It’s been about eleven years since I wrote the short story, that I turned into a screenplay, that I turned into a novel that would eventually be called The Prostitutes of Lake Wiishkoban. As I went through each step of that process, realizing that I had much more to tell of that story than would fit in anything smaller than a full-length book, I began to fear the effort it would take to produce all those words, a task unlike anything I’d ever done as…

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Summer hasn’t quite come to Wisconsin yet, but it should finally get here tomorrow. Temperatures around these parts have been slightly below average these past couple of weeks, reminding me of mid-spring weather back home in Toledo, and that’s definitely a good thing for my mood. Mid-spring weather was always my favourite in Toledo, that longest span of the year when everyone can keep their windows open twenty-four hours a day and no one runs their air conditioners, so the smells of new flora follow…

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For a few years around the turn of the millennium, the main clock at my father’s office was one of those clocks that broadcast a different bird’s call from its speaker for each of the twelve hours. The idea behind getting that clock for the office was to help us all be more aware of time, since it’s easy to tune out the same chiming sound , no matter how many (or few) times it’s made at the top of each hour. Maybe our brains…

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