Hot on the platen of my Smith-Corona Coronet, a chapter serving to "sign" the work begins to emerge. Who is this Ed Desautels, anyway? [If you keep clicking the photo, you'll eventually find a size you can comfortably read.]
Yesterday, I began a series of posts examining my novel in progress, Housebreaking the Muse. As I noted, the manuscript has hit a kind of critical mass, so I’ve begun analyzing it for clues concerning the work I'm trying to accomplish and how I'm going about it. As I said, I prefer the work of…
More than 200 pages into my novel Housebreaking the Muse, I’m starting to look for clues concerning the work it’s trying to accomplish. You see, I try not to force themes, but rather discover them as the work unfolds, then refine my ideas through the revision process. I know the notion is likely not much…
A Quiet De Luxe, it is, banged together by a worker preoccupied with discovering the subconscious mechanism by virtue of which his recurring nightmare of The Battle of the Bulge accommodated the delicate gesture made every day by the newspaper guy he passed on Farmington Avenue, a beseeching and weary opening of the hand that…
This summer has been regrettably saturated, disruptive, and shambolic. Pulled by life in too many directions, I've been operating in a fog where everything gets some of my attention but never the amount it deserves. It has been, for me, a failed summer. And, oh yes, the world seems to have gotten even madder (are…
Ed Desautels' Maximum Fiction 