Is It More Childish And Foolish To

In The Deepest Places, Where Physical Norms Collapse Under The Crushing Water, Bodies Still Fall Softly Through The Dark, Days After Their Vessels Have Capsized. They Decay On Their Long Journey Down. Nothing Will Hit The Black Sand At The Bottom Of The World But Algae-covered Bones.

My Dad Hates Umbrellas, Said Deeba, Swinging Her Own. When It Rains He Always Says The Same Thing. 'i Do Not Believe The Presence Of Moisture In The Air Is Sufficient Reason To Overturn Society's Usual Sensible Taboo Against Wielding Spiked Clubs At Eye Level.

One Of The Things That I Love So Much About Fantasy And Science Fiction Is That The Weirdness That It Creates Is Always At Its Best Completely Its Own End And Also Metaphorically And Symbolically Laden.

When I'm Writing A Book, Generally I Start With The Mood And Setting, Along With A Couple Of Specific Images—things That Have Come Into My Head, Totally Abstracted From Any Narrative, That I've Fixated On. After That, I Construct A World, Or An Area, Into Which That General Setting, That Atmosphere, And The Specific Images I've Focused On Can Fit.

The Problem With Most Genre Fantasy Is That It's Not Nearly Fantastic Enough. It's Escapist, But It Can't Escape.