donut

It’s time to post another novel.  Thanks to everyone who read Bad Angels.  This one’s a bit stranger.  It’s a science fiction memoir based on a crossroads in my life being revisited, a personal alternate history.  All of the important bits are true.  It’s also a tongue-in-cheek singularity tale.  As a bonus, it’s chockfull of information about making donuts, something I spent a significant portion of my life doing.  I’ll publish the novel here in four parts for your dining and dancing pleasure.  Thanks for reading.

THE DONUT MAN

 

A Portrait of the Artist

As a Middle-Aged

Donut Cook

by

Dennis Danvers

As you ramble on through life, brother, whatever be your goal:

Keep your eyes upon the donut, and not upon the hole!

—Murray Banks

 [T]he reiteration of vacancy—voids that themselves contain gaps, hollows yielding pockets of emptiness—is everywhere in science fiction and fantasy, indeed is peculiar to it…. This undermining of something by nothing (which proves susceptible to erosion by deeper nothings) is present throughout the genre.

—Gregory Feeley, “The Hole in a Hole: A Theory of Science Fiction.”

CONTENTS

Part One

1. Bob’s Donuts

2. Helpful Criticism

3. Following My Father

4. Finding Nicole

5. There’s Your Trouble

6. On the Road Again

 

Part Two

7. The No-Holes Situation

8. Poker in the Moonlight

9. Got Anything Hot?

10. Sunday Punch

11. The Wild Blue Yonder

12. The Guy in the Derby Hat

 

Part Three

13. Even Steven

14. Absolutely Sweet Marie

15. Sunset in Eden

16. What Kind of Fiction?

17. The Bad One’s Redemption

18. Son of Da Vinci’s Smile

 

Part Four

19. Looks Downhill To Me

20. Adults Only

21. There Is a Small Mailbox Here

22. Whirlwind Romance

23. Thanks for the Dance

 

 

Chapter 1. Bob’s Donuts

[G]reat novels are always a little more intelligent than their authors. Novelists who are more intelligent than their books should go into another line of work.

        –Milan Kundera, The Art of the Novel

 

For almost a year now, the city has been laying new sewer pipe in front of the strip mall where my donut shop resides. It’s killing my business. It’s dead when I arrive at dusk, what used to be a busy time for us. Nobody wants to clank across a steel plate over a moat in the failing light just to indulge a sugar buzz. Cowards. Even the pizza joint at the other end only has two cars for their triple cheese special. Last Tuesday’s half price pitcher night had a Suburban full of softballers more off road than planned. I can’t complain. The tow driver bought a couple dozen. Between me and the pizzeria is Antique Paradise, a big, empty hunk of nothing that’s never open. It used to be a liquor store and then carpets. The carpets moved further out in the ‘burbs, following the money. I don’t know where the liquor store went. I’m sure they’re doing okay. They used to bring in a lot of business. You’d be surprised how many people like a few donuts with their alcohol, or maybe you wouldn’t. Indulgences people call them, special treats to make life worth living, as if it weren’t already. (more…)

remapping

This Thursday October 24th at 6:30 p.m. at Fountain Books 1312 E. Cary in Richmond it will be my pleasure to join Ron Smith and Howard Owen in readings from Remapping Richmond’s Hallowed Ground, an outstanding collection of stories, poems, and art responding to the legacy of the Civil War in our fair city.  To be clear, this ain’t your mama’s War Between the States.  The event is free and open to the public.  Hope to see you there.

 

Long time readers of this blog, if there are such, are familiar with stories I’ve posted here in the past for free with God as the protagonist.  I would try to sell them, but there are already too many folks making big bucks off the divine.  Enjoy.

 

God Scoutmaster

Be prepared.

—The Boy Scout motto

 

God’s walking in the woods.  God’s into woods, forests, jungles, like in Eden and Spligg (which is just the other side of Betelgeuse in case you’re wondering).  He’s about to meet Thomas Paine Crawford who is the reason God’s here, but He’s also on Spligg on another matter at the same time.  I’d explain it to you, but you wouldn’t understand.  The human mind can’t grasp it.  Short version:  He’s everywhere. (more…)

full_allthesnakehandlers

Isn’t this Scott Bakal image incredible?  My good fortune is that it accompanies my story, “All The Snake Handlers I Know Are Dead” at Tor.com.  It appeared on July 31st, but I was deep in the throes of a computer crash and a glacially slow Carbonite restore that’s had me on a forced vacation since returning from Maine.  Better late than never.  I recently visited the home that inspired this story and had a wonderful time in spite of continual driving rain.

My experience as a resident at Norton Island exceeded my wildest expectations.  What a wonderful place, what wonderful people.  I finished a story and completed a draft of another while there.  I almost lost it all in the computer crash, but fortunately I’d saved that work on a thumb drive as I was leaving the island.  My computer was completely dead when I woke it from sleep the day after I returned.  A humbling experience.

I start teaching on Thursday, an Advanced Fiction Writing class at VCU, and I’m looking forward to it.  Meanwhile I’m trying to reconnect to the e-world and sort out what I’ve lost.  If I’ve neglected anyone out there, it’s only because I lost my laptop, and I was adrift without my virtual life.  Somebody should write a novel about this.

 

I will be at Readercon, one of my favorite conventions, starting this Thursday. I’m looking forward to seeing old friends and discovering new writers. I read Thursday evening at nine from a forthcoming (July 31st) short story on tor.com, “All the Snake Handlers I Know Are Dead.” I’m also on a couple of panels, one about the wonderful fiction of Maureen McHugh, who is also the guest of honor; and another about the reexamination of the Civil War mythos, largely in the clutches of the Lost Cause folks since the war, in fantastic literature. I’ve done a bit of that. Most recently in “Christmas in Hollywood Cemetery” in the anthology Remapping Richmond’s Hallowed Ground. After Readercon I’m off to Norton Island off the coast of Maine for a couple of weeks of intensive writing. I have more publication news I can’t reveal yet.  Life is very good indeed.

The Successful Writer

 

The story’s story is no writer’s friend.

The path to glory distracts and wearies.

A story’s a story because it lies.

Some days, redemption is writing well,

Rounding up the words and making them small.

Some days—the hard ones—it’s not to write at all.

I’m delighted to report my story “Leaving the Dead” is now appearing in the May Issue of Lightspeed. I love the artwork. You can read the story here. There’s also a podcast and an author spotlight

.Leaving-the-Dead-208x160

3 Haiku for Creation

 

God wakes, looks around,

Makes everything he sees

But can’t see himself.

 

Man wakes, makes a sound,

Names everything he sees,

Calls the mirror, God.

 

Woman never sleeps:

She builds the fire, throws the pot,

Cooks the dawn inside.

 

 

I’ll be at Ravencon this weekend, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, on a variety of panels about everything from Downton Abbey to sf art films. It’s a small, friendly, affordable con. The Guests of Honor this year are Kevin J. Anderson and Rebecca Moesta. If you come, say hello. I’m the skinny bald guy with the white beard.

Easter Was Hard

 

Easter was hard for my young mind to grasp.

Chocolate bunnies laying eggs, Mom hunched

Over the dining room table blowing

The insides from raw ones Dad whipped into

a froth, scrambled, and we boys then devoured.

Watched Mom clear the table, paint the hollow

Shells with delicate brushes until they

Took your breath away. While Jesus suffered,

Died, a horrible, heartbreaking story,

But wait! That was Good News somehow because

God meant to kill his Son for us and Sin.

He didn’t really die.  You won’t either.

The virgins wore hats like flowering shrubs.

I got a new jacket, too big and white.

 

—Easter, 2013

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