I’ve resisted writing a small squib here about my writing since it’s so central to my life, but I guess I have to put down something.
I started off writing songs, but I couldn’t for the life of me sing on key. The music chunked along, the words flowed. I loved Bob Dylan, then I discovered James Joyce and T.S. Eliot, the Dylans of their day—and writing fiction and poetry consumed me.
I wrote incessantly, then I wrote more. When I moved to Manhattan from California and started working at The New Yorker magazine, I wrote a novel in the morning before work, then stories and poems on downtime in the typing pool. (The whole experience is chronicled fictionally in a new novel, Savage Joy.)
The first thing I had published was a short poem in The New Yorker. Further stories ended up in places such as The Atlantic, The Sewanee Review, and the O. Henry Prize Story Collection.
Years ago I put my passion for music and love of literature together. I began to write what I call musical novels, fictions set in musical worlds, in prose pulsed with rhythm and rising and falling like melody. To encourage the concept of musical fiction, I founded Coral Press, devoted to the genre.
Below are links to some of my novels, followed by their covers.