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Thursday, May 08, 2003

wail of the century

"My novel, set at a fictitious magazine called The New Century, is called "The Fabulous New Century." It's been kept under such tight wraps that my publisher, HarperCollins, doesn't even know it exists. I've sent several bookstores hard-bound copies, each with a different byline and a different title, accompanied by a note reading "Don't tell anyone about this, or I'll kill you." I wrote the entire thing longhand, then typed it out, then copied it back out to longhand, then typed it out again. Man, it's a lot of work writing a novel about yourself!

Over the course of the next few days, or until I get bored, I'll present excerpts from this book, which serves both as my confession and my damnation. I'm sorry for all the terrible things I did at The New Republic, but I also curse the memory of those I knew there. They treated me so horribly, and they didn't even know how or why. Their names have been changed to protect them, but mine has remained the same to vindicate me."