Fiction Writers Are Strange Beasts. They Are,

If You Are Ever Completely Satisfied With Something You Have Written, You Are Setting Your Sights Too Low. But If You Can't Let Go Of Your Material Even After You Have Done The Best That You Can With It, You Are Setting Your Sights Too High.

After All, You Put A Lot Into Creating A Universe And Everything That Goes With It, And It Seems A Shame To Use It Only Once.

I Remember One Winter, When I Was About Five Or Six, I Spent Three Days With Another Boy, Tracking A Bobcat That Had Been Sighted In Another County Fifty Miles Away, But Which I Was Sure Had Come Into Our Neighborhood.

I Haven't Made Up My Mind About Doing Anymore Landover Books.

Genocide Is Like A Dessert. It Is Made Of The Flesh And Bones Of Woman And Children, It Is Sweetened With The Blood Of The Innocent, And It Is Baked In The Ovens Of Auschwitz. There Were Truths To Be Learnt And There Was Wisdom To Be Gained... But There Was A Price To To Be Paid As Well. You Could Not Brush Up Against The Future And Escape Unscathed. You Could Not See Into The Forbidden And Avoid Damage To Your Sight.