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In New York And L.a., There Is Sort Of That Silent Competition To Be On The Cutting Edge Of Something. You End Up Having A Conversation With How The World Receives Your Work, Especially If You Are Writing Narrative, Not Fiction. Sometimes It Is An Awkward Conversation. It's Like Group Therapy.

If I Go Into A Sandwich Shop Or Anywhere That Features 'today's Specials' On A Chalkboard More Than 10 Feet Away, I Have To Ask For A Printed Menu. I Smile At People I Don't Know On The Street And Ignore Those I Do. When At Home, I Often Find Myself Grabbing My 'back-up' Glasses To Search For The Better-loved Pair I Have Left On Top Of My Dresser.

They Say It's Not The Snoring Itself But Those Anxiety-packed Moments In Between Snorts. It's The Waiting For The Nasal Passages Of The Person Lying Beside You To Strike Again. And Strike It Always Does. In The Dark, Almost Against Your Will, You Produce That Special Glare Reserved For People Who Cannot Control Their Own Behaviour.

My Mother Is A Special Education Teacher But Also An Artist, And My Father An Advertising Executive. They Are About As Wacky As You Can Get Without Being Alcoholics.

Air Travel Is The Safest Form Of Travel Aside From Walking; Even Then, The Chances Of Being Hit By A Public Bus At 30,000 Feet Are Remarkably Slim. I Also Have No Problem With Confined Spaces. Or Heights. What I Am Afraid Of Is Speed.