The Man at the Next Table

The plan is to hang out with my son, helping him with his second-grade homework, before picking up his brother at an after-school program. We find a neighborhood diner – small, clean and as one would expect for a mid-weekday afternoon, almost empty. We sit in a booth, unpack his work materials, negotiate what he can eat (either chicken fingers or French fries, not both), and begin. Read more [...]

Any Idiot Can’t Do This. Only Some Idiots.

Recently, in the space of three days, two different people said to me – in the course of an otherwise unexceptional conversation, apropos of nothing – that they had dreams of being a writer. Both of them are in their fifties, which meant they’ve been doing something else for the better part of three decades (but hey, no one remains with the same company anymore, so why stick with the same profession?). Those of you who are writers probably know what came next: the questions. Those questions. Read more [...]