SMELL THE ROSES

One of life’s lovely moments last night. I suppose they’re what we live for: I just felt it kicking; A drink? I’d love to; And the bonus ball is… They don’t happen often, which is the way it should be. I remember Chris (of publisher Salt) giving us a frank yet inspirational talk when he visited our creative writing program some years ago. I, naively, said to myself: Right, I’m gonna write you a collection you can’t ignore. And in a way, I suppose I did, though I worked harder and longer on it than the novel.

The MA gave me my love affair with the short story, as we discovered Carver, Proulx, Trevor and many more. They say people don’t buy collections as much as their longer relative. They also say the short story is having a revival, which is exciting. I’ve been meaning to blog for ages about why some voracious readers of fiction hardly go near collections. Perhaps I will now. For me, they’ve perhaps just not read the best out there – always a good place to begin. This might be a good time to direct you to Salt, then. That is one funky website. Their books (and I’ve said this before last night) are stunning, beautifully presented - the finest new literary fiction out there. Have a look; there’s even a sale on at the moment. Buying a book from Salt, you also get to feel a smug warmness inside that you’re supporting an important venture, a publishing trailblazer amid the morass of mainstream commercial silt that is washed our way. (Come the summer, you’ll be able to buy mine (#removes trumpet from mouth#).)

Right, back to the kitchen; there are plans afoot to have a sink in by the end of today.