If Wishes Were Horses, Beggars Would Ride.

If You Can Still Write In Spite Of The Fact That You're Not Getting Paid, That Nobody Cares About What You're Writing, That Nobody Wants To Publish It, That Everybody Is Telling You To Do Something Else, And You Still Want To And You Still Enjoy It And You Can't Stop Doing It...then You're A Writer.

Some Books You Read. Some Books You Enjoy. But Some Books Just Swallow You Up, Heart And Soul.

Garden Work Clears The Mind.

I Like Autumn. The Drama Of It; The Golden Lion Roaring Through The Back Door Of The Year, Shaking Its Mane Of Leaves. A Dangerous Time; Of Violent Rages And Deceptive Calm, Of Fireworks In The Pockets And Conkers In The Fist.

I Like Literature That You Respond To In Some Way. You Laugh, You Cry, You Turn The Light On - That's Great, It's Eliciting A Response By Proxy.