Adam Gnade

Snowed in for days on the ol’ ever-lovin’ Hard 50 Farm. Nothing but time alone with the book. Hit a spot yesterday where (drunk on wine) book-editing became book-writing and I added a new chapter that felt better than anything I’ve ever written. Gonna push myself and make it as big and epic and heartbreaking and all-compassing as it can be. There’s that old quote that says “American novels are about everything.” I think a lot of young writers ride on that sort of idea and write stories that are all over the place but touch on nothing tangible, no characters, no plot. (I’m guilty of this too.) I want this one to tell the kind of story you can give your heart to but, just the same, I want it to hit every nook and cranny of life in this strange, dark, mean bastard of a country. I want it to feel like life in America—all the trailerparks and mall parking lots and bars and graveyards and churches—and I want it to feel like today. It’s going to be a motherfucker of a fight, but I think if I give myself fully to this story I can do that.

-Adam