I Have Very Few Hobbies. In Fact,

After My First Novel, My Mother Said To Me, 'why Don't You Make Your Writing More Funny? You're So Funny In Person.' Because My First Novel Was Rather Dark. And I Don't Know, But Something About What She Said Was True. 'yes, Why Don't I?' Maybe I Was Afraid To Be Funny In The Writing. But Since Then, Seven Books Later, Almost Everything I've Done Has A Comedic Edge To It.

I Didn't Think I Was In A Morbid Mood, But It Appears I Am. My Mind Goes Round And Round Trying To Figure Things Out, But I Always Come Back To The Same Two Things: Loneliness And Death. Life Ends Before We Figure Anything Out, Most Importantly How Not To Be Lonely. Solitude Is Fine. But Feeling Like You Have No One To Love - Abject Lonliness - Is Not Alright.

I Live For Coincidences. They Briefly Give To Me The Illusion Or The Hope That There's A Pattern To My Life, And If There's A Pattern, Then Maybe I'm Moving Toward Some Kind Of Destiny Where It's All Explained.

Having A Show Get Canceled Is Like, 'oh, You Have Caviar Between Your Teeth,' You Know What I Mean? Because You Had A Show In The First Place.

I Drink Coffee. Without Coffee, I Probably Couldnt Write.