Eating Crow: an introduction

When I wrote a novel three years ago, I had no idea it would become a critical and popular sensation, and thus I have not been disappointed. I've let it steep for awhile after a couple of rejections: Graywolf was disturbed by the lack of dialogue in the sample chapter; Coffee House actually summoned the entire manuscript before remitting a form letter rejection. I saw this as progress, because at the time I'd just gained my first freelance byline.

I have recently started to feel the pulse of inspiration to revisit the story, work out a few kinks, and flesh out the characters. And, shameless self-promoter that I've become, I resolved to do so via frequent postings to this blog. I welcome any regular reader who will not flinch from the yeoman's duty of posting honest commentary.

The chassis on which I've tried to hang this novel is the notion that we are all beings with a consciousness that, properly tended, exceeds our hat size. That spiritual fulfillment is as diverse as are the means by which life reproduces, as varied as the many shapes of seeds. That some get a second chance to sum up their mistakes and soar on the thermals for awhile, and that some get it right the first time. Eating Crow certainly will require your suspension of disbelief, but I would not call it magical realism--I'd prefer the term supernaturalism. If I have succeeded, I have adapted the story of the ugly duckling.