Walkabout

Recently, I’ve started walking again for several reasons. I gained some weight. It helps with anxiety. When I’m walking, I feel like I’m in control of something, even if it’s that my body is moving forward. Most of the time, I think about something related to work. On walks is a place where mental organization and sometimes epiphanies take place. Possibly, it’s also a situation that makes me feel small. In the world, you are tiny. At home, you are big. So far, it’s going pretty good. My brain is settling, relaxing, easing. Writing is a lot like walking. Just keep going.

Buy "The Tumor" — my short story that’s been called "a masterpiece of short fiction."

The House That Jack Built

I mean, is anybody a fan of Lars von Trier, really? I happen to be intrigued by him, because if you can say one thing about him is that he’s never boring. Or, at least, even when he’s boring, it’s because he’s doing something outrageous to death. Speaking of outrageous and death, LVT has a new flick out, and you don’t have to walk out of a theater at Cannes to see it. “The House That Jack Built” is available for streaming on Amazon. Convenient! Nothing like home delivered endless slaughter of women and others in scenarios in which the victim fairly makes the killer kill, I always say. The movie’s best kill, if you will, is the first one, when Matt Dillon, aka Jack, kills Uma Thurman, who plays a really annoying woman. Because this is LVT, you’re not sure if you’re supposed to laugh hysterically, feel grim, or just hold on for the duration of the ride. But, boy, can Uma take a jack to the head. In any case, you can look at the movie as a series of vignettes in which Jack murders people, or you can look at it as a meditative study on the creative process as told through the persona of someone who happens to use murder as his tool d’art. Frankly, the mutterings of Jack to a Virgil stand-in are the most interesting parts of the movie, particularly when Jack waxes philosophical about how matter dictates its form in art. Don’t search #thehousethatjackbuilt on Instagram, like I did, if you don’t want to have the penultimate shocker spoiled for you. It’s crude, but this is LVT, isn’t it? I won’t mention the part with the windshield wiper; I mean, that’s just ugly (or is it?). We have come to expect this sort of thing from the enfant terrible of Dogme 95. What I could never quite resolve with Jack is if LVT is trolling masculinity or wallowing in it. Toxic masculinity is a fair thing in which to flail. To attempt to redux The Inferno, the place to which the film devolves, is a mistake. Stay in your am-I-a-misogynist-or-not lane, LVT! Alighieri you ain’t.

Buy "The Tumor" — my short story that’s been called "a masterpiece of short fiction."

I'm in a Library

I’ve fallen back in love with libraries, as of late. I used to think they were graveyards filled with tombstones. Now I see they’re immortal. All those stories between the covers. My favorite libraries have shelves so big you have to turn a wheel to pry them a part and walk between them.

Buy "The Tumor" — my short story that’s been called "a masterpiece of short fiction."

I'm Searching for Strippers

A journalist friend of mine is working on a story about dancers in New Orleans. Got a lead? Know someone that would be good for her to talk to? Email me at susannahbreslin @ gmail, and I’ll connect you.

Buy "The Tumor" — my short story that’s been called "a masterpiece of short fiction."

Ratioed

Buy "The Tumor" — my short story that’s been called "a masterpiece of short fiction."