This is The Author's Voice, New Fiction from The New Yorker.

I'm Deborah Treesman, fiction editor at The New Yorker.

On this episode of the author's voice, we'll hear Joy Williams read her story, Stuff,

from the July 25th, 2016 issue of the magazine.

Joy Williams is the author of five story collections and four novels, including breaking and

entering and the quick and the dead. Her collection, 99 Stories of God, was published by Tin House

this month. Now here's Joy Williams.

Stuff.

It was December, and he was in the windleless consultation room of his doctor's office.

A young man with a stunningly high forehead was informing him that he had lung cancer and would die.

The certainty of this being considerable soon.

The doctor was not familiar to Henry.

The one he usually saw was at a baptism or a wedding that afternoon.

Henry wasn't sure which. The information, having been relayed to him by a receptionist

hastily swallowing her lunch. He asked the young man with the intimidating forehead if he would

kindly repeat what he had just said. The words were repeated, and Henry's first thought was that

his own doctor had been too

embarrassed to tell him. His second thought was that this was unlikely. I call them worksticks,

Henry said, somewhat defensively. They're why I'm able to write so much. Really? What sort of thing

do you write? I wouldn't have been able to concentrate without cigarettes.

There you go, then, the doctor said.

I write a column for the community paper, the Zephyr.

...