Because She Was A Princess She Had

I Don't Differentiate In The Way That The Genre Creators Want Differentiation To Be Made. I Feel That I Have Never Written Children's Or Ya Stories Particularly.

One Of The Biggest, And Possibly The Biggest, Obstacle To Becoming A Writer... Is Learning To Live With The Fact That The Wonderful Story In Your Head Is Infinitely Better, Truer, More Moving, More Fascinating, More Perceptive, Than Anything You're Going To Manage To Get Down On Paper.

Tell Me Who You Are. You Need Not Tell Me Your Name. Names Have Power, Even Human Ones. Tell Me Where You Live And What You Do With Your Living.

The Magic In That Country Was So Thick And Tenacious That It Settled Over The Land Like Chalk-dust And Over Floors And Shelves Like Slightly Sticky Plaster-dust. (housecleaners In That Country Earned Unusually Good Wages.) If You Lived In That Country, You Had To De-scale Your Kettle Of Its Encrustation Of Magic At Least Once A Week, Because If You Didn't, You Might Find Yourself Pouring Hissing Snakes Or Pond Slime Into Your Teapot Instead Of Water.

It's Hard To Look Too Grand When You're Led By Someone Who Looks Like A Pudding With Legs.