It felt a bit…uncanny walking through the Phillips Exeter campus because it reminded me of Aberdeen College (from my first novel Gods of Aberdeen). Uncanny because there is no actual Aberdeen College and even more uncanny (perhaps Baudrillardian would be more accurate?) because I hadn’t visited Exeter before, yet it felt very familiar, like an extended bout of deja vu. The brick buildings, the arches, the starburst paths in the quad—I recognized them all. I’d imagined them thousands of times (no exaggeration) while writing GOA, and there they were.

(notice the whiff of self-absorption; that’s what deja vu has always felt like, as though reality is centered around my perception of it and everything familiar can only be so because I imagined it first)

This is what some of the campus looks like, and because I’m a terrible photographer, I’ve taken this photo from here:

The bell tower rang and its echo was mighty.

We discussed fairy tales, or rather one fairy tale, which is how I explain plot and plotting techniques. Fairy tales are perfect representations of three-act structure; time (especially within the oral tradition) tends to cut out all the fat and leave nothing  but muscle, tendon and bone.

Here’s a shot from the NU reading, complete with that awesome poster, the student who designed it (to my immediate left) and the student who organized the event. I’m the guy who looks like me.

My publicists are working on a NY reading, time and energy-contingent, perhaps sometime in late February/early March. Way back there was a brief discussion of holding it at a Murakami gallery (because I love his work and thought it would be…I don’t know, kind of cool) but there were licensing issues and debates as to how the books would be sold, so we dropped it. Sort of. I’m still hoping for a non-traditional venue. Not Murakami but something different than the usual bookstore. Vague enough? I think so.

Harney & Sons makes an excellent iced tea. Rachel picked up a bottle at our local rest stop for gourmands, and I finished the whole thing in one sitting. It may not sound like an endorsement, but I’m not a caffeine guy, and I have this irrational fear of black tea staining my teeth. H&S overcame all hesitations. A perfect blend of tannic bitterness and five grams of sugar will do that.

Yes, I’m still searching for the perfect severed head prop. I’ve narrowed it down to a few choice selections–they must have that elusive balance of stiff hair, rot-exposed teeth, sallow skin, and anatomical realism. Photos will be uploaded when the quest is complete. Or not. I’m still not convinced this is a good idea. What will the neighbors say?

What else. I had a Throwback Thursdays Halloween special all planned, and then a nearly-completed short story died on the vine. I thought it was a decent idea made mediocre by poor execution. It was not. The poor execution was the result of a bad idea. These things happen. So the TT article will arrive at the end of November, consistent with my belief that Halloween should last for one month.

Every now and then I attempt to remind my readers that not all writers are soft-skinned sedentary-types. Some of us engage in manly pursuits, like brush-clearing. To wit:

Yes, that’s my boulder and my forest. Last year we cleared brush in preparation for the stone wall. I used a cordless saw and wore appropriate flannel. The hairy vine snaking up that elm in the background? Poison ivy. When left alone, poison ivy becomes monstrous. It becomes hairy. How cool is that?

(this picture reminds me of my need for a new camera, BTW)

My co-worker is Ted Wyman. He actually likes manual labor. I choose my friends wisely.

I’m working on a piece for LEMON magazine’s next issue, courtesy of Editor-in-chief/creative genius Kevin Grady. Stay tuned. Their last issue–the one focusing on Bowie–was ridiculously good.

A double posting? Wha? It’s Halloween. I’m excited. I love scary movies and severed heads.

A few years ago I started obsessing severed heads. Not real ones. The traveling-freakshows-in-a-jar severed heads. Pay a buck and peek behind the curtain; there sits the head of some famous criminal/intrepid explorer, preserved in an old apothecary jar. Bloated face, milky eyes, swirling hair–what’s not to love?

And then we moved to the ‘burbs (okay, maybe Holliston is more rural-chic) and Rachel said it was a very bad idea for me to buy my own fake-head-in-a-jar. It’s the ‘burbs, and people talk. What better gossip, than the writer who works in his shed, and counts among his muses a decayed head, floating in amber liquid?

Terrific gossip. So I delayed the dream, yet again. Sometimes I’d poll one of my friends: Would you find it weird if you stepped into my writing shed, and saw a head in a jar, sitting on the shelf?

Yes, they would. Do I care? Not really. But I do care about my wife, and if it makes her uneasy, I can’t do it. She’s patient enough. Maybe next year, once the neighborhood realizes I’m as boring as every other writer out there. Except the ones who think they’re fascinating; those are the really boring ones.

Anyway. My name is Micah Nathan, and I have moderate sleep apnea. This means I stop breathing, on average, 18 times per hour. Last night I slept with a CPAP machine. This morning I awakened as if superhuman. Seriously–I haven’t felt this energetic and well-rested in…well, in forever. The CPAP is my new god.

I already mentioned it, but it’s worth a re-mention: Memphis is Burning has been delayed to Spring 2011. Same great publisher, same tour plans (from Buffalo to Memphis), different publication date. Am I disappointed? Of course. Pub. dates get me excited. Am I confident the delay will result in a better publication? Yes. My editor left Random House, which meant his projects got backlogged. Thanks to trusty agent Jud Laghi and my new editor, MIB remains in excellent hands.

The graphic novel plans. Ah, they remain shrouded in mystery. But here’s something–we have an artist attached. Strike that–we have an amazing artist attached. He did all the illustration work for Raekwon’s latest video. He calls himself 1000styles. And he is…wait for it…wait for it…fresher than fresh.

Okay. Time to hook up the scuba equipment. CPAP, I am thy humble servant.

In the interest of convenience and self-promotion–always a treat when those two collide–I’m posting a link to my most recent short story, Simulacrum.

For those of you keeping track, Simulacrum was a finalist for Diagram Magazine’s Innovative Fiction Award. Accolades are nice when they come, because they never come often enough.

Onward. We’re switching to a new server–this means more speed and less impatience (theoretically). This should also mean more frequent updates (theoretically). Can I use graduate school as an excuse for the sporadic postings? I didn’t think so. There is some law–”law” in the this-always-happens sense, not in the legal sense–that states a project will always take whatever length of time is given.

At first, I thought “Well, duh.” But at second, I thought “Hmm.” Maybe that explains my inability to finish anything early, school-wise. Having established my own (successful) deadlines for nearly seven years, I’m shocked at my procrastination. Then it hit me: they were my deadlines. The old anti-authoritarian streak rears its rebel head.

An example of what happens when bad writing meets bad everything else:

One last thing, and it’s kind of important: the publication date for Memphis is Burning has been pushed to early 2011. The good news is we’re getting galleys early. So I can post potential covers, and you can comment as needed.