The Ending is Everything

That's where it begins; that pen. Sure, there are notes on my phone, thoughts dumped onto my Mac, sentences and half sentences that will probably never make sense to me again (though did once, probably had something like perfect clarity when I was drunk once, or saw something glimmer out of the corner of my eye and thought, right, that's it! As what it might actually be scurries quietly out of sight), but give me a notebook and my old Cross pen and I can waste endless pages trying to get to someone or something.

Happily, it usually ends with something concrete, something publishable, something tangible. Firstly, Cross Country Murder Song, then The Death and Life of Red Henley and now, the next one, the new one, though it doesn't feel very new to me anymore. Though I hope it feels like a fresh and exciting new novel to you. Dark? Certainly. Literary? I hope so. It's lyrical and sombre and funny and there are scenes that are almost certain to make you want to throw the book in a thresher. Though hopefully you'll persist. I did and I think it's sad and funny and not without hope. A little like me at 4am when I can't sleep and I'm listening for sounds outside, like there might still be a world beyond the window, and something to connect to.

Anyway, here we are, new website, a new book, something to say, now I finally feel like saying something again. Just the last chapter to build and then set free and see where it all lands. Then to New York, a train snaking across country to LA and then up to Toronto to see some of my favourite people in the world. Some new journeys, some new people, perhaps one or two final goodbyes. I'm sure I'll chart at least some of it here. Writing it down, I've discovered, is the only way any of it makes sense to me. You know, it's good to see you again.