And That Was As Far As He

You Can't Make Any One Person Your World. The Trick Is To Take What Each Can Give You And Build A World From It.

I Think My Biggest Problem, Though, At Least In Drafts, Is Not Repeating Myself. After Eight Books I Get Worried That A Character Or Piece Of Dialog Might Be Too Much Like Something I've Already Done. So It's A Challenge To Keep It Fresh.

It's Funny How Someone's Perception Of You Can Be Formed Without You Even Knowing It.

Okay," I Said, "what's Your Biggest Fear?" As Always, He Took A Second To Think About The Answer. "clowns," He Said. "clowns." "yup." I Just Looked At Him. "what?" He Said, Glancing Over At Me. "that Is Not A Real Answer," I Told Him. "says Who?" "says Me. I Meant A Real Fear, Like Of Failure, Of Death, Of Regret. Like That. Something That Keeps You Awake Nights, Questioning Your Very Existence." He Thought For A Second. "clowns.

I Was Worn Out, Broken: He Had Taken Almost Everything. But He'd Been All I'd Had, All This Time. And When The Police Led Him Away, I Pulled Out Of The Hands Of All These Loved One, Sobbing, Screaming, Everything Hurting, To Try And Make Him Stay.