I Write Anywhere - When I Have

I Work At The Sentences. Many Of The Things People Find Distinctive About My Writing, I Think Of As Natural.

And What Amazes Me As I Hit The Motorway Is Not The Fact That Everyone Loses Someone, But That Everyone Loves Someone. It Seems Like Such A Massive Waste Of Energy -- And We All Do It, All The People Beetling Along Between The White Lines, Merging, Converging, Overtaking. We Each Love Someone, Even Though They Will Die. And We Keep Loving Them, Even When They Are Not There To Love Any More. And There Is No Logic Or Use To Any Of This, That I Can See.

There Are Little Thoughts In Your Head That Can Grow Until They Eat Your Entire Mind. Just Tiny Little Thoughts--they Are Like A Cancer, There Is No Telling What Triggers The Spread, Or Who Will Be Struck, And Why Some Get It And Others Are Spared.

It Is Very Hard To Trace The Effect Of Words On A Life.

If You Grow Up In Ireland And Read Books Then You Really Are Obliged To Attempt Your Own Some Time. It Is Not Exactly A Choice. I Still Don't Know If I Am A Writer. Believe Me, There Are Days When I Have My Doubts.