Writer Baby Onesies

A Dog Speaks To Another Dog In Front Of A Closed

Thank Goodness You're Here - I Can't Accomplish

Philip Larkin Wouldn't Like

Thomas Pynchon's Evil Twin

New Yorker May 2nd, 1977

It's About Sex And Revenge

Yes, But What I Really Want To Do Is Write

Write About Dogs

I Don't Just Want To Write. I Want

We're Terribly Excited - Macaulay Culkin

Thank You For Letting Us Consider The Enclosed

I'll Just Have A Diet Coke. I'm In The Middle

Cute, But We're Up To Our Belly Buttons

Pickets Down Pencils Up

A Mother Speaks To Her Son

It's Publish Or Perish

'thirty Days In A Single Scull.' Day 17:

Great. You've Touched All The Bases

New Yorker September 30th, 1991

Why Can't He Just Hibernate

I'm Not Solzhenitsyn

Lucy Tells Me You're A Writer. I'm No Stranger

How Do You Spell That Word 'ennui' ?

New Yorker December 14th, 1987