Ghosts Were Just A Way That Some

I Don't Actually Talk About My Books Much, Because I Find If I Talk About Them I Don't Want To Write Them Anymore. I Write To Find Out What Happens. You Know How You Read A Book? That's What I'm Doing Except I'm Just Doing It A Lot Slower Because It Takes A Lot Longer To Do.

There Are No Happy Endings... There Are No Endings, Happy Or Otherwise. We All Have Our Own Stories Which Are Just Part Of The One Story That Binds Both This World And Faerie. Sometimes We Step Into Each Others Stories - Perhaps Just For A Few Minutes, Perhaps For Years - And Then We Step Out Of Them Again. But All The While, The Story Just Goes On.

Like Legend And Myth, Magic Fades When It Is Unused - Hence All The Old Tales Of Elfin Kingdoms Moving Further And Further Away From Our World, Or That Magical Beings Require Our Faith, Our Belief In Their Existence, To Survive. That Is A Lie. All They Require Is Our Recognition.

We Call Them Faerie. We Don't Believe In Them. Our Loss.

Living On The Street As A Kid Changed The Way I Looked At Everything. It Was A Different Time And While It Had Its Dangers, It Was Nothing Like It Would Be Today. It Was The Summer Of Love And There Was A Real Sense Of Community Among Us. We Were Hippies Who Looked Out For Each Other Instead Of Trying To Rip Each Other Off. We Only Had To Watch Out For The Police Who Liked To Roust Us Just On General Principles, And The Kids Who Came In From The Suburbs To Do A Little Hippie-bashing.