Fear is the mind-killer, the little-death that brings total obliteration. I'd rather go run and hide than face it, but I think I'm going to have to. And you might too.

Sometimes you pull back, sometimes you go all out.

Are we on the cusp of a new generation of books made by AI? Will readers care who or what wrote it if its a great book? We're about to find out...

Greysuits turns 10, Top Gear/Grand Tour/Clarkson's Farm, Burning Man, neighborhood gatherings, Microsoft layoffs—it's all about consistency.

Is co-writing a novel with AI cheating, or just what being an author looks like now? I'm still working it out.

It turns out, though, if you're not in Indianapolis as a tourist trying to pack fun into every moment of every day, but instead go as someone who likes hanging out in new places and taking long walks and seeing what's around, it's a great place to spend a week.

"Everyone begins as a child by liking Weather. You learn the art of disliking it as you grow up." — C. S. Lewis

In which the author discusses his growing obsession with the outdoors and all the trash he finds there, plus recent books, movies, and shows.

Some of the stuff I've been watching and thinking about lately, both sublimely shallow and unsettlingly heavy... and the deep peace at the end of all things.