The original draft of States of Mercy was written in longhand while sitting for hours a day at a restaurant/bar in Huntington, West Virginia, called Calamity Cafe. Calamity Cafe was, and I don't say this lightly, the only place I've ever felt at home, including the places that actually have been my home. I would sit there drinking coffee, writing, and having conversations with any of a hundred people I called friends, from musicians and writers to bikers, lawyers, socialists, professors, and even nuns. For someone with my weird and overpowering social anxieties, this was a cone of freedom. Anyone was welcome to stop by my table for a chat or a game of chess.

Calamity Cafe closed down around the same time States of Mercy was being snubbed by all the NY publishers. The combination of these happenings left me feeling isolated and a complete failure. My drug addiction, small and manageable at the time, began to spiral out of control. So, in a way, States of Mercy and the closing of Calamity Cafe were what pushed me down the path to my implosion and, ultimately, the penitentiary.

https://www.amazon.com/States-Mercy-N...