Author: Bill Gauthier

• Tea, or I’m Drinking Too Much

  I don’t remember when, but sometime last fall I mentioned on Facebook (and maybe Twitter) that I was becoming obsessive about wanting to try more tea. As a teenager, I…

• I’m Going Back, or Return to the Novel Again

  This is the last time, I promise. Until the next time, anyway. I’m currently printing out the 3rd draft, the “final” draft, of my novel Echoes on the Pond. It’s not…

• This Is Where the Magic Happens, or How I’m Obsessed with Writers’ Workspaces

    I’m rather obsessed with writers’ workspaces. Their desks, offices, writing sheds, whatever it is they use, however they use it. I know I’m not alone on this, but I…

• Live from Comic Con, or Lies I’ll Tell for Fun & Profit

  Writers have been called professional liars. I know I’ve heard Stephen King and Peter Straub say it. I think I’ve heard Harlan Ellison say it. And there’ve been others along…

• Hey, Kids. Do You Like the Rock N Roll? Or How David Letterman Made Life Bearable & Helped Me Through Adolescence

  I’m sure that I tried to watch David Letterman on TV before August 30th, 1993. By that date, I was six days into being 16 and I’d been suffering from…

• The End Has Finally Come, or Hey, Mom! I Finished the Novel!

    See that? That’s what’s at the very end of my manuscript for Echoes on the Pond. The reason I’m showing you is because—and I say this knowing it’s not 100%…

• “Tee-Vee, Daddy,” or Kid’s Shows That Won’t Make You Want to Join a Cult

  We all say that when our child is born s/he won’t watch TV. Nope. Our lil one is going to learn the treasures of play and literature early, and while…

• Days From the End…For the Past Week Or So, or Writing Can Be Funny Like That

  On Monday, March 30th, I figured that I’d be done doing pen-edits on Echoes on the Pond by the end of the week and work would move to the computer to…

• “When I was a kid…”, or Why Your Childhood Doesn’t Mean Much to the Matter At Hand

  When I was a kid, my father would say, “When I was a kid…” and I’d roll my eyes, sigh, and be the snot that I was. I often reminded…

• The Sound of the Scythe, or Harlan Ellison Eviscerates Me Again

  It doesn’t take much work to know that I love Harlan Ellison’s work, and that I think the man himself is pretty keen, too. Even a new reader of my…