A. Among other things, I assembled modular furnishings for NORAD, cooked in countless restaurants (well, four), went to libraries dressed as Clifford the Big Red Dog, transcribed interviews for Jean Stein, played in a punk band with an 11-year-old, and wrote for magazines.
A. Writing novels.
A. I went to the University of South Carolina undergrad and Hunter College for my MFA.
A. I am trying to get back to sleep.
A. I'm presently accepting submissions.
A. A two-bedroom apartment, my wife and kid. I’m starting on the next novel and the next one and the next one.
A. In dry socks.
A. My wife.
A. I’m interested in attaining powers that, while not qualifying as “super,” are arguably “exceptional.” For instance: partial invisibility, the ability to shrink to three-quarters my normal size, or the dragonlike capacity for breathing fire, but only through my nose, and only enough to light a cigarette.
A. Whatever reflected virtues I get from my son.
A. I'd like to sit quietly in a corner of the cave when the first human said the first word for love.
A. That nutrient powder that tastes like anything you can think of, whatever that's called.
A. That pure sine wave that sounds like any song you can think of, whatever that's called. Also, I like the Kinks.
A. I wanted to pit a delusion against a widely accepted truth and see which one survived under scrutiny. The belief in an ancient undersea civilization, the policies of Donald Rumsfeld: which one is fantasy, and which is more dangerous? Plus, I wish I had man-gills.