The Aliens of Prickly Pear


Because writing Dear Babalu was easy, and because one of my most thoughtful readers said it was truer to the real me than was Lucifer’s Revenge, I began to wonder if I were a short story writer, not a novelist.  So I wrote a couple of short stories and submitted them to magazines. (Already have one rejection.) Then I started another short story and got stuck. Today, after a walk along the waterfront trail, I realized that I wanted to write a novel, a literary novel, the only provisos being that it was readable and that it was funny. So after I got home from my walk, I renewed writing The Aliens of Prickly Pear, the novel I had put aside. I am posting chapter 1, under Folder.