A long time ago I attended a graduate program in creative writing where I studied with Raymond Carver. Since then I have done a lot of fringe theatre, such as a complete staged reading of At Swim-Two-Birds, Flann O’Brien’s wildly comic post-Joycean novel. I’ve also produced and directed spoken-word performances, both onstage and in audio recordings; created (and remixed) an experimental podcast; wrote software training programs and radio comedy for a living, along with lots of back-end code for web pages.

For a long time after grad school I wasn’t interested in prose fiction as a genre, especially not the surgical portrayals of middle-class desperation in the tradition of Joyce’s Dubliners which Raymond Carver so admired and so brilliantly executed himself; I worked through some of my conflicted feelings by memorizing and performing Joyce’s “A Little Cloud” as pub theatre; along the way I wrote, performed, and published a trio of “Plays for One Actor” in verse. When the fiction of Roberto Bolaño began to appear in English, I devoured it, and began writing fiction again, with a schedule and some discipline.