For when I finally ditch this speculative fiction nonsense and buckle down to write a True Work of Mopey Bastardery. Can’t you sense my pain? My sad, bearded pain?
I think this shall be the book that I write for this author photo:
It shall be a stunning examination of the emptiness of the human condition. But with allegory! Because it can’t be a True Work of Mopey Bastardery without allegory. And quiet, desperate alcoholism. Also, meaningful silences. And pie. Allegorical pie.
I’m going to put on some Okkervil River and get right to work! Wish me luck!