Grief Is As Contagious As A Yawn.

A Is For Alibi, My First Book, Was Published In 1982. As It Happened The Next Couple Of Books Took Place In June And August Of That Year. Without Meaning To I Painted Myself Into A Corner. The Other Issue Was The Aging Process. I Did Not Want My Main Character To Age One Year For Every Book So I Slowed The Whole Process Down. This Way I Could Get Through All 26 Letters Of The Alphabet Without Making Her 109 Years Old In 2015. I Might End The Series In Either 1990 Or On New Years Eve 1989.

Writing Isn't About The Destination-writing Is The Journey That Transforms The Soul And Gives Meaning To All Else.

My Second Husband And I Were Going Through A Bitter Divorce, And I Didn't Have The Money For A Fancy-pants Attorney. I Didn't Know How To Fight, So I'd Lie Awake At Night And Think Of Ways To Kill Him. But I Knew I'd Get Caught, So I Decided To Put It In A Book And Get Paid For It! I Always Think It's Odd That A Whole Career Came Out Of That Homicidal Impulse.

I Figure Guys Are Like Whitman's Samplers. I Like To Take A Little Bite Out Of Each And Then Move On Before The Whole Box Gets Stale.

People Who've Had Happy Childhoods Are Wonderful, But They're Bland... An Unhappy Childhood Compels You To Use Your Imagination To Create A World In Which You Can Be Happy. Use Your Old Grief. That's The Gift You're Given.