I'm wonderfully self-lacerating, probably to my character's detriment. I'm terribly open to critique.
My medium is prose, not the novel.
Genre is a minimum security prison.
The beauty of reality-based art - art underwritten by reality hunger - is that it's perfectly situated between life itself and (unattainable) "life as art".
Our culture is obsessed with real events because we experience hardly any.
Nonfiction, qua label, is nothing more or less than a very flexible (easily breakable) frame that allows you to pull the thing away from narrative and toward contemplation, which is all I've ever wanted.