My latest book

I have written to an agent to ask whether this weblog (now at 136 pp.) could be a book, and they wrote back that they weren't interested. Foreign writers have published their weblogs as books, but I suppose that is because writing a weblog in their countries is dangerous. It feels dangerous to write notes here. One difficulty is in knowing what to do about names. People have names, and my storytelling would be far more intriguing and there would be more of it and the stories of romance and friendship would be more loving if I felt allowed to write freely, but I do not feel particularly free nor am I interested in fictionalizing real life stories. I use instinct to guide me on these subjects: I use "signs" in the backyard -- stones of different shapes and visages, trees, animals and their tracks -- to tell me what to do. I wrote in the foreword to Work on What Has Been Spoiled (second in my not-a-book series) that a stable domestic life and sex are necessary if one is to write fiction. I am afraid that if I start to ask widely for a "book," that I will cease to look for a paying job.