Matters of Faith is my second novel, and I'm delighted that the advance reviews have been fabulous. They've also surprised me with their clear understanding of exactly what I was trying to write about, not because I think critics are thick, but because I tend to think for years and years about a story, and am convinced that it's clear in my head, but am often concerned that I was able to get it down as clearly on the page. And now I get to try to actually explain that process? You're brave people, you really are. Continue reading...

"What was it like, writing a book together?"

This is the second question people always ask — after "Are you identical twins?" — when we tell them that we recently finished Turning Tables, a novel based on our experiences waiting tables. That we wrote it while living on opposite coasts sparks the next question: "Wow, did you ever argue?"

Apparently, yes. Continue reading...

I always hated Shakespeare.

They made me read him. First it was Julius Caesar. Then Romeo & Juliet, which was only cool because we wasted a week watching the movie. Next came Henry IV, Part One. I said, "You've got to be kidding," and scraped by on class discussions. The Bard and I were not friendly.

So how did I end up writing The Master of Verona, a novel based on his works? Continue reading...

As a devotee of Chinese martial arts and Chinese culture in general, I've been familiar with martial arts stories since the days of David Carradine's TV Show Kung Fu. What I didn't know until I began to read so-called martial arts stories in novel form is that most of the great literary works of China fit into this category, works ranging back a thousand years or more. Continue reading...

I was sitting on my grandfather's lap. I understood the part about getting the page you're reading done. Getting it done was exactly what I wanted him to do. Seven-year-old boys are not big on patience. Or poetry either. I was about to suggest we do the Three Little Pigs all over again. But when I craned my head to look up at him, I saw a tear forming in the corner of his eye. Continue reading...

It all started with Erma Bombeck. As a young kid growing up in the Ozarks, most other boys my age were hunting, fishing, or playing baseball. They lined their rooms with posters of George Brett and Joe Montana, or, if they were a bit older, Farrah Fawcett. But I was obsessed with Erma. Continue reading...

As a child, my favorite pastime was sitting under the Ping-Pong table, over which I'd draped a cloth tent, reading. When puberty hit, I sequestered myself in my room, preferring to read about others' lives rather than living my own. Entering a cloister when I was 18 put a real crimp in my reading activities. Our reading was limited to lives of the saints and books on prayer or asceticism. The monastery library, however, held an astounding collection of Stoddard's Lectures. I read the entire series, traveling round the world with Stoddard on early 20th century journeys. When I left the monastery I crashed the local library and seized every book the staff recommended. Continue reading...