Sad dad band personality types.
God this is good writing. Over at McSweeney’s.
Some faves that really spoke to me, man:
Bon Iver
Perhaps the most accurate term to apply to your situation is “seriously injured and lost in the woods.”
Pavement
Articles from Cheeseburger Gothic
Primary tabs
Spoileriffic discussion thread for TSS coming next Monday.
I have to let enough readers in the US finish it first.
In the meantime, I did a guest blog for Marshal Zeringue about what I was reading while I was writing.
John le Carre’s Smiley novels:
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.
Launch day!
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.
Launch day. T minus 1.
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.
Best laid plans.
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.
Christmas crush.
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.
Reverse seared rib eye
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.)