The Case for Literary Craft

I held my MFA thesis reading at a roomy, warehouse-style coffee shop in Missoula, Montana, in the spring of 2015, standing at a podium double-fisting Rainier tallboys. I told the crowd, “I’m gonna take a drink every time there’s a line break in this story.” It was a good vibe, shitty art hanging on the walls. I’d cooked a truly huge pot of chicken and andouille sausage gumbo, enough to feed the fifty-some-odd people there.