I was born and raised in Buffalo, New York. Reading was my escape from the legendary Buffalo winters and probably contributed to my becoming a writer.
I began writing poetry while I was in graduate school, some of which was published in small literary magazines. The first sentence in REALITIES—My children are gambling— was the first line of a poem that grew into a novel. It was gratifying to see REALITIES published, not only in the United States but in England and Sweden, where it was a selection of the Book-of-the-Month Club.
The idea for a novel can come from anywhere. THE LAST SEASON, THE STORY OF A MARRIAGE started with an image of three middle-aged adults sitting at a dinner table, a married couple and an unmarried man. When the husband asked the man what his intentions were, the fellow replied, “I intend to marry your wife.” The image was a gift, and I had to run with it.
Fiction can take you places and introduce you to subjects you might want to know more about. I wrote THE WRITERS’ CONFERENCE to open the world of publishing to readers and aspiring writers, a world most people will never see. The idea for the book came while I was attending a writers’ conference. What I witnessed was so unexpected and unforgettable that I couldn’t let it go.
In HARRY DANCED DIVINELY, I returned to the 1950s. To my surprise the stories, which are all fictional, didn’t have the “Leave It to Beaver” innocence that I believed growing up in a house like the homes I created on Giffort Street. What I saw as a child is not what I discovered as an adult. In story after story, neighbors had their problems. For most people the carefree 1950s weren’t all halcyon days. Still, on Giffort Street there was a strong sense of community and respect for each other that I wish was in all neighborhoods today.
On December 15, 2020, I sent a letter to Amazon, certified mail, signature required upon delivery, that I was removing my books from the Amazon platform. It is one of the best decisions I have ever made. They are available as ebooks on other platforms and can be ordered as paperbacks in bookstores all over the world.
Years ago, I climbed the Great Wall of China. When I reached the top, I saw men standing with their shoulders back and their chests held high to have their pictures taken next to a red rectangular sign that had Chinese writing on it. I didn’t have a clue as to what the writing said. Later in the day I asked my Chinese guide about the sign. He laughed. “It says ‘You are a man when you have climbed the Great Wall of China.’ ”
I think fiction should be as surprising as that sign.