Publishing

Robert Olen Butler and A Small Hotel

Robert Olen Butler (A Small Hotel) I mean being a writer is like being a psychoanalyst, but you don’t get any patients.   Al Alvarez [caption id="attachment_488" align="alignleft" width="75" caption="Robert Olen...
A subway platform with a deceptive advertisement reading 'Hang on... I think it might be a trap.'

Sense of Deception

I write about deception not to train the reader in its arcane arts, but to research my novels. There is deception in nearly any situation you can think of––nature, business,...
Spirit Falls-Russian Text_page-0001

Spirit Falls in Russian

Sergei has sent me the first chapters of his Russian translation of Spirit Falls (Дух в Водопаде?  Те, кторые говорят по русски, предлогайте еще название книги), which I have posted...
A subway platform with a deceptive advertisement reading 'Hang on... I think it might be a trap.'

This Web Log is about…

The purpose of this website is to make sense of the liars whom I've lived and worked for, among, and against. There are moments when I shake with rage at...
A logo with the text 'Liar's Path' and footsteps crossing a red circular line.

Towards the next novel

March 15, 2011And on reading War and Peace (Tolstoi), On War (Clausewitz) and War (Sun Tsu) Having just finished the first draft of the novel "Wounded," I have been thinking...
Numerous pink flamingo lawn ornaments scattered on green grass near a building.

History 419, 42 years later

September 7, 2010 A clap of thunder ricochets down Park Street in the space between the Mosse Humanities Building and Chadbourne Hall. Winds off Lake Mendota drive sheets of cold...
A man in a coat stands near bodies on a wet city street during wartime.

for whom I write

Siege of Leningrad In the winter of 2008-2009, Patrice and I taught English in Moscow to young Russian business people between the ages 25-40. English is the world language of...
A serene field with autumn-colored trees under a clear blue sky.

On the Edge of Things

To grow up in the northwoods was to grow up on the edge of things. On Mother's day, Highway 17 filled with cars heading north past patches of dirty snow...