Stories start in different ways. "The Double Happiness Company" began life on a napkin at a New Year's Eve party. I had no paper with me and was grabbing clean napkins to record the impressions and dialogue that was swirling around me. A band of old men who called themselves the Buffalo Chips. (A buffalo chip is not a potato. It's dried bison dung.) My father's bad jokes. A woman in a red dress with a butterfly tattoo on her hip. A deep family sadness that is pushed down during a time of celebration.
On that New Year's Eve I was sketching out what I thought was a story. It was only long after it was written did I realise that its true home was in a novel that came to have the same title, The Double Happiness Company.
Stay tuned . . .