From the steps he watches June bounce onto the camp bus. The rows call her name. She blows him a kiss. Makes him glad, but still, he wants to go blue.
Not dirty blue. Gloomy blue. He goes upstairs, puts on Steve Earle—I know I can always count on you—and composes himself.
A lit agent once asked why McCormick’s author felt no compassion for his characters. Wonder what that guy listens to in the morning?
His golfing buddy Jay feels the same way: “You’re funny, man. You should write funny. Everything isn’t a lesson.”
Well, that’s not true.