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From "December" Most of my memories are organized and stowed away like so many snapshots, and as I flip through the album of my mind, I am struck by the difference between childhood memories and recent ones. Of course, to a certain extent this is to be expected; our experiences as adults are different from our experiences as children, as are our interpretations of events... (read more) From "Another Family Story?" I am often asked why I keep writing about families. The truth is, I don't do it on purpose. I always start out writing about something else: in Baker Towers, the tragic decline of a mining town; in Mrs. Kimble, a mysterious drifter who steals women's hearts... (read more) From "Too Many of the Dominant Animal?" It's been four decades since The Population Bomb was published in May of 1968, and we've recently had occasion to revisit the topic of the human future. Writing our new book, The Dominant Animal: Human Evolution and the Environment, which tells where humanity came from... (read more) From "Timekeeper" A few days ago, an old friend handed me a watch that no longer keeps time. It's plain looking, a timepiece from the 1970s, with a solid silver-plated body and a linked wristband. It has a blue face and white arms stopped at 12:04. The date is becoming Monday the 10th (of which month, and which year?). "It was Paul's," my friend said. "I don't know what to do with it. Maybe it will mean something to you." (read more) From "The Darker Side" As a writer, I am always being asked: 'Where do your ideas come from?' Sadly, there is no simple answer. But when those moments of inspiration strike, as if from nowhere, often when I am in the oddest of places, it is one of the greatest excitements of my day... (read more) From "No One is Safe" Shooting War is the story of an indie-media heartthrob named Jimmy Burns. The year is 2011, and the Brooklyn-based videoblogger gets his big break as he happens to be uploading a live rant in front a Starbucks when a suicide bomber blows the coffee joint to kingdom come... (read more)
From "Closing the Invisible Distance" |
From "Big-League Doom: Stephen King's Apocalypses" This is what happened. In the fall of 2006, the Avalon Books spring preview catalog came out. The page devoted to The Apocalypse Reader, an anthology I was editing, contained several errors, not least among them the inclusion of Stephen King's name on the list of contributors. Much to my chagrin and despite my placing several irate phone calls and emails this misinformation resurfaced again at publication time on the websites of internet booksellers. (Powell's, I'm happy to note, was the first to post the correct information after I sent it to them.)... (read more) From "Tea and the Writing of The Teahouse Fire" If I had known that Japanese tea ceremony was a living art, I would have studied it in college: I grew up with my mother's enthusiasm for Japan and majored in Performance Studies, a cross-cultural mix of anthropology, theater, and religion. And, then as now, I loved tea: my college best friend and I held a tea every Friday afternoon... (read more) From "One Size Does Not Fit All" I knew I would write this book, way back when I was 12 years old and my grandmother refused to let me visit her in Florida unless I lost ten pounds. Knew I would write it the second I set foot on the grounds of Camp Colang, the very first Weight Watchers camp I attended in 1984, when I was 16 and wanting to lose 20 pounds... (read more) From "The Way We Looked Then" There was a time in my girlhood when all I wanted was to be beautiful. Of course, there have always been girls who share this dream, but I believe in my case it was more pronounced. This may have had something to do with having an attractive mother, whose looks were often commented on when I was growing up... (read more) From "I Was Not a Nice Little Girl" I was not a nice little girl. My favorite summertime hobby was stunning ants and feeding them to spiders. My preferred indoor diversion was a game called Mean Aunt Rosie, in which I pretended to be a witchy caregiver and my cousins tried to escape me... (read more) From "The Grand Guignol 'Hood" I'm walking the drab, cavernous corridors of the Los Angeles County Coroner's Office. Witchy purple light flickers from those Flintrol Insect Electrocutors. I put on booties, plastic gloves, a plastic apron, a filtered 3M mask that is supposed to protect against airborne pathogens... (read more) |








