Brain Candy Sale

Special Offers see all

Enter to WIN a $100 Credit

Subscribe to
for a chance to win.
Privacy Policy

Visit our stores


Authors, readers, critics, media — and booksellers.


Author Archive: "Nick Flynn"


In the first few days afterward, this is what I heard: Alternate warm moist heat with ice packs. Then I heard don't use ice. Then I heard don't use heat. Then I heard potassium, which meant bananas. I heard calcium, which meant milk. I heard vitamin K — I still don't know what that means. Henry, raising his arms above his head, told me to hang like this from a bar. Henry then said to hang upside down from the same bar. If you do this, he said, as he passed me my egg sandwich, you will never have any problems. Someone had a chiropractor who was magic, someone had an acupuncturist. I went to both. The chiropractor said to come back the next day, I went back the next day. The pain got worse. Now I couldn't put on my own shoes. I began Advil, two at a time. I tried to wait six hours between doses.

What happened? some asked. I said I'd just come off a weeklong head cold, that I'd been run-down. I got on a small plane and flew to Dallas ...

Day Five

[Editor's Note: Don't miss Nick Flynn reading from his memoir The Ticking Is the Bomb at Powell's City of Books on Friday, January 29th, at 7:30pm. Click here for details.]

I live in airports. I live on pre-made sandwiches, I hope they are not all made in China. I hope they haven't traveled that far. Every morning I wake up at five, on a friend's couch, someone comes and takes me to the airport. It's all very glamorous. The book tour is really just beginning. I didn't pace myself, I was burnt out by the first day, wayworn the first day. Yet, moved more than I imagined I'd be. So many hands have kept me afloat.

Day Four

[Editor's Note: Don't miss Nick Flynn reading from his memoir The Ticking Is the Bomb at Powell's City of Books on Friday, January 29th, at 7:30pm. Click here for details.]

I was in Boston last night, doing back-to-back readings at the Berklee School of Music, 939 Café. My pals Tom Johnston and Joyce Linehan put it together — both are geniuses and incredibly generous. Before each set there were two opening musical acts: the first set was Drew O'Doherty, followed by Eric Martin (of The Neats). The second set opened with The Franc Graham Band, followed by Buffalo Tom. Do yourself a favor and find all these musicians and pony up a few ducats and download their songs.

Day Three

At the first official reading, at Brazos (one of the great independent bookstores, in Houston), during the Q&A, I was asked why I used the name "Inez" instead of my partner's real name, when it's pretty obvious who Inez is. My answer was that when I tried writing using her real name, I found I couldn't. The pseudonym made it clear to me that I was creating a character, that it is impossible to place ourselves, or our loved ones, in the memoir itself. This also freed me. Its not that I invented anything "Inez" did, but, for the purpose of the memoir, she was necessary only insofar as she moved the story along. In real life, of course, "Inez" exists in many, many dimensions. The person who asked this question had a follow-up question, which was: what does Inez think about being in the memoir. My answer was that one of the projects of the memoir, and maybe of memoir itself, is to track how slippery our thoughts are, how they shift and readjust, how, if we're lucky, we barely hold on ...

Day Two

Houston. Today, as I write this, is Martin Luther King Day, though you will read this the following day. Today is the official release date of The Ticking Is the Bomb. I'm reading at Brazos tonight (by the time you read this I will have already read at Brazos, such is the way of writing in advance of the actual moment — perhaps by tomorrow the day will line up with the moment).

Day One

Hello everyone,

I'll be here for a week, on this site — blogging, a first, for me. But where is my body? When I first wrote this, it, I, my body, was in Florida, in the midst of its coldest snap in its history — three-foot long iguanas, I heard, several times, were falling dead from palm trees. When I first wrote this, I'd jumped the gun, started a week early, and I am now revising what I wrote then, since it seems a blog should at least gesture toward immediacy.

  • back to top


Powell's City of Books is an independent bookstore in Portland, Oregon, that fills a whole city block with more than a million new, used, and out of print books. Shop those shelves — plus literally millions more books, DVDs, and gifts — here at