Archives for July 2016

Linda Fairstein is known to millions of readers. Her Alexandra Cooper novels are international and New York Times bestsellers and have been translated into more than a dozen languages.

In Killer Look, the 18th novel featuring Alex Cooper, Linda takes the reader into the rarified and glamorous world of high fashion. But high fashion means ultra-high stakes. When murder rocks New York City’s Fashion Week, Alex, along with Detectives Mike Chapman and Mercer Wallace, strives to expose the culprit lurking among the media, strutting supermodels and celebrity attendees. It’s a beauty-driven, tension-filled game involving the ruthless denizens of billion dollar empires with far-flung tentacles in Paris, Milan, and London.

As usual, this Alex Cooper novel, like its predecessors, explores an iconic New York City feature or landmark. In Killer Look, you focus on the New York fashion scene. Tell us a little about it.

I’m known for doing research such as when I explore an institution or some aspect of New York City, but this was so different because I’d never known the high-end fashion world or its fiercely competitive business component. This novel isn’t based on a specific building or landmark, but rather it takes place in a special section of the city. Actually, there’s very little left of the one square mile of the garment district. Many of the businesses have been outsourced, so I didn’t have many physical structures in which to set the story. I ended up using other places connected to the fashion industry, such as the Temple of Dendur at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Those are two of the places where glamorous fashion shows take place.

Nowadays, fashion shows are attempts by the companies to outdo each other. Some take place on the Chelsea piers, others opt for museums or some quirky venue. It’s more freewheeling now, so I was able to create my own timetable and use my own locations for this fictional fashion world.

 I was struck by the cutthroat nature of the fashion industry as depicted in the novel.

I did a great deal of research about it. I always looked at the glamor end of the fashion industry, but it’s become far more cutthroat, especially with the global aspect of the industry. It’s such rich material for a crime novelist to explore and was a perfect setting for the novel.

 In Killer Look, Alex is suffering the aftereffects of events from the previous novel, Devil’s Bridge. Tell us about that.

In Devil’s Bridge, Alex was kidnapped. That book begins through Alex’s eyes but after 50 pages, Mike Chapman takes over as the protagonist. Alex has spent her career prosecuting criminals who committed sexual and domestic violence, and that involved her being sensitive to victims’ recoveries. However, in Killer Look, Alex herself is recovering from having been a victim, so the reader can see that Alex, who’s been very strong throughout the first seventeen books, has been profoundly impacted by an experience similar to those of victims with whom she dealt in the earlier books. I wanted readers to see how vulnerable Alex was after her traumatic experience in Devil’s Bridge. I wanted her to be much more than some kind of unidimensional “super-woman.”

In Killer Look, a fascinating method of either murder or suicide is described. Tell us about that.

I’m smiling because if you’re writing crime novels, you always struggle with how best to kill someone. [Laughter] I’ve used many of the traditional methods, and I’m always looking for something different. A great friend, Fern Mallis, the head of Fashion Designers of America was my guide through the fashion world.

As for homicide methods, I have a friend who’s now retired from the NYPD, but who was a young lieutenant when I was a prosecutor. He’s the smartest cop I’ve ever known. He helped me with police procedures in Devil’s Bridge. For Killer Look, Jimmy told me about a method of assisted suicide using a plastic bag filled with helium or other inert gases such as nitrogen, argon or methane. It’s a popular method in various states where assisted suicide is permitted because it’s painless and fast. It in a disturbing development, it could also be used in a homicide if it’s staged correctly.

After eighteen novels, has your writing process changed?

For the first few books, I began writing in longhand. I had a romantic notion to write with a pen and pad while I was sitting and looking out at the ocean. When I began using a computer, the process changed dramatically.

My actual writing process has evolved over time. I’ve learned how much of an outline to do, and I discovered that mornings are my best time of day to write. On certain writing days, my friends know not to telephone me before four o’clock in the afternoon because I’m busy writing.

Do you ever re-read your earlier novels? If so, how do they strike you now?

They strike me, quite honestly, as unpolished compared to what I write now. Final Jeopardy was my first novel and I love it the way a parent loves a first child. But I would so love to be able to go back and polish it up a bit. While writing the first five novels in the series, I was still a prosecutor. Writing back then was part-time, and took place between five and seven in the morning, or on weekends. In some ways, the fact that I was writing in my spare time is reflected in the earlier books.

I also learned things by reading many books, especially those by David Baldacci—for instance, ending every chapter on a suspenseful note, a cliffhanger. Now, in my own books, I try to end each chapter with a level of tension to propel the reader on to the next one.

Do you have a favorite among your novels?

I always think it’s the one I’m writing at the moment. [Laughter] I think that’s because I’m always excited about the novel I’m writing. The new baby is always the favorite.

If you could experience re-reading any one book as though you were reading it for the first time, which one would it be?

Wow! That’s a great question. For me, it would be Anna Karenina. I love the drama and tragedy of the storytelling. I first read it in high school, again in college, and two more times in my adult life. That’s the one I’d love to return to.

 What, if anything, keeps you awake at night?

A good book. [Laughter] I end almost every evening reading a good book.

 What’s coming next from Linda Fairstein?

Two things. Killer Look has a dramatic ending and I already know the opening of the next Alex Cooper book.

The other new development is this: as a kid, I grew up reading Nancy Drew books. My homage to Nancy Drew is a series I’ve begun writing for middle-grade children. The first book, Into the Lion’s Den is coming out in November. The sleuth is a twelve-year-old girl named Devlin Quick, whose mother is New York City’s first woman police commissioner, which gives Devlin access to various police resources.

Congratulations on writing Killer Look, a truly suspenseful novel rich in atmosphere and revealing the underbelly beneath the glitz and glamor of the New York and international fashion industry. It’s a fine example of why Nelson DeMille called you ‘One of the best crime fiction writers in America today.’

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I’ve had the opportunity to interview some of the most acclaimed authors on the planet. I enjoy asking them questions often tailored to their unique writing styles or fictional characters. There are some questions that apply almost universally to writers. One of my favorites is:

Do you procrastinate? And how do you deal with the nearly universal tendency to procrastinate?

Here are excerpted responses from very successful and prolific authors.

 Don Winslow: If I procrastinate or don’t write, I feel guilty. (Laughter). I should be home writing. I feel as though I’m shirking…it’s a strange kind of dysphoria. I try take Sundays off. I sort of get away with that because I feel like I’m improving myself (More laughter). ~ Talking about The Cartel

 Patricia Cornwell: I most certainly procrastinate. I absolutely have days where I’ll find every excuse under the sun not to sit at that desk and write. The reason is: writing scares me. It’s hard. And if the characters are being uncooperative, I just move words around uselessly. At times like that, I wonder who stole my characters. Or, I think they’ve gone on vacation. Talking about Depraved Heart

 Linwood Barclay: I’ve never been a procrastinator. Once I’m working on a project, I just want to get it finished. I find if I take too long writing a novel, I lose my sense of continuity and the flow suffers. I prefer to get immersed in it and keep going until it’s done. ~ Talking about Broken Promise

 Linda Fairstein: I’m a world class procrastinator. I can find things to do that boggle the mind. The hardest point in the process of writing a book is the beginning—the first hundred pages. There are so many diversions. I become more attached to the work about a quarter of the way in. Then I really get into it and it’s a race to the finish for the last three-quarters. ~ Talking about Devil’s Bridge

Jon Land: Everyone procrastinates to some extent. But creative procrastination is a positive thing. Some of my best ideas have come when I wasn’t sitting at the computer. I might be at the gym; or watching a movie; but these connect-the-dot moments arise from creative procrastination. ~ Taking about Strong Light of Day

Tess Gerritsen: I procrastinate all the time. It’s human nature. I write and stick to my schedule because I have a contract. If I didn’t have a book under contract, I would take my time. You know, there are so many distractions for a novelist, especially for those of us who are pulled in many directions by multiple passions. I could spend an entire year doing nothing but learning fiddle tunes. ~ Talking about Playing with Fire

 Barry Eisler: Procrastination is a continuous struggle. I have a good rationalization for it: I’m obsessed with political issues. There’s so much good commentary and discussion on the matters that interest me: politics, the rule of law, the media, government transparency, civil rights, and other issues. I read and blog about them. It takes a lot of time away from what would otherwise be my day-job—writing fiction. So, my rationalization for procrastinating is built in. My novels are so driven by real world events, I tell myself I’m really doing research. (Laughter). Talking about The God’s Eye View

Robert Crais: Yes, I procrastinate. The reality is—especially on a bad day, but really, on all days—writing is a job like any other. Only, you’re your own boss, and the boss, meaning you, must keep you the chair, focused and committed to getting the task accomplished. You have to consistently force yourself to keep writing. Talking about The Promise

Lisa Gardner: If I procrastinate, I get anxious and I feel I may not meet my deadline. I’m a very structured writer. I draft a novel in about six months. Then, I re-write. If I get behind schedule, my husband and daughter will tell you I’m not fun to live with. (Laughter). ~ Talking about Find Her

Alafair Burke: If procrastination were a competitive sport, I would get lots of medals. (Laughter). I try to keep enough structure in my life so I don’t miss deadlines. My idea of goofing off is going on Facebook to look at friends’ pictures. (Laughter). It helps that I still have a job as an attorney. I have a schedule and am forced to be mindful of time. Sometimes, I just have to compel myself write the next book. ~ Talking about The Ex

Reed Farrel Coleman: Procrastination is against my religion. (Laughter). Even as an undisciplined kid, I never procrastinated. I was always the first kid in class to give a speech when no one wanted to do it. I always felt waiting caused me more anxiety than doing something I didn’t want to do. I’m still that way. ~ Talking about Where it Hurts

Allison Gaylin: Procrastination can absolutely be a problem. (Laughter). That’s especially true with social media. I can fall into a hole on Facebook or looking at news stories online. I have to discipline myself. ~ Talking about What Remains of Me

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Ace Atkins, while working as a crime reporter for the Tampa Tribune, earned a Pulitzer Prize nomination for his coverage of a cold case from the 1950s. At age 27, his first novel, Crossroad Blues, was published and be became a full-time novelist at age 30.

MEMPHIS, TN.,12/1/07–Author Ace Atkins poses in the Arcade Resturant in Memphis. Photo/Jay Nolan

The Innocents is the sixth installment of his critically acclaimed Quinn Colson series. After a stint in Afghanistan where he trained local police, Quinn returns to his hometown of Jericho, Mississippi. Along a country road, an eighteen-year-old former high school cheerleader is found engulfed in flames; and there’s no shortage of suspects in her murder. Working with Lillie Virgil, the first woman sheriff in the state, Quinn and others sort through a web of intrigue and secrets, trying to bring justice to the town of Jericho.

One of the striking things about The Innocents and the other books in the series is how the town of Jericho almost becomes a character. Will you talk about setting?

I’m always struck by how many novels today focus on international intrigue and involve white-knight superheroes. While I enjoy reading them, I try to write a different kind of novel. I write about ordinary people living in a small town such as Jericho, Mississippi. I love capturing the atmosphere of Southern life with its unique ambience and everything that goes on—the good, the bad and the unexpected.

I also think one of the advantages of a series is the author can elaborate on the setting and the characters with each successive novel. I can expand and dig deeper with each novel. Six books into the series, Quinn Colson has become a more complex character, and Jericho’s corrupt underbelly has been more vividly exposed.

You anticipated my next question. In the Quinn Colson novels, is Jericho a microcosm of the larger world?

Yes, absolutely it is. You don’t have to be in Paris, London or New York, and you don’t have to write international thrillers to experience corruption, intrigue, brutality, and criminality. It’s as much a part of life in a small town as anywhere else.

So, as you said, the fictional town of Jericho is a microcosm of the larger world. And a protagonist like Quinn Colson has all the flaws and warts you would expect to find in people anywhere: he’s had a problematic off-again-on-again relationship with a married woman; has issues with work; and must sort out complicated relationships with his father and sister.

 The Innocents, as are all your other Quinn Colson novels, is peppered with authentic dialogue. Tell us how you approach writing dialogue.

I think dialogue is the engine driving a novel. It propels the story and bespeaks character. A novel’s characters are made real by their dialogue more than by anything else. I’ve always felt dialogue is not just what people say to each other; it’s what they do to each other with words. I love walking around and jotting down little bits of dialogue I overhear, whether it’s at the general store, standing in a supermarket line, or sitting in a restaurant.

Without trying to eavesdrop, I hear the most amazing bits and pieces of conversation, some of which I can fit in a novel.

A short while ago, while walking around, I heard a man and woman talking. From their conversation and the tones of their voices, it was clear they knew each other very well. She gave him a gentle punch on the shoulder and said, ‘How dare you sleep with another woman.’ He laughed and said, ‘What can you expect? I was in jail for a month.’ [Laughter]

By listening to conversations taking place anywhere, a writer can find a treasure trove of dialogue that might wind up in a novel.

 The Born Losers, a motorcycle gang, plays a significant role in The Innocents. Is any of this based on your observations of real-life people?

Some of what I try to capture in my writing is the way the South was back in the Seventies—motorcycle gangs, overt prejudice, and things like that. And I’ve always loved films like Easy Rider and I’ve done research on motorcycle gangs; but most of what appears in the Quinn Colson books is a product of my imagination.

 Quinn’s relationship with his father, Jason, is interesting. Tell us about that.

In the previous Quinn Colson novel, I decided to bring Jason Colson back. He was something of a ghost in Quinn’s life, having been largely absent when Quinn was growing up—Jason was a Hollywood stuntman living the fast life.

When I reintroduced Jason, I wasn’t really sure what to do with him. I didn’t have him sketched out as well as I’d have liked. I gave the script to a psychologist friend who made a very perceptive observation: he felt that as a Hollywood stuntman, Jason Colson had a risk-taking personality and that trait would permeate his lifestyle. So, Jason is a risk-taker, and gets immersed in various high-stakes ventures. True to form, in The Innocents, Jason wants to get involved in a huge land deal.

Because of Jason Colson’s absence all those years, he and Quinn don’t have a close relationship. In fact, it’s quite strained, as are many father-son relationships in real life.

 As a successful novelist, what’s the most important lesson you’ve learned about writing?

The most important thing is to work, work, work.

I work on my books every day except when I’m on vacation. To be a professional novelist means you want to improve with each project, and there’s no substitute for always working and trying to write better prose.

I’ve been doing this for almost twenty years, and it’s a constant struggle to keep at it and grow as a writer.

 What do you love most about the writing life?

Sometimes I love it and sometimes I hate it [Laughter].

I do love the freedom the writing life allows, but as a professional writer, I’ve got to make deadlines. I have to deliver a manuscript on time and it has to be good, sharp, and right. My editors expect a solid book, not a rough draft. So, while I love being my own boss, and having independence, the writing life also confers responsibilities.

 What’s coming next from Ace Atkins?

I’m working on my twentieth novel. It’s going to be my sixth Spenser novel. I’m overwhelmed by how accepting readers have been of my taking over the series after Robert B. Parker’s passing. Writing those books has been very satisfying.

Congratulations on penning The Innocents, another compelling and atmospheric Quinn Colson novel in a series about which John Sandford said, ‘With terrific, inflected characters and a dark, subtle sense of place and history, these are exceptional novels.’

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Patrick Flanery earned a B.F.A. in film at NYU and worked in the film industry before moving to the U.K, where he completed a doctorate in Twentieth-Century English Literature at Oxford. He has written for the Washington Post and the Times Literary Supplement, and is a professor of Creative Writing at the University of Reading. I Am No One is his third novel.

I Am No One features Jeremy O’Keefe, a divorced, middle-aged history and film lecturer at NYU, who has returned from the U.K. after spending a decade teaching at Oxford. He had left New York, his crumbling marriage, and young daughter after not receiving tenure at Columbia.  Now back in the city, he begins to receive a series of mysterious packages, each one containing seemingly incontrovertible evidence that every aspect of his digital life over the last ten years has been the subject of intense surveillance. At the same time, he repeatedly encounters a strange young man who appears to know exactly where Jeremy is going or has just been.

And who’s that darkly clothed figure Jeremy sees on so many nights peering at his apartment windows?

What is going on …. and why?

The reader is drawn into Jeremy’s world of possible paranoia and delusion; or is it one of a frightening level of all-encompassing surveillance?

On one level, I Am No One deals with the issue of surveillance, either by the state or by rogue players. Will you talk about that?

When I started writing the book, I didn’t set out to write a novel about surveillance. I was thinking about a moment I’d experienced in New York City. I was staying with a friend who was living in Silver Towers. I was on the street and looked up at her bedroom window. I waved to her, but she didn’t see me. I told her I’d seen her and it was the first time she’d been aware she was living a half-public life in her own apartment. That made me think of crafting a story about different kinds of intrusions into one’s private life. It made me want to explore the kind of characters who would be at the nexus of that experience. That led to a broader story about surveillance. It became a book about different kinds of watching and the experience of being watched—both on a personal level and in a larger, more abstract governmental way.

You can probably discuss this extensively: Is I Am No One a political thriller, a cautionary warning, an existential meditation of self and the world, or a combination of all three?

I think it can certainly be read with all three of those categories in mind. In some ways, the novel is trying to engage the possibility of each of those genres. The book is conscious of its status as something involving complexity. There are moments when Jeremy wonders what kind of novel he’s in. Is he in a thriller, a drama? It’s also a novel about how we live our lives these days and how we think about ourselves. People interested in a political thriller will find something identifiable for themselves. However, it’s not a novel that plays by the rules of commercial thrillers.

All your novels deal, at least partly, with contemporary political and social issues. Will you talk about that?

[Laughter] I grew up in a household where the political was a key component of everyday life. My father was a newspaper reporter and my mother was a school teacher and also worked for a non-profit organization. They were both involved in anti-war movements in the late 1960s in Chicago. I grew up with that legacy. With that background, I had great difficulty navigating my way through the world without thinking about the ways in which the political affects everyday interactions. When I sit down to write a book, the political is always influencing my creative impulses. I think my books tend to be very broad and complicate realism, while still telling stories about the world we live in.

At times I Am No One uses long, elegant sentences with digressions, but they never lose the reader, and always return to where they began. Who are your literary influences?

There are a great many. [Laughter] For this book, I was thinking about a few writers in particular. I’ve been trying to read Proust in French, having read the first two volumes in English. His circumambulatory style influenced my prose. The Spanish writer Javier Marias is also an influence. And then there’s someone like Nabokov. I was reading Lolita before I began working on this book.

I also wanted prose that would speak to the style of the character, Jeremy.

Yes, professorial and intellectual.

Even a bit pedantic.

Yes, somewhat self-important but still quite likable in his own way. [Laughter] Which leads to the next question. At times, Jeremy O’Keefe seemed the proverbial unreliable narrator, but was he merely unwilling to look at himself more deeply?

I think that’s a really interesting way of thinking about him. He’s not trying to mislead the reader as often occurs with unreliable narrators. What makes him unreliable is his inability to see his own self in the world and his not being able to see the ways in which he’s failed, both professionally and personally. I agree with you: his unreliability derives from his failure at introspection.

That leads me to another question. The novel seems to be partly metafiction in the sense that Jeremy is very aware of writing a chronicle about his experience.

The books I most enjoy reading are those that are conscious of their status as books. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy reading books where metafiction isn’t in play. But I find the playful self-consciousness of a book very satisfying. So, I write the kind of books I would like to read. I’m interested in the way metafiction can take political energy and do something concrete with it.

You’ve studied both film and literature, and you’re a novelist. Talk about storytelling in film as compared to the novel.

The storytelling tools I learned at NYU’s film school were important in ways I could never have foreseen. Film chiefly taught me to build a kind of visual sensibility. Even when I’m thinking about the world within the confines of prose fiction, I’m always thinking about the visual setting.

I’m currently trying to write a screenplay. It’s a completely different kind of creative work. You have to resist those impulses to describe setting or describe a character’s interior thoughts and feelings. In film, you have to find ways to focus only on action and dialogue, yet convey the depth you can portray in a novel. It’s challenging.

Film forces the writer to conform to the proverbial axiom of ‘show, don’t tell,’ doesn’t it?

Absolutely. You have to show everything, right up front.  It has to be done by showing action, setting and dialogue.

What’s the most important lesson you’ve learned about writing?

First, the process of reading is never finished. You must read whatever is published in your genre and must read and re-read your own work in progress. I learned to appreciate how the process of reading and re-reading one’s own work helps clarify issues of both plot and style.

You’re hosting a dinner party and can invite any five guests, living or dead, real or fictional, from any walk of life. Who would they be?

[Laughter] I’d like to invite Stanley Kubrick. Then, I’d have Ruth Bader Ginsburg there. A fascinating guest would be William Faulkner. I’d also invite the late Bill Cunningham, along with Elena Ferrante because I really enjoy her work.

Congratulations on writing I Am No One, a superbly-written and elegant novel exploring multiple themes involving political surveillance, human nature, consciousness, relations between people, and the role of culture in forming a person’s identity.

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Larry Watson received his BA and MA from the University of North Dakota and his PhD in creative writing at the University of Utah. His fiction, published in many foreign editions, has received multiple prizes and awards. His short stories and poems have appeared in various journals. He taught at the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point for twenty-five years before joining the faculty at Marquette University in 2003 as a visiting professor.

As Good as Gone, his 10th novel, is set in the 1960s. It features an entire family, but especially focuses on Calvin Sidey, an aging cowboy living in a trailer outside Gladstone, Montana. Calvin has had no real communication with his family or with anyone else, for many years. He’s asked by his son Bill to look after Bill’s own two kids, 17-year-old Ann and 11-year-old Will, while Bill takes his wife to Missoula for surgery. Calvin agrees to babysit, but must confront the reality that his Old West ways of settling scores, issuing ultimatums, and teetering on the edge of violence are no longer acceptable.

Calvin Sidey in As Good as Gone is something of a mythic American cowboy—perhaps a Clint Eastwood type— transported to 1963.  Tell us your thoughts about this kind of iconic figure.

Maybe you’re casting the movie, already. [Laughter]

I had a mythic western hero in mind as I was working on the novel, but I also wanted to undercut that myth even as I was writing it. In a conversation with his grandson Will, Calvin tries to destroy that myth by disabusing the boy of some of his notions about who and what a cowboy is.

I also had my own grandfather in mind; he was a cowboy in Montana, but was completely unlike Calvin Sidey. He was a gentle, kind man and would have chuckled at the notion of his being an iconic American figure. He thought the best part of his life was when he gave up the cowboy life and became a homesteader.

As Good as Gone is as much a family saga as anything else, isn’t it?

Yes, I very much think of it as a generational family novel. I tried building parallels into the characters. Besides exploring Calvin’s experiences, we have episodes of Bill Sidey as a boy; some of Will’s; others of Bill’s wife Margery as a teen-ager; and Calvin’s granddaughter Ann’s. I wanted to describe the struggles of a family showing how the different generations are reflected in those challenges.

As Good As Gone is populated by a diverse cast of characters, each with a distinct voice. What thoughts do you have about character and voice?

I don’t much analyze it. I just hope if I have a sure enough sense of the character, his or her personality will emerge in the writing. One of the problems I had in the early drafts was with the internal perceptions of Calvin Sidey. I didn’t yet have his voice. I’m not quite sure what happened, but I finally felt I knew him well enough to offer his take on the world. Maybe I just got older. [Laughter].

Speaking of character in As Good as Gone, you beautifully capture the thoughts and feelings of an eleven-year-old boy. Tell us about that.

I may be older and mature, but I can still feel an eleven-year-old boy inside me. Maybe it takes remembering an event from my own life, but I can certainly go back to the experiences and mindset of an eleven-year-old.

I was impressed by how well As Good as Gone describes the small elements of everyday life—the feel of sun on one’s neck, the taste of river water, the smell of mildewed sheets. Tell us about that.

You’ve mentioned different sensory experiences. I do remind myself as I’m writing to include not just visual perceptions, but auditory, olfactory and skin sensations. I think of those things as the kinds of details that help shore up the reader’s belief in what’s happening, and it helps readers experience for themselves whatever is going on. I want them to identify with the experience.

Your prose is spare yet powerful, and reminiscent of Hemingway’s.  Who are your literary heroes?

You just named one: Hemingway. I’m re-reading Hemingway over the summer because I’m teaching a course in fiction. Hemingway was one of the first good writers I discovered on my own; that is to say, I wasn’t assigned a Hemingway novel. I recognized how good he was. His short stories inspired me and made me want to try writing.

What’s the most important lesson you’ve learned about writing?

It’s not a complicated one: it’s just to do it. For me, that means writing every day. I’m a slow writer. A two-hundred-word day is a good one for me. I’ve always taught so I have to allot my time between teaching and writing. The habit of writing every day is essential.

You’re hosting a dinner party and can invite any five guests, living or dead, real or fictional, from any walk of life. Who would they be?

First, I’d have my wife there. I enjoy talking with her, and if you depended on me to keep the conversation going, you’d all be in trouble. I’d really like to invite Philip Roth and Alice Munro. I think so highly of them. Both of them have stopped writing, and I’d want to hear what they would have to say about not writing. I’d also invite John Updike whose work I admire. In contrast to Roth and Munro, he was in the hospital at the end of his life writing poems about getting chemotherapy. He never stopped. And lastly, I’d want my father there. All my novels were published after he died. I never had the chance to ask him, ‘Hey, Dad, did I get this right?’ I wish I’d have asked him more questions and had him talk more about his own experiences.

What’s coming next from Larry Watson?

I’m not sure. I’ve finished a couple of drafts, but I’m not certain about what to do with them.

Congratulations on penning As Good as Gone, a suspenseful and evocative novel with stunning prose, painting strongly drawn characters facing daunting emotional, social and family conflicts.

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