I Guess I'm Curious About How People

How Can You Come To Understand Your Life When Even The Beginning Is So Complicated: A Single Cell Imprinted With The Color Of Your Eyes And The Shape Of Your Face The Pattern On Your Palm And The Moods That Will Shadow You Through Your Life. How Can You Be Alive When Every Choice You Make Breaks The World Into A Thousand Filaments Each Careless Step Branching Into Long Tributaries Of Alternate Lives Shuddering Outward And Outward Like Sheet Lightning.

You Can't Tell People How To Feel When They Read Your Work. You Can Only Hope To Connect.

I Also Have Just My Own Limits About Stuff. I'm Not Interested In Writing Graphically About Sexual Assault For Example. I Feel Like The Stuff That I'm Fascinated By Is The Stuff That's Part Of The Public Imagination Of What Horror Is. The Bleakness Is A Different Issue. I Think That Just Stems From My Personality. I Wish That I Offered A Little More Glimmer Of Hope Sometimes.

I Start With An Image, Then I Go From The Image Toward Exploring The Situation. Then I Write A Scene, And From The Scene I Find The Character, From The Character I Find The Larger Plot. It's Like Deductive Reasoning - I Start With The Smaller Stuff And Work Backward.

A Conclusion Is Simply The Place Where You Got Tired Of Thinking.