I’ll have to keep them through her teen years.
“The characters in this novel did not grow at all! The font was the same size at the beginning as the end. One star."
Fun fact: There isn’t a single personal essay left online that hasn’t been referred to as “brave” by someone on Twitter.
Books happen because of the publishing business; literature happens despite it.
If you’re telling more or less the same story as every third writer in the queue, the impetus for reading needs to come from style.
My book’s out tomorrow, so my agent—who you’ll recall is a squirrel—left some holly berries & a chewed acorn at my door to mark the event.
Watching Charlie Brown Thanksgiving with my daughter, who'll never quite get the scene with kids all piled in the rear of a station wagon.
I’ve just heard that FRAM has gone to the printer, to become an actual book. Cue the anxious, nervous waiting music.
Father, teacher, writer, editor, cheeseburger enthusiast. My second novel FRAM is coming from @igpublishing in Jan 2015.
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