A Man Who Casts No Shadow Isn't

Like A Domestic Cat, Purring On The Sofa By Day, But By Night, A Strutting Queen, A Natural Killer, Disdainful Of Her Other Life.

That Wind. I See It's Blowing Now. Furtive But Commanding, It Has Dictated Every Move We've Ever Made. My Mother Felt It, And So Do I - Even Here, Even Now - As It Sweeps Us Like Leaves Into His Backseat Corner, Dancing Us To Shreds Against The Stones. V'la L'bon Vent, V'a L'joli Vent. I Though We'd Silenced It For Good. But The Smallest Thing Can Wake The Wind@ A Word, A Sign, Even A Death. There's No Such Thing As A Trivial Thing. Everything Costs; It All Adds Up Until Finally The Balance Shifts And We're Gone Again, Back On The Road, Telling Ourselves - Well Maybe Next Time

One Of The Things That Writing Has Taught Me Is That Fiction Has A Life Of Its Own. Fictional Places Are Sometimes More Real Than The View From Our Bedroom Window. Fictional People Can Sometimes Become As Close To Us As Our Loved Ones.

As Authors, We All Expect Criticism From Time To Time, And We All Have Our Ways Of Coping With Unfriendly Reviews.

Remember, It's The Winners Write The History Books, And The Losers Get The Leavings.