San Antonio this week (6/14-17), DC next week (6/22-24), laptop at the ready. I hope the change of scenery gets me writing thoughtfully again. But I’ll likely spend the evenings wrecked on margaritas.
I received a manuscript in the mail yesterday, about 100 pages, double-spaced, which I’m working my way through this morning. It’s a strangely compelling collection of short fiction, a little reminiscent of Charles Portis, but with less of the dry absurdism, and more of a nostalgia for a locale and an era that I’m not very familiar with. I’ll read the last story on the flight this afternoon, along with Moneyball, by Tabitha Soren’s husband.
