Buzzed Books #76: Because Everything is Terrible

Buzzed Books #76 by Will Rincon

Because Everything is Terrible by Paul Guest

Because Everything is Terrible

Paul Guest’s fourth poetry collection, Because Everything is Terrible, wastes no time pulling the reader into his world. “First this happened: you woke in a dim glade, / pine trees leaning in, all around.” The twenty-two-page opening poem, “After Damascus” is broken into thirteen sections. Guest forces readers to experience the poem’s narrative that weaves war with dreams by writing in second person perspective. Trained killers are sweethearts, you smell your own blood, and “imagine what must feel like to drown.” Downtrodden to the point where you weep after John Wayne films, the narrative youis lost “inside your skull” and wishes “to be more intensely American.” The prose, while lyrical, drags you through mud and waste, making you realize that beauty can still be found in terrible things. Guest’s ability to find the good in the bad becomes therapeutic until you become comfortable with pain and accept that “your body is strange.” Through stillness and singing, you can learn to love chaos.

The remaining sixty-six pages explore everything that is terrible. America is a big focus, and Guest sprinkles the current climate of the nation throughout: “Nothing will be again as it once was,”  “nothing will be said of grief,” and “everyone I know is mad.” His poem, “Thinking about Disappointment” captures the uncomfortableness we often find ourselves in after waves of bad news in the media: “I want to be terrified. I want to sleep beneath / something so antique / even beasts won’t bother / to look beneath / no matter the ravening gush of blood in their ears.” Guest isn’t afraid to criticize what has become normalized: “the news / reads like a story of fire / and death and endless, insufferable / seasons” and an “industry / which will most harm you / upon its inevitable demise.” Often, his poems leave you with the somber realization that you have been wading through madness and there is no end in sight.

Guest’s obsession with destruction is somehow loveable. In his poem, “Being Reasonably Certain,” he pulls you down the spiral of accepting that “you’ve done the wrong thing, / even though it’s up for debate, / even though philosophy is no help / on the walk home, in the middle / of distraction in the aisle of a store / you swear is evil itself.” Like a beach current, you get pulled out in the tide. You know “that you will not be saved,” everything is in motion and “you’ve been thinking about obliteration. / All the time [you] spent swept up in its romance.” It is gospel, it is truth, it is “the idiopathic dumbness of dawn.”

And yet, Guest avoids melancholy. This destruction is celebrated for its utter completeness. The beauty is something to behold and it all feels like one long moment where you don’t want to look away. Such bleakness is shared by contemporary poets like Ephraim Scott Summers and James Longenbach. Guest embraces his approach and how few people will see his big picture in, “Eros Poetica”: “Always bad form to announce, this is a poem. / I’m not sure why. As if the few of us / who’ll ever read these lines / might think it anything else: / a letter to a dying monarch; / a guide to constructing something / without discernible parts. Like love.” And in a way, his collection is a guide. A hand to hold through all the bullshit that rolls downhill. A book to hug when we find ourselves in a muddy pit while the privileged look down on us. A part of ourselves that we are afraid to listen to or even consider.

Will Rincon

Will Rincon is an MFA candidate for fiction at the University of Central Florida. When he is not depriving himself of sleep, he enjoys board games, anime, and spending time with his family. He highly recommends you watch Battlestar Galactica.


Pensive Prowler #24: Justice League of Steppenwolf

Pensive Prowler #24 by Dmetri Kakmi

Justice League of Steppenwolf

The following does not constitute a film review of Justice League. More a running commentary as my befuddle mind tried to make sense of the movie through an alcoholic haze.

As the movie begins (I can’t put my finger on what’s wrong with the title), I console myself with one fact. Even thought I don’t know what happened in Man of Steeland Batman vs Superman: Dawn of Justice, I’m familiar with the main players: Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Flash, Aquaman…

Hold on. Who’s the black electronic kid in the hoodie? Cyborg? Never heard of him. Good thing he looks like disco inferno, circa 1979. If he’s ever unemployed, he can hire himself out as a disco ball.

And who is Amy Adams supposed to be? Can’t be Lois Lane. She’s not wearing a pillbox hat and making smart quips. Oh, dear, what a long face she has. Looks like a smacked bottom.

And right off, first kick in the gut: Superman is dead. In comic book parlance that’s like saying God is Dead. No wonder Trump’s in the White House and Melanoma is wandering the globe in a pith helmet.

Exhausted by the welter of new info, I fortify myself with a sip of martini, turn to screen and SCREAM.

A really ugly actor is pretending to be Batman.

Ugh, I need another drink after that. Nobody told me this was a horror movie.

Seriously, the guy squeezed into the Batman mask looks like one of those average Joes you see on amateur gay porn websites where they dress like a favourite superhero and get off with other wanna-be superheroes with bodies that are propped up with Enchiladas.

Only this actor—whoever he is—looks like he needs to have his blood pressure checked as well, and cut back on calories. If he doesn’t, he’s going to bring a parapet down on someone’s unsuspecting head.

Recovering, I pull out the iPad and hop on to IMBD. The puffy dude is Ben Affleck? Seriously, Mr Ben, you’re younger than me. Pull yourself together. You’re heading for a stroke.

While I’m there, I check out Aquaman because—hate to tell you—there’s something wrong with him, too. Jason Momoa, Hawaiian. Lazy eye. Probably got hit in the head with a surfboard. I’m not kidding, he resembles a gecko with eyes looking in opposite directions. Must freak out the fish.

All I can say is, director Zak Snyder must have told the casting director to gather Hollywood’s most unsightly actors and bring ‘em in, baby, cause we is a gonna make Freaks 2. Jeremy Irons, Amy Adams and Diane Lane are the only decent looking people in sight.

A better title for this might be Justice League of Fuglies. If nothing else, it’d console mere mortals who are condemned to sit there, looking at Henry Cavill and Gal Gadot’s plastic perfection with envy. By the way, did you notice how Cavill is fully dressed when he’s dead in the coffin and half naked when he leaps out like a demented jack-in-the-box? What’s that about?

And right there it hits me—what’s wrong with the title. When I was a teenager reading these comics it was The Justice League of America. Not the neutered Justice League. But I suppose the abbreviation is necessary today. No one in their right minds would call a multi-million dollar blockbuster The Justice League of America, because—well—American Imperialism. Box office poison.

Even so that doesn’t stop the script from lodging the great evil in Russia and rubbing Putin’s nose in it by sending American vigilantes to save the neglected peasantry from dastardly overlords.

Next, I check out Gal Gadot on IMDB. Because—hate to tell you—there’s something wrong with her as well. Odd accent. Is it a cleft palate? No, she’s Israeli.

Look here, the Amazons came out of Libya (that’s north Africa for those who’ve never looked at a world map), made their way through Egypt and Syria to settle on the Black Sea, in north Anatolia, not too far from where I was born. That’s why I think of the warrior women like distant lesbian aunts. And I can tell you the gals around Samsun don’t look or sound like Gal Gadot. More like the Hulk.

At least the Flash is there to give my eyes a rest. He’s so perky in that body-hugging crimson costume. When I was in my teens I wanted to be the Flash. Why? So I could run away from gay bashers. If push came to shove, however, I’d be the Silver Surfer. Because who doesn’t want to surf naked in the sky?

For me the star of Justice Leagueis the villain, Steppenwolf. Check out his achievements:

  1. He says marvelous things like ‘Praise the mother of horrors.’
  2. He wears fabulous hats with horns that’d make Philip Treacy envious.
  3. He turns Russia into Mordor.
  4. And he generates more personality than Gadot and Cavill combined.

I laughed when one character said Steppenwolf is “the end of worlds” and “he needs only to conquer.” In other words, he’s Mark Zuckerberg and Elon Musk rolled in one. I for one hope he wins. And let’s me wear his hat.

Dmetri with Hat

Dmetri Kakmi (Episode 158) is a writer and editor based in Melbourne, Australia. The memoir Mother Land was shortlisted for the New South Wales Premier’s Literary Awards in Australia; and is published in England and Turkey. His essays and short stories appear in anthologies and journals. You can find out more about him here.

Episode 337: A Roundtable Discussion of Stephen King’s Danse Macabre!



Episode 337 of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing and literature is available on iTunes, or right click here to download.

In this week’s episode, I am joined by Dale Lucas, Tom Lucas, and Elise McKenna for a deep dive into Stephen King’s 1981 treatise on the horror genre, Danse Macabre.

Danse Macabre 2

Photo by Katherine J. Parker.


Danse Macabre

Photo by Katherine J. Parker.


Check out Don Peteroy’s amazing essay on how to read the entire Dark Tower series while still having a life.

Episode 337 of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing and literature is available on iTunes, or right click here to download.

The Curator of Schlock #246: Rings

The Curator of Schlock #246 by Jeff Shuster




I’ve been putting this off. 2017’s Rings from director F. Javier Gutiérrez is the movie responsible for Paramount cancelling the next installment of the Friday the 13th series of films. Apparently, Rings was supposed to be their new cash cow annual horror film series with new installments each year. Rings was a box office disappointment, so they cancelled the Friday the 13th reboot. Makes sense as they’re completely different types of movies. Kind of like when Disney cancelled TRON 3 over the disappointing box office of Tomorrowland.


Instead, we’re getting another Nutcracker movie titled The Nutcracker: We Made This Instead of TRON 3. Yay.

Rings is a sequel to 2002’s The Ring and 2005’s The Ring Two. I don’t remember much about those movies. I think Brian Cox electrocuted himself to death by dropping a plugged-in VCR into a bathtub full of water while standing in it. Ring Two featured Naomi Watts being terrorized by deer created from some really bad CG. They didn’t leave a huge impression. The basic gist of the series is that there’s this cursed video tape. You watch this video and you see all sorts of strange imagery like a woman brushing her hair in a mirror, a wooden chair, a nail going though a finger, etc. Then a phone rings, you pick up the receiver, and the voice of little girl says, “ Seven days.” In seven days, your television set will turn on and a ghost girl comes out of your TV to psychokinetically kill you. The only way to avoid the curse is to make a copy of the tape, have someone else watch it, and stick them with the curse. The only way they can avoid the ghost girl is to copy the tape and have someone else watch it. And so on.


Rings begins with an airline passenger who watched the video, but was too stupid to pass the curse on to someone else. Samara, the ghost girl, comes out of the panels up in the cockpit trying to kill the guy and the whole plane goes down as a result. Fast-forward a couple years later and said passenger’s belongings end up being sold at some sidewalk sale. A biology professor by the name of Gabriel Brown (Johnny Galecki of The Big Bang Theory fame) purchases the VCR because he’s interested in vintage technology.

I really don’t understand VCR aficionados. They were junk then, and they’re junk now. And yes, this is coming from a guy who knew how to program his VCR. I never missed an episode of Felicity. That’s something I can be proud of.

Professor Brown hooks the VCR up to an HDTV and watches the cursed video. Then Samara calls him up, gives him the “Seven Days” pitch, and Professor Brown witnesses some strange phenomena like rain rising up instead of falling down. One has to wonder, does the curse hold the same power if your watching an old VHS tape through and HDTV or even a 4K TV? That’s going to be a downgraded image. I’m thinking this time around Samara would only have the ability to give you a really bad headache at the end of the seven days.

Professor Brown starts running experiments with the videotape by having his students watch it, copy it, and pass it along. He wants to scientifically prove the existence of life after death. That’s rather intriguing. I applaud Professor Brown and his pedagogic practices. I start to get high hopes for this motion picture, and then we’re introduced to Julia and Holt, a good-looking, but boring young couple who get involved with Professor Brown’s experiments. When Julia watches the video to save Holt from the curse, she gets new images along with the old ones.


And this is where the movie takes a left turn. Julia and Holt travel to some podunk country town to discover the origins of the curse. They run into a blind Vincent D’Onofrio who used to be a priest who murdered his daughter or his granddaughter.


I don’t know. They gave up on the only thing the movie had going for it, the science angle. I don’t care about them solving some stupid American Gothic mystery. Paramount, do us all a favor. Don’t just cancel Friday the 13th. Cancel all of your horror movies. You don’t know what you’re doing.

Jeffrey Shuster 1

Photo by Leslie Salas

Jeffrey Shuster (episode 47episode 102episode 124episode 131, and episode 284) is an MFA graduate from the University of Central Florida.

Buzzed Books #75: Convenience Store Woman

Buzzed Books #75 by Drew Barth

Sayaka Murata’s Convenience Store Woman

There’s familiarity in a convenience store. Safety, even. We walk into a convenience store and have certain expectations about what’s likely going to happen. Familiar drinks, chips, candy, hot dogs rolling away.

Convenience Store Woman

It’s within this familiarity we find Keiko Furukura: thirty-eight year-old part-time convenience store worker at her local Smile Mart. We’re given a glimpse into the life of a woman with thoughts like:

It is the start of another day, a time when the world wakes up and the cogs of society begin to move. I am one of those cogs, going round and round. I have become a functioning part of the world, rotating in the time of day called morning.

Simply the thought of remaining a dedicated store employee keeps her sleeping well at night. It’s a position that’s typically overlooked. But they are brought out into the fluorescent light for us to see.

As a character, Keiko Furukura is fascinatingly strange. She has worked in the same convenience store since eighteen and has no issue with this vocation at all. And it is through the convenience store that she has become a person. With each new employee or manager, she takes on aspects of them as a way to appear more convenient to them. A character, Sugawara, has a particularly boisterous way of speaking in the morning. As such, Keiko adopts aspects of it into herself. Another character, Mrs. Izumi, has a particular taste in fashion that Keiko then slowly begins to imitate after researching certain brands. These subtle mannerisms she picks up only reinforces her own character: Keiko is a blank slate without the convenience store. But as a character, that’s what she wants. Even if the world around her, namely her friends and her sister, scream and cry for her to change, she is incapable of doing so because who would she be without the Smile Mart?

At times, this book can be devastating. The interplay between individuality and conformity, work life and real life, all unwind as we question ourselves. Is my work self just a modified actual self? Do I make these decisions for myself or for the people around me? It’s this constant undercurrent in a novel that is fairly light in tone. It’s as though Keiko herself is so direct in her thoughts and actions that the Smile Mart self is the only self that exists for her. And that’s what makes this book devastating in a good way. We as readers can see something askew in Keiko, but does Keiko see it in herself? Possibly. Or maybe she’s just what she wants: a good convenience store employee.

Drew Barth

Drew Barth (Episode 331) is a writer residing in Winter Park, FL. He received his MFA from the University of Central Florida. Right now, he’s worrying about his cat.

Episode 336: Sean M. Conrey!

Episode 336 of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing and literature is available on iTunes, or right click here to download.

In this week’s episode, I talk to the poet Sean M. Conrey about poetry, religion, trees, and our long ago time at Purdue University.

Sean M Conrey


The Book of Trees

Episode 336 of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing and literature is available on iTunes, or right click here to download.

The Curator of Schlock #245: Wish Upon

The Curator of Schlock #245 by Jeff Shuster

Wish Upon

Whatever happened to Ryan Phillippe?

Wish1What’s up, home skillet? Just your resident non-boomer here, curating the most shocking movies he can get his hands on. I thought I would review a young adult movie this week. We’re all about the young adult movies here at the Museum of Schlock. Heck, we even installed cellular phone chargers up on the fourth floor, free to use for any young patron gracing our establishment. I’m even thinking purchasing some of those super cool Dance Dance Revolution arcade games for our lobby. Super cool, huh? Oh, this week’s movie features that actress who plays Barb on that Stranger Things show you kids are so obsessed with.


Tonight we have 2017’s Wish Upon directed by John Leonetti. It’s all about a 17 year-old girl named Clare Shannon (Joey King). Clare doesn’t exactly live a charmed life. When she was little, her mom hanged herself in their attic, and Clare was the one who discovered the body. To top that off, her father, Jonathan Shannon (Ryan Phillippe), is a dumpster diver. I’m not kidding. He goes through trash and brings home treasures that he hoards away in their house.


Hey, I understand. I was a compulsive DVD collector, but I learned to control myself. All four seasons of Heroes have been removed from my shelf. Plus, I only have three copies of Nightmare City in my collection now instead of four. I got rid of the fourth one when I bought the Nightmare City Blu-ray. Still waiting for the 4K restoration. I want to make out every follicle on Hugo Stiglitz’s beard!

Where was I? Clare’s dad digs up a mystical Chinese wishing box and gives it to her as an early birthday present. I think it’s a special kind of father that gives his daughter trash for her birthday. I can’t get over the fact that Ryan Phillippe is in this movie. Wasn’t he married Reese Witherspoon? The last thing I remember him starring in was that Studio 54 movie, the one with Michael Myers (the actor not the masked killer). I seem to recall Michael York chatting about how great swinging London was. I wish I could go back in time to the London of the 1960s, hang out with Caroline Munro and Count Dracula. Instead, I’m stuck in the era of instant messaging and selfies.

Oh yeah. The cell phones are out in full force again in this one. Oh, and cyber bullying. The resident mean girl at Clare’s high school posts a video online of her beating up Clare while letting the world know that Clare’s dad is a dumpster diver. Clare goes over to the wishing box and wishes that the bully would rot away. Wouldn’t you know it? The bully gets necrotizing fasciitis. In other words, her skin rots.


Awesome! But then Clare’s dog dies from being eaten by rats. Clare then wishes that hottest guy in school would fall for her. He does, but then her estranged uncle drowns in his bathtub. Each wish has a terrible consequence for someone else. Are you getting a Monkey’s Paw vibe from this movie? Think on that.

I have the sudden urge to go wade through some trash.

Jeffrey Shuster 3

Photo by Leslie Salas.

Jeffrey Shuster (episode 47episode 102episode 124episode 131, and episode 284) is an MFA graduate from the University of Central Florida.

Buzzed Books #74: The Only Harmless Great Thing

Buzzed Books #74 by Drew Barth

Brooke Bolander’s The Only Harmless Great Thing

There aren’t that many books I’ve read that include exploding elephants. There are even fewer books that include exploding elephants that have an emotional impact that hits with the force of an exploding elephant. And yet here we are. The elephant in question is an elephant we may be familiar with: Topsy, famous for her public electrocution in 1903. And this is where Bolander sets her alternate history, time-jumping, perspective-switching novella. There’s a lot to take in here in just a short amount of pages.

The Only Harmless Great Thing


We as readers are given eighty-four pages and are witness to the Radium Girls, the after effects of the radium on one of the narrators, another woman in the present grappling with the morality of glow-in-the-dark elephants, and passages from the perspective of captured elephants. A more precarious balancing act I’ve yet to read. And yet we’re given to a deftness of pacing and structural skill that knows when to let a moment linger just long enough before switching perspectives and letting us grip the page in glorious tension. The building of momentum as we switch from an elephant’s perspective to the past and into the present gives the novella a weight and balance. To have all three narratives shown chronologically robs the stories of momentum. We understand the ethical quandaries of glow-in-the-dark elephants as a result of radium poisoned elephants a few paragraphs prior. It’s this back-and-fourth structure that gives  readers the tools to fully build the story in their mind’s eye.

Give me time, and I’ll give you close to eighty-four pages on how precise and expressive Bolander’s prose is throughout this novella. A line like,

the ache in her jaw has gone from a dull complaint to endless fire blossoming from the hinge behind her back teeth, riding the rails all the way to the region of her chin. It never stops or sleeps or cries uncle”

makes me clutch my own jaw for the phantom pain conjured. It is all to perfect effect, pointing the reader toward the pain of Regan, our lens into the festered suffering of the Radium Girls. Each narrator has a voice that is distinct and precise. From a few words, we immediately know which character we’re following. It is prose and character voice done exquisite.

Alternate history stories are a literary blind spot to me. I’d viewed them as simply “what if someone else won the war?” fantasies and not much else. But The Only Harmless Great Thing does something different here. It doesn’t imagine a new world under different war circumstances or different global politics. It gives us a new look at characters and cultural icons. We never got Disney’s Dumbo here, we got Disney’s Topsy. We have elephants utilizing sign language to testify against their treatment by US Radium. It’s small, but significant. And that’s what makes the story so intriguing. It’s the same history, but with a couple things switched around. It never once shies away from the suffering during this timeline either. It is gruesome and crushing, but necessary.

Drew Barth

Drew Barth (Episode 331) is a writer residing in Winter Park, FL. He received his MFA from the University of Central Florida. Right now, he’s worrying about his cat.

The Rogue’s Guide to Shakespeare on Film #76: National Theatre Live: Hamlet

75. Robin Lough’s National Theatre Live: Hamlet (2015)

My recent thesis, that successful stage productions should just be filmed rather than adapted for a purely cinematic version, isn’t being born out as well as I had hoped, even if The National Theatre Live’s 2015 version of Hamlet sparkles with greatness.

HAMLET by Shakespeare,

“If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not,” the ghost of Hamlet’s father will implore him. The play has so much to do with this Cartesian split of the mind and the body, the spirit and nature, which is why it is notable that The National Theatre’s filmed stage production of the tragedy begins with Benedict Cumberbatch, as the Danish prince, listening to a record of the slightly obscure jazz standard, “Nature Boy.”

There was a boy
A very strange enchanted boy
They say he wandered very far, very far
Over land and sea
A little shy and sad of eye
But very wise was he

And then one day
A magic day he passed my way
And while we spoke of many things
Fools and kings
This he said to me
The greatest thing you’ll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return

The greatest thing you’ll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return.

That Hamlet would obsess over this song is intriguing, framing the play with a mid-twentieth century sense of existential charm. One implication of the lyrics is this Byronic wanderer is encouraging the listener to fall in love, but not with him. But the lyrics also hint at the cruelty of love, how to love someone who will love you in return is a rather difficult thing. Hamlet has to wonder if his mother actually even loved his father, considering how quickly she took up with Claudius after her husband under mysterious circumstances (those damned serpents of Denmark).

And Hamlet must be wondering if Ophelia—whose affections seemgenuine, whose love helps to create his character—can love him any better than his mother.

The melody is haunting, too.

NTLive Hamlet 6

Another nice touch is how director Robin Lough re-arranged the text to de-familiarize us with the most often performed play in the world.

“Who’s there?” asks Hamlet into the darkness, as if ready to be haunted by his father. (The line textually belongs to Bernardo, of the night watch.) After a curdling silence, Horatio (Leo Bill) enters the room (instead of Francisco).

Despite this re-arranging, this production is something close to the whole Hamlet, which means that there is an awful lot to try to de-familiarize us with. The solution to that problem—how long will viewers need to keep their asses in their seats—seems to have been to speed up the performances. The royal court of Denmark is a bit manic, though with Benedict Cumberbatch and Ciarán Hinds (as Claudius), the effect isn’t all bad. But sometimes one wonders whether the ideal audience of this production might be a flock of hummingbirds.

NTLive Hamlet 7

This production’s Ophelia, played by Sian Brooke, is a bit older. Her bangs made her face seem so vulnerable, no place to hide. When she appears mad, a bald patch mars her head.

The textual nature of Ophelia’s love, trying to write her reality around the margins of acceptable speech, gets woven into the play. When Hamlet is berating her, Ophelia attempts to write him a note, to warn him, but he is too self-absorbed to notice. In a scene change, her privacy is violated when Polonius sends a servant to search her letters for something of Hamlet’s to share with the king. When she goes mad, she recites his love letter to her amongst the garbled songs.

NTLive Hamlet 5

The set design of the Barbican Theater is amongst the best I’ve ever seen, almost operatic, but not quite overblown. After the intermission, there is dirt strewn across the floor of this palace chamber, as if Ophelia’s grave belonged to all of Denmark.

Scene changes feature slow, spooky music with sped up action that includes changes to the set as well as dumb shows that deepen the story (as in Polonius stealing Hamlet’s letters to Ophelia).

The sound engineering of the play is also extraordinary, part posh luxurious romanticism, part David Lynch nightmare. The recording is pristine, making one feel like one is sitting in the Barbican Theater, which despite this psilocybin I took probably wasn’t the case.

NTLive Hamlet 3

I am not sure I have ever seen a Hamlet with quite so many original, surprising, and smart interpretations of the text, and Benedict Cumberbatch is Benedict Cumberbatch. And yet I cannot quite elude the feeling that this version falls short of its exquisite promise—too much rushing the text, which makes Cumberbatch explode like champagne. It’s good stuff, but too good to be drunk quickly.


John King (Episode, well, all of them) holds a PhD in English from Purdue University, and an MFA from New York University. He has reviewed performances for Shakespeare Bulletin.

Episode 355: Jane Ridgeway!

Episode 335 of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing and literature is available on iTunes, or right click here to download.

In this week’s episode, I talk to fiction writer Jane Ridgeway about our stories and characters choosing us instead of the other way around, the delicious problem of historical fiction, and what teenagers today like to read, among other topics.

Jane Ridgeway

Jane Ridgeway by Steve Erwin.

Episode 335 of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing and literature is available on iTunes, or right click here to download.