ABOUT THIS BLOG:

ABOUT THIS BLOG: Much like myself, this site has worn down with many of its features no longer functioning. If you have questions (or answers), feel free to contact me: @WillTinkhamfictionist (Facebook) or @willtink (Twitter). Thanks!

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From Minnesota's Iron Range to Hollywood's Golden Age, Ike Savich discovers America—one Packard at a time. THE PACKARD SALESMAN

About Me

Will Tinkham has published eleven novels. THE PACKARD SALESMAN follows THE TEDDY & BARA SHOW, IF I LIE IN A COMBAT ZONE, FALLING DOWN UMBRELLA MAN, THE MIRACLES, THE CARY GRANT SANATORIUM AND PLAYHOUSE, THE GREAT AMERICAN SCRAPBOOK, THE ADVENTURES OF HANK FENN, BONUS MAN, NO HAPPIER STATE, and ALICE AND HER GRAND BELL. He lives and writes in Minneapolis, MN. His short fiction has been published on three continents and he long ago attended Bread Loaf on a scholarship. An actor of little renown, his credits do include the Guthrie Theater and Theatre in the Round. @WillTinkhamfictionist on Facebook, @willtink on Twitter, instagram.com/willtink

Monday, September 29, 2014

The Amsterdam

I'll be reading at the Amsterdam Bar & Hall, downtown Saint Paul, on Saturday, November 22 @ 1pm, as part of the Saint Paul Almanac Literary Festival. (Or so they told me; I haven't seen anything official yet.) I scouted the place out by attending the Lady Parts Justice event hosted by old friend Lizz Winstead the other night. Lizz was wonderful, as always. This is the least blurry picture I took all night. (I think I need an iTripod for my phone.) I have really blurry shots of the Prairie Fire Choir and Rude Girl, an all-girl Clash cover band. It was an amazing event, even if I didn't win any prizes.
The Amsterdam is huge; I'll be curious to see how they set it up for a reading. The rest of the series seems to be held at coffee houses all over town. Info here. Stop by come November if you can. (I'll do more serious pleading later...)

Friday, September 12, 2014

Fraud on the 21

Last night I rode the 21A for an hour and 15 minutes to attend the book launch for the 2015 Saint Paul Almanac. Despite being a stranger in a strange town, I found the Black Dog Cafe and ventured inside, eventually finding my free copy, a $50 check and getting a rose pinned to my lapel—all for having a story in their wonderful book. They had speakers and readers, all singing the praises of their home city of Saint Paul. There were childhood memories, reflections on buildings and attractions long since gone; a five-year-old even danced to the spirits of indigenous peoples who inhabited the area thousands of years ago. I felt guilty for crashing their party.

I stole out of town the same way I came in, on the 21. Now I had the Almanac to read. I read about old chocolate factories, Red Owl groceries, kids playing hide-and-seek amid coffins. I read true stories of generations growing up and growing old in Saint Paul. Why was I in this book? I'd spent most of my adult life in Minneapolis. I'd written a fictional tale of a fictional doctor taking a fictional bullet out of John Dillinger's shoulder. Had I taken their money and space in their book on false pretenses? I opened the Almanac to my bio: sure enough, I hadn't even bothered to fess up to being from Minneapolis. Fraud!

Was I any better than Dillinger himself? He took advantage of the hospitality Saint Paul had to offer, then blew town with his ill-gotten gains. As the 21 pulled into the Uptown Station, I checked my coat pocket for that check—my own filthy lucre—and vowed...nothing. Who was I kidding? I'd never change. I slunk back to my Minneapolis apartment. I'm not proud of the path my life has taken. Once a writer always a writer. So shoot me...



(Look, I even lifted that picture of the dancing kid from the Almanac FB page! Have I no shame?)