As A Bookish Adolescent, I Sopped Up

My Novels Tend To Come About From A Fusion Of Two Big Ideas, Creating A Critical Mass That Then Fissions, Throwing Off Hundreds Of Other Particles, Riffs, Tropes And Characters.

If The Seventies Were Bulbous, And The Eighties Sharp, The Nineties Were Nothing But Bogus.

The Seventies Were My Fattest Decade. Overall I Think The Seventies Were Distinctly Bulbous. People Looked Chunky, Typefaces Were Rounded, Writing Implements Penile.

There Can Be No More Thrilling Idea Of Intimacy That Connecting With Someone Through The Agency Of The Written Word. Here We Meet, On The Page, Naked And Unadorned: Shorn Of Class, Race, Gender, Sexual Identity, Age And Nationality. The Reader I Seek Is A Tautology, For He/she Is Simply Exactly The Person Who Wants To Read What I Have Written...

I'd Rather Fiddle With My Phone For Precious Seconds Than Neglect An Apostrophe; I'd Rather Insert A Word Laboriously Keyed Out Than Resort To Predictive Texting For A - Acceptable To Some - Synonym.