Interview with Paul Semel re. punching Space Nazis.
We’re all isolating as close contacts at the moment, so it’s a lucky thing that modern book pimping is all about the interwebz. Here’s a little Q&A I did with Paul Semel for The Shattered Skies.
We’re all isolating as close contacts at the moment, so it’s a lucky thing that modern book pimping is all about the interwebz. Here’s a little Q&A I did with Paul Semel for The Shattered Skies.
It is definitely a weird thing being published in Australia by a publisher from the UK. The Shattered Skies officially dropped everywhere in the British Empire and her subject dominions today, and I've been busy doing promo work, but it's all online and mostly organised by my US publishing house.
It's a funny old business, launching a book in the middle of a pandemic. Feels sort of disconnected. The Shattered Skies drops tomorrow, and I have to admit I thought it was next week. Once upon a time that wouldn't have been possible. Once upon a time we used to have book launches, and book tours, and rounds of media interviews and appearances all of them locked in months in advance.
On the first work day of each year I like to spend the day meandering around my office, scratching my arse pondering what the future will bring, or more accurately how I can shape it to deliver the things I like — royalty cheques, big advances, gold plated hovercraft.
I dunno why I do this to myself every year. But I do. It usually starts in September, when I’m looking at my project board and thinking, “Fuck yeah! Heaps of time.” And Christmas is on a Saturday?
Bonus! I can literally work right up until the fat man sings.
This is not a barbecue blog now, promise. There just happens to be a lot of barbecue in my life right now. Today, I reverse-seared steak. A couple of weeks ago I didn't even know what that meant.
Hell, a couple of weeks ago I rarely cooked steak because—confession time—I'm kind of crap at it.
But yesterday Thomas brought home a massive chunk of ribeye that his boss had given him for Christmas. (Good boss, late-stage capitalism might not be doomed after all.)
Renay Mandel Corren
El Paso, TX—A plus-sized Jewish lady redneck died in El Paso on Saturday.
A couple of weeks ago, while I was waiting for my Big Green Egg to fall from heaven, I spent a bit of money tooling up for barbecue life. One of the spendier purchases I made was a wireless Meater probe.
Continuing this weeks series of techno-posts, I appear to have forgotten how to reverse any car lacking a rear-facing camera. It’s been a while since I drove my old Hyundai shitbox, but I had reason to yesterday. I drove down the Post Office to pick up my new meat thermometer. This bad boy…