Wednesday, December 13, 2006


Critics of mine say I'm not a writer. Am I a writer? Who knows? I know how to put words on pages and blog posts.

Anyone can write a novel. Look at the well-hyped award-winning mind-numbing trash of the literary establishment.

Fiction isn't my greatest strength (it could be my least), but when I see ingenues like Marisha Pessl receiving a million dollars for stuporous crap I may as well throw my own hat into the ring.

Look for the opening section of my own big novel appearing here soon. . . . It will be one tiny piece of a much larger picture; will focus on one character out of a hundred; but will still, maybe, give an impression of the greater work which resides inside my head. What do I bring to a novel? Only my volubility and the scars of my experiences, of which I've had a few.

(After posting the excerpt I go into full promotional mode of our upcoming actions and of two new ULA novels which ARE finished and will be appearing in bookstores soon.)

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