Last night I went to the ceremony for The Story Prize. Larry Dark, who brilliantly organizes the event, was fantastic as he interviewed the writers as if they were on Charlie Rose or The Actors’ Circle. And the hall at the New School was packed, SRO. The best part was that I actually settled down and enjoyed the readings. I have this disease called author-readingitis. It’s an occupational hazard. The symptoms are: extreme fidgeting, scalp and lower leg itchiness, cuticles complaining, and deregulation of body temperature. Of course, all this is about my own writerly frustrations. But last night I was able to actually listen and enjoy the readings and interviews. I think in part it was because it was damn heartening to see such an enormous crowd gathered together for short stories. And also because the quality of the work was first rate. Oh, the finalist were Jhumpa Lahiri, Joe Meno and Tobias Wolff. Wolff won.

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