The seedlings are planted at the far end of the patch, where the morning and early-afternoon sun shines most directly. After digging three holes and filling each with forty pounds of humus/manure, I mix in a handful of mycorrhiza (a beneficial fungus that increases the root system’s nutrient and water intake; it comes in granules) and gently remove the seedlings from their starter pots. Then I give them a drink of warm water and extreme blend powder (from Extreme Pumpkin Store) and hope they aren’t too shocked by the transplant.

As I wrote in an earlier post, by delaying my start-time by a few weeks this year, the transplant is occurring with warmer air and soil. This ought to reduce the stress and allow them to flourish more quickly. I keep the plants protected from chilly weather, hail, pests, and curious puppies by covering the planting area with a popup greenhouse, making sure to ventilate on hot, sunny days. The greenhouse will remain until the vines outgrow the space. By then I’ll have a makeshift fence to keep Bones from uninhibited access, though it’ll really be a matter of training him not to trample and eat the vines.

Last night, water from the dishwasher backed up into the kitchen sink and downstairs bathtub. Foul gray water, full of sediment and eggplant. Down in the basement, the kitchen pipe meets the bathtub pipe before it all flows into the giant outflow pipe, and the semi-shredded eggplant had jammed up tight in that particular spot. Everything else in the house bypassed the clog, so we still had a functional upstairs shower, two bathroom sinks, and both toilets. But once I had isolated the clog, I realized there was no easy way to attack it.

The Pipes:

As you can see, the bathtub drain pipe is one twisty mofo, and the chance of successfully feeding an auger down to the clog was zero. I tried plunging the tub drain to no avail, which meant that one of two remaining options–an option I did not like–was opening that white safety cap that juts off the side and feeding the auger in that way. Opening that cap, however, would release the hideous water stuck in the pipe, and said water would need to be caught in a big garbage can or something, and I would assuredly be a gray-eggplant-water-soaked mess by the time it was all over.

Option #2: CRL Power Plumber. I’ve used this stuff before and it’s miraculous. The can is full of non-toxic pressurized gas. You invert the can over the drain, press down, and blast the trapped water against the clog. The gas is super-cold; ice crystals appear after use, and you can apparently get frostbite if it hits your skin directly. I love it dearly.

I wasn’t sure it’d work this time. The clog was way beyond the drain (see pipe picture above), and the blast would have to move the water down the long twisty tub drain and then, at the t-junction, have enough oomph to blow in both directions and still affect the clog way off to the left.

Worth a shot. I removed the bathtub’s drain cap and overflow-drain face plate. Then I stuffed the overflow drain with a wet cloth to contain the pressure, put the can over the tub drain (there was still backed-up water in the tub, which is actually ideal when you’re using CRL), and blasted away. It took half-a-dozen attempts but then I heard that glorious sucking sound, the water began to move, and lo:

My work desk is usually a little orderly but currently boasts three coffee mugs, an uncharged wireless receiver, a roll of poop bags, several unpaid bills, flea/tick medicine, a bag of pumpkin seeds, multiple books, two external hard drives, a live rattlesnake, a bomb with a sparking fuse, a very small man that may or may not be a leprechaun, and the shadow of a sword suspended by a single hair directly over my head.

My workdays have been similarly cluttered. But I’ve found that whatever I intend to do on any given day, writing and exercise are the only self-appointed tasks I have to accomplish, or else I wind up feeling anxious or down at the end of the day, even if I’ve managed to complete lots of other items along the way. And I tend to finish my entire list more consistently if I accomplish those two priorities prior to everything else. And 9 times out of 10, the struggle to complete a day’s writing comes from scatter and distraction, which I wouldn’t have if I didn’t have a big to-do list weighing on my mind, so there’s the Catch-22 of needing to write before working on the rest of the list and being unable to write because the list preoccupies me, and I hate it when my brain works this stupidly, I really do.

I’ve got the exercise part covered because I go to the gym first thing in the morning, when I’m too tired to rationalize skipping. The remainder of the day is where it all goes awry.

Simple fix: inviolable writing time. It worked well this morning. From 9a-1p, I turned off my iPhone, unhooked the internet, sat in a comfortable chair with an ottoman, and wrote longhand. I worked 45 minutes, then took a 15-minute break to be with Bones and pour another cup of coffee. I did the 45/15 split a few more times, got a ton of writing done, and plan to key it into the computer this afternoon. Obvious and easy: I had to unplug and willfully ignore my other obligations. The result was enjoyable, productive time with zero chatter.

Now I can finish this post, clean my desk, deal with the leprechaun, and fold laundry.

Giant-pumpkin seeds tend to be thicker than regular seeds, so I do a presoak to soften them up… just an hour or two in warm water mixed with liquefied seaweed; some growers believe the seaweed gives the plants a jumpstart, and since I already have the seaweed for later in the season, I figure it can’t hurt.

Next I gently file the edges of the seeds (everything but the tip, where the delicate embryo is) so moisture can more easily penetrate the shell. I wet a bunch of peat pots; a dry peat pot will wick moisture out of the planting medium and I need to keep everything lightly damp at all times.

Seed-starter mix is added to the pots, just wet enough to barely hold together when it’s squeezed. The seeds are planted tip-down an inch below the surface and lightly covered. Then the pots are placed on a heating pad to keep them warm. If all goes well, the seedings will emerge in less than a week. The seed itself contains just enough energy to get its head in the air. After the seedling is up, the first leaves, or cotyledons, need light to keep growing… not too much direct sunlight or else they’ll burn, but more and more each day until they’re ready to go outside.

I’m germinating later than usual this year. In previous seasons, I’ve started the plants on May 1 and had to wait longer to plant them outside because the overnight temperatures were dangerous cold, even with a temporary greenhouse enclosure. The plants simply don’t grow in chilly air and soil, so they tend to stall a while anyway. This year I’m hoping they’ll respond quickly after I transplant them into the warmer outdoor patch, and any time I lost waiting until May 15 will theoretically be overcome by faster early growth.

I need a fence to keep Bones from eating/trampling the plants, but I will have that temporary greenhouse in place for the first several weeks. We had quite the super happy funtime shoveling compost (last year’s ruined pumpkin, maple leaves, etc.) into a wheelbarrow and over to the patch. Bones kept biting the shovel, leaping into the compost bin, and chasing every shovelful I tossed into the patch. He had a grand old time. It’s a miracle I was able to get the job done, but it was nice having an enthusiastic partner.

I present: DAILY BONES, a new photo every day, M-F, on Pinterest, which I am told is a popular site for posting Awesome Dogs and turning your monitor into a kind of sad knockoff Anthropologie catalog.

I also have a Colonial America pin-thingy.

The trick to losing fat without losing muscle (and it should be noted that I am in no way a professional trainer, nutritionist, researcher, or beefcake firefighter calendar model) is to lose the weight slow and steady, lift weights, and keep my protein intake high.

Slow loss – as discussed in the earlier post, I need a deficit of 500 calories a day to lose a pound a week. But my body is going to burn fat and muscle for energy if it doesn’t have the necessary calories. The way to hang onto my existing muscle (and, if I’m lucky, build a little strength even as I’m losing weight) is basically to tell my body I need that muscle by lifting weights.

When you lift weights, you create micro-damage to the muscle fibers; they rebuild themselves during sleep and rest, and they rebuild themselves stronger to prepare for future strain. It’s an amazing thing: your muscles not only fix themselves, they plan ahead. But in order to rebuild, they need an adequate supply of protein.

When I’m doing a strength program, I aim for .75 grams of protein per pound of body weight. That’s plenty. Serious body builders go for a full gram or more, but even those guys can’t grow more than a pound of lean muscle a week. It’s physiologically impossible. The body just has limits, and any extra gain will only be fat.

As with the food I’m eating, none of this is complicated science. My plan could be refined maximum gains if I needed to perform at the level of a pro athlete, but all I want to do is get in shape long-term without hating the process.

So I lose a pound a week, which is theoretically all fat, I keep my protein high — I eat a lot of chicken, turkey, Greek yogurt, eggs, and protein shakes to supplement — and I lift weights 45-60 minutes four times a week. It’s hard making serious strength gains when you’re losing weight. The goal is simply to maintain current strength and maybe get a little stronger. Once I’m leaner, I can add some calories to my diet and creep back up, gaining very little weight every week so it’s mostly muscle and not the fat I worked so hard to lose.

My workout regiment has only a touch of cardio, but I’m fairly active outside the gym, especially with Bones around, and my heart-rate actually stays high during weights because I don’t rest a lot between sets. I go to the gym Mon, Tue, Thu, and Fri at 6am. If I don’t go at 6am, I don’t have the discipline to go later in the day. I do two separate workouts to give the different muscle groups a chance to adequately recover, doing chest and back on Mon and Thu, and shoulders and arms on Tue and Fri. I’m not doing a lot of lower body work right now; I will in a month or two.

Workout A (Mon, Thu)

• Incline bench press, 4 sets of 8
• Assisted wide-grip pullups, 4 sets of 8
• Planks, 1 minute x 3
• Assisted dips, 3 sets of 10
• Rows, 3 sets of 10
• Hanging kneeups, maximum reps x 3

Workout B (Tue, Fri)

• Lateral shoulder raises, 3 sets of 10
• Bent over shoulder flyes, 3 sets of 10
• Dumbbell curls, 4 sets of 8
• Skull crushers, 4 sets of 8
• High-intensity interval running (30 second sprint, 90 second jog, for 15 minutes)

• Bill Paying
• Multiple Shopping Trips for Bones
• Inaugural Trip to Vet
• Adherence to Eating Plan
• Adherence to Early Morning Workout Plan
• Near-Completion of Chapter 2 of New Novel
• Second Trip to Vet for Kennel Cough
• Registration with Home Again
• Purchase of Mother’s Day Gift
• Attention Paid to Wife and Son
• Cooking a Pound of Bacon for Son’s Pajama Read-In Day at School
• A Whole Mess of Other Stuff I Can’t Even Remember Right Now

I should have finished Chapter 2 of the novel last Friday, so now I’m a full week off schedule. Alack, alas. I’m sure we can all live with that delay as I have 39 more chapters of Draft 1 to write anyway. I’d love to have the whole draft completed by the time Fellow Mortals is released next March, but that’s probably wishful thinking as the new book is at least twice as long as anything I’ve written before.

I also should have germinated pumpkin seeds by now and hope to begin next week. I need to buy manure/humus and fence the patch so Bones doesn’t eat the young plants. I’m thrilled to have his help against the groundhog, however, and encourage him to pee at traditional groundhog entry points of the yard.

And I didn’t have time to read any of my Colonial America books, so you’ll have to wait until next Wednesday for your 18th-century fix. Don’t think I don’t know you’re fuming over that. Have you bought a copy of Corelli’s Op. 6 yet? Go on, then. It will make everything OK. [Corelli on iTunes]

Last week I encouraged readers to deface my author photo [find it here] and send the results. Melissa Mykal submitted three:

Have a good weekend. We’re going to Avengers again.

PS: Below is Joss Whedon’s awesome thank-you letter [source] to everyone who made the movie an instant success…

Dear Friends,

Well, it’s been quite a weekend. Someday, long from now, I will even have an emotional reaction to it, like a person would. I can’t wait! But before I become blinded by this “emotion” experience, there’s a few things I’d like to say. Well, type.

People have told me that this matters, that my life is about to change. I am sure that is true. And change is good — change is exciting. I think — not to jinx it — that I may finally be recognized at Comiccon. Imagine! Also, with my percentage of “the Avengers” gross, I can afford to buy… [gets call from agent. Weeps manfully. Resumes typing.] …a fine meal. But REALLY fine, with truffles and s#!+. And I can get a studio to finance my dream project, the reboot of “Air Bud” that we all feel is so long overdue. (He could play Jai Alai! Think of the emotional ramifications of JAI ALAI!!!!)

What doesn’t change is anything that matters. What doesn’t change is that I’ve had the smartest, most loyal, most passionate, most articulate group of — I’m not even gonna say fans. I’m going with “peeps” — that any cult oddity such as my bad self could have dreamt of. When almost no one was watching, when people probably should have STOPPED watching, I’ve had three constants: my family and friends, my collaborators (often the same), and y’all. A lot of stories have come out about my “dark years”, and how I’m “unrecognized”… I love these stories, because they make me seem super-important, but I have never felt the darkness (and I’m ALL about my darkness) that they described. Because I have so much. I have people, in my life, on this site, in places I’ve yet to discover, that always made me feel the truth of success: an artist and an audience communicating. Communicating to the point of collaborating. I’ve thought, “maybe I’m over; maybe I’ve said my piece”. But never with fear. Never with rancor. Because of y’all. Because you knew me when. If you think topping a box office record compares with someone telling you your work helped them through a rough time, you’re probably new here. (For the record, and despite my inhuman distance from the joy-joy of it: topping a box office record is super-dope. I’m an alien, not a robot.) So this is me, saying thank you. All of you. You’ve taken as much guff for loving my work as I have for over-writing it, and you deserve, in this our time of streaming into the main, to crow. To glow. To crow and go “I told you so”, to those Joe Blows not in the know. (LAST time I hire Dr. Seuss to punch my posts up. Yeesh!) Point being, you deserve some honor, AND you deserves some FAQs answered. So please welcome my old friend and certainly not-on-my-payroll reporter/flunky, Rutherford D. Actualperson!

RDA: So good to see you, young Joss! is it possible you’ve gotten more attractive since we last spoke, and less fungal in odor?

JW: Thanks for noticing. Let’s talk.

RDA: “the Scavengers” is a huge success! Does this mean you have changed the very fabric of existence?

JW: Dude, it’s just a movie. Also, yes.

RDA: I’ve seen a lot of a talk about “the Availers” vs “the Dark Knight Rises”. How will you feel if you’re eclipsed by Nolan?

JW: I’m glad I made you ask that. I will feel sad. But let’s look at the bigger picture, and I can’t say this enough: THIS IS NOT A ZERO SUM GAME. Our successes, whoever has the mostest, are a boon to each other. We’re in the business of proving that superhero movies aren’t just eye-candy (they’re eye-TRUFFLES!). People seem intent on setting us against each other, and though I’m proud to be Woody Strode to Nolan’s Kirk Douglas, I think they’re missing the point. Whatever TDKR does on its first weekend, the only stat that matters to me is the ticket I’M definitely buying. Nolan and Raimi INVENTED the true superhero flick, yo. (Special mention to Jon Favreau and James Gunn.) Happy to be in the mix.

RDA: What does this mean for your upcoming slate of tiny independent films/Internet shenanigans? Will they fall by the wayside?

JW: There may be new ideas realized — I always leave myself open to that — but my commitment to Wastelanders and Dr H.2 does not waver. Those stories bubble on my stove.

RDA: And TV?

JW: TV is my great love. To tell stories with that alacrity, intensity, and immediacy… Nothing quite like it. I imagine it’s not dissimilar to the feeling great poker players have: “Here’s what I got, here’s where I’m going… How to trick everybody into thinking I know what I’m doing?” [Full disclosure : Joss hates poker. He is probably talking about bridge. But it should apply nonetheless.].

RDA: What message would you give fans of “the Lavenders” who are not so familiar with your previous work?

JW: “Cabin In the Woods”: still in (some) theaters!

RDA: Is ‘the Ravengers” a perfect movie? It did get an A+ cinemascore…

JW: There are very few perfect movies. “The Court Jester”, “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”, “Godfather” I & II… The list does not go on and on. “The Avengers” is notably IMperfect, which makes its success mean so much more to me — because it’s striking a chord that matters MORE than its obvious flaws. Like the team, it appears to be more than the sun of its parts. Boo-yah!

RDA: What do you feel is the greatest achievement of “the Avoiders”?

JW: Getting “mewling quim” out there to the masses. Also, Hulk.

RDA: Anyone in particular you’d like to thank?

JW: [Reads from notecard]. I couldn’t have done this myself. Part of this Saturn Award belongs to Jeremy Latcham, Kevin Feige, and the fine Marvel folk… But the secret ingredient is my closest peeps: J-Mo, who did uncredited punch-up work (carrier battle, yo!), Z-bro, Drew “I am Loki only taller and foppier” Goddard, and Kai, all of whom worked the story with me. Without them (and Jeremy), I’d still be figuring out how the Wasp fits in to this, and where to put Red Hulk.

RDA: What’s next for Joss “finally got it right for a change” Whedon?

JW: Can we not call me that?

RDA: Just deal. Whut up?

JW: I really think we should discuss that nickname, but I’m finishing “Much Ado About Nothing” this month. If you liked “the Avengers”, you’ll love… I can’t. It’s Shakespeare. And not in the park. I hope it gets watched.

RDA: Any message to your precious “Whedonesk?”

JW: Whedonettes?

RDA: Weeble-eque?

JW: I’m not aware of that group.

RDA: Didn’t they know you when?

JW: I’m not sure who you mean. I’m discarding my old fans so I can concentrate on fame, Euro-trash guy-jewelry and my precious “Air Bud” reboot. But, dude, don’t print that!

RDA: You have my word.

So, that’s our post! Hope you enjoyed it. Hope you’ll continue to carry the banner even though other people may have joined the parade. (Kind of a gay pride/Newsies vibe: sentence accomplished!) Hope you understand how I feel. Cliff notes: grateful.

“Here’s to us. Who’s like us? Damn few”
– Stephen Sondheim, “Merrily We Roll Along”.

“It took a dog playing Jai Alai to teach us humanity!”
–Me, in that awesome film I’m gonna make.

-j., 5/9/12

My wife and son led the charge on getting a dog so quickly after Max died, though we had talked for years about “getting a dog eventually whenever our poor old achy cat passes on.” We wanted a rescue dog, preferably a mix, not too big and not too small, playful but snuggly, the kind of dog that looks like a dog in the most generic, plain-old-dog sense of the word.

My wife made the perilous move of looking up Homeward Bound and discovering online photos of cute and lovable puppies, which even in our sadness over Max, or perhaps because of the empty-house vulnerability we were all experiencing, convinced us that we had to rescue one of these particular pups as soon as possible, because what if, what if, he or she was destined to be our family pet and our inaction, though perfectly reasonable given our cat grief, resulted in a Badly Thwarted Cosmos or, God forbid, the tragic euthanasia of Unadopted Cuteness? We applied the next day.

We liked one litter best — a set of spaniel mixes (two border spaniels, two boradors) — and went to meet the whole pack of homeless dogs on Saturday morning at a rundown local mall. It’s a place that used to thrive but now, for reasons that are difficult to pin, is empty of virtually everything expect a decent movie theater, a JCPenny at the far end, and a couple of depressing stores that sell incense, dreamcatchers, and pewter dragons (it’s likely even those have closed; I didn’t check). An ideal location, in its way, for a weekly adoption clinic. I suspect it makes the mall smell better.

The minute we arrived, we were greeted by a tawny pup who, as if confirming our cosmic suspicions, had unexpectedly arrived overnight from a high-kill shelter in Kentucky. He would have been euthanized in a matter of days. We still had our eyes fixed firmly on the litter we’d considered, but here came the Kentucky stranger, over and again, full of friendly action, licking our son, jumping into my lap (to be cradled, not to pounce), and rolling on his back in total submission to my wife. None of the pups we’d planned to chose from gave us any kind of serious attention.

My parents brought their own dog, a terrific sporty Dachshund named Howard, and he and the Kentuckian hit it off right away. This was crucial… we spend a lot of time with my parents and need our dogs to be Bosom Friends. Homeward Bound approved our application more or less immediately. I expected them to say we’d acquire our puppy in several days, once proper arrangements had been made with his foster family. But nope, he was ours on the spot, so before I really grasped what was happening, we had a dog named Bones wagging around the house.

He’s a Jack Russell mix of some kind. Homeward Bound said he was mixed with boxer. Friends and family disagreed. Today at the vet we heard “lab” and “German shep” and discovered he’s probably four months old instead of six, as we were told at the clinic, and so we really don’t know what the heck he is except capital-A awesome and exactly what we wanted.

He was found roaming the streets of Winchester, KY. That’s all the early history we got. He was neutered shortly after being found and got his early shots. But he must have had some training, too, because he’s already pretty good at Sit, Stay, Come, and peeing/pooping outside. He’s great with things that puppies are supposed to have to learn, like soft biting, letting go of toys when nicely asked (even marrow bones and antlers, which he loves), submitting to inner-thigh, belly, face, and tail handling like he’s trusted us for years. He’s been great with every stranger he’s met and seems inquisitive and active — not aggressive — around the few other dogs that we’ve encountered. Today we had the Best Nap Ever on the couch and played with a toy skunk. He rarely barks, and when he does he has a respectable reason.

He’s currently 16 lbs. Not knowing his actual mix, he might double or triple in size by the end of his first year. But that’s OK because he’s home no matter what, and while we still miss our old cat Max, whom my wife got before she even met me 17 years ago and was a member of the family for the entirety of our son’s life, Bones became a permanent Mahoney as soon as we walked into that hopeless old mall.

Lean Protein First

I’m 5’11″ and was always (for three decades anyway) easily lean. Skinny. Weak. Prepubescent, in a way, with none of the fabled manly attributes like muscle or power. My fear was generally one of becoming a lanky guy with a gut, which really, you’re better off being all around portly than have that happen to your body.

But I got portly anyway. Around the time of my wife’s pregnancy, I made it up to a squishy 215-220. After the birth of our son, I became a stay-at-home Dad and did lots of long walks around the neighborhood with the stroller. The walks, combined with giving up my day-long cubical sedation, got me nice and lean that summer, but I was still pathetically feeble and in danger of gaining it all back once the stroller went away and I continued with my terrible eating habits. Plus I got depressed sometimes and exercise seemed a real requirement… that and wanting to be a good heroic role model for my son, who’s still at the blessed age when he considers Dad a cross between Captain America and Bear Grylls.

I read a lot of books and articles, good and mediocre, about losing weight and getting in shape. The best source I know is Tom Venuto’s The Body Solution, which manages to synthesize every common-sense thing I ever came across in every other source. It’s simple and logical and zero B.S. I cannot recommend it enough.

To get specific about weight loss (I’ll write about exercise another time), here are the most valuable facts I’ve learned, all which have yielded the intended results when properly applied:

1. The only way to lose weight is to burn more calories than you consume. Calorie in, calorie out.

2. We need a certain amount of calories to maintain our current weight. This varies based on age and level of activity. You can ballpark your base-level calorie needs at almost any diet/fitness site. I like Calorie Count (free; has a good iPhone app, too).

3. A pound of body fat is roughly equal to 3,500 calories.

4. My maintenance calorie requirement is approximately 2,700. If I eat 3,200 calories a day, that’s an extra 3,500 calories a week and I’ll gain a pound of fat. If I eat 2,200 calories a day, I’ll lose a pound a week.

5. For the average person, losing a pound a week is a good and manageable target. Two pounds a week is tough. Three is very tough (and probably unhealthy) unless you’re very obese and need to lose dozens and dozens of pounds. Even then, slow and steady.

6. Eating fat isn’t just OK, it’s necessary for proper nutrition. Saturated and trans fats are bad. See some good fats here.

7. You want a healthy balance of protein, carbs, and fats. (Carbs are good and necessary, too: see good carbs here.) Again, most diet sites will help you determine a good ratio.

8. When it comes to losing weight, I’d unscientifically estimate that what you eat is 80% of the equation, the other 20% being regular exercise.

Let’s make it really easy, though. If you’re serious about losing weight, counting calories, eating good food instead of crap, and regular exercise is the only way to go. Which is so cliche it’s incredible that so much confusion remains. I have to assume the confusion stems from people wanting an easier solution, so every time there’s a “breakthrough” or fad diet that promises speed and ease, its flash popularity muddies up the facts. Just eat less, eat better, exercise. That’s it.

One great benefit of strict calorie counting (which really is surprisingly easy thanks to apps) is that even if you do it only for a short period, like a week or a month, you’ll begin to understand exactly how much you’re actually eating (more than you think) and what a “normal” portion ought to look like. You’ll discover that you can eat TONS of certain good foods, like lean meat and vegetables, and that tiny amounts of lousy foods are worse than you ever dreamed. Once you know what a proper serving of meat looks like, you’ll be less likely to eat a giant plate of steak. When it fully registers how empty a bottle of beer is, nutritionally speaking, you might be inclined to drink two instead of four.

Easy rule of thumb when choosing meals on the fly, without counting anything, compliments of Tom Venuto: start with lean protein, then have a vegetable or fruit. If you remember that whenever you open the fridge, you’ll immediately start filling up on good food and seeing positive results.

As for me, I’m 193 pounds and want to lose 10-15. So ideally I’ll be cutting enough calories and doing enough exercise to drop a pound a week into July. Easier said than done, it goes without saying, but at least success or failure won’t be a crapshoot. Next week I’ll discuss my workout plan, which is almost entirely strength training. I’ll explain why.

But then I had second thoughts because I cut most of the mythology (it started feeling to me like very pretentious first-novelist stuff), and my aunt and mother could never remember the title when friends and relatives asked, and, as the FSG publicity director noted, it sounded rather like something Cicero might have pronounced before the Senate.

I liked Pine because a lot of the book is set in the woods and there was the double-meaning of grief/yearning. But marketing worried it was too quiet and vague, and after weeks of batting around, oh, hundreds of unsuccessful word combinations that ranged from overpoetic to not-quite-right t “Dennis Needs to Step Away and Clear His Head”, my editor and her boss put their brains together and thought, you know, Fellow Mortals works great for this thing, and I found myself in total agreement.

So, to quote Cicero in a way that may or may not be relevant, “Saepe autem ne utile quidem est scire quid futurum sit; miserum est enim nihil proficientem angi nec habere ne spei quidem extremum et tamen commune solacium*,” and I’m calling the book Fellow Mortals and figure it’ll work out fine when hypothetical readers want to recommend it to their hypothetical friends.

Oh hey, I have an author site, too: AuthorDennisMahoney.com. Which is basically an old-timey splash page circa 1997 and seemed the best way to direct random visitors here to the blog, the book, or my contact info. Please LIKE it with the Facebook button when you have a chance.

My About page has a link to a giant high-res copy of my author photo, taken by John Oberlander of Oberlander Group, who’s a great guy and a talented photographer. We went for the serious-but-approachable, smiling-with-the-eyes expression, and I encourage you to download and deface my image in Photoshop. If anyone wishes to email their defacements, perhaps I’ll post a few for public enjoyment.

dmahoney at gmail dot com

* Cicero, On the Nature of the Gods 3.6.14: “Moreover, often it’s not even advantageous to know what’s going to happen; for it’s wretched for a man to be tortured [by foreknowledge] when he’s powerless to do anything about it, and to lack even the last consolation of hope, which is available to all.”