Alex Jones's Blog

Like so many, I've always been thrilled by this Washington Irving story. The Legend of Sleepy Hollow is a piece of literary history, its themes of love and hope vs. the inevitability of death are universal, and obviously it exudes that spine-tingling October atmosphere. My classmates and I at Montgomery Elementary School in Atlanta will never forget our teacher, Mrs. Robinson, reading it out loud to us during the week before Halloween, back in the 1980's. October, no doubt about it, that's my favorite month. When the year begins to ease into shadow, the dying burst of incandescent color is like a celebration of darkness itself. There's something truly invigorating about feeling a certain "Octoberish" chill.
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

Seeds planted too late, according to the experts at the garden shop. But I wanted to try. It was late July, the seeds might sprout but they'd never bloom. Or so I was told. Now here we are in late September with some glorious, delicate, unexpected color to lead us into the Fall. A simple parable for readers and writers alike: whether it's a new novel, a memoir, or some poetry, or if it's picking up Moby-Dick, Wuthering Heights, or The Count of Montecristo. It's never too late to get started.

I got to attend the Minnesota Writing Workshop this weekend, online, and the whole experience was simply outstanding. I learned a ton about the industry and met some amazing literary agents.

I definitely recommend other writers to sign up for Writing Day Workshops. It's well worth the cost of around 200-300 dollars, depending on which activities you want to participate in and how many agents you'd like to pitch.

Keep writing!

Yesterday I took part in an event here in Parma, presenting the newly published short story collection Delitti del Ducato 2. Twelve stories for the twelve months of the year, published by Massimo Soncini Editore. My story "Gusti e Profumi" represents the month of June. This picture of my dear friend Cosimo Gigante and I is a keeper for sure!

Il Traduttore

Rest in Peace, Tom Robbins, and thank you. This book really opened my mind back in the late 80's. The Red Beards conspiracy? I suddenly realized that a novel full of original ideas could be funny as hell, as well. It must've been 1989 (Oxford Books in Atlanta?) when I got his autograph and told him I wanted to write a book about a guy who spends his entire life in an ice cream shop. He laughed and told me to send it to him. I was all excited but then I went to college, got in a band, and I never wrote that book 😭. It's ok, I ended up writing other stuff! Anyway, I'm no Tom Robbins, but everything I write always contains at least a tiny fraction or a trace element of his writerly brio and pizzazz. I remember reading "Still Life With Woodpecker" and thinking that he must've had such a freaking blast writing it. Whereas up until then I'd always pictured novelists as dreary dour dudes like Dostoevsky. So yeah, you opened my eyes, Tom. Thank you, and may the road rise with you! ❤️✌️

Alone by choice on Saturday nights, writing by an open window in his studio apartment, Gregory had experienced a kind of euphoria: a swelling, bursting, yearning hunger that had something in common with lust but included everyone, from the revelers outside his window to the carousers down the hall. He was where he wanted to be, and needed nothing else.

At the amazing "Ilaria Alpi" International Library in Parma.

There had been hundreds of girls of whom he had dreamed but whom he had never got to know; they had just slid past him, leaving for a day or two that hopeless sense of loss which makes beauty what it is: a distant lone tree against golden heavens; ripples of light on the inner curve of a bridge; a thing quite impossible to capture.

from "Laughter in the Dark"