Memories, You See, Hurt. The Good Ones

Let Me Back Up A Little And Tell You Why I Prefer Writing To Real Life: You Can Rewrite. A Novel, For Example, Can Be Cleaned Up, Altered, Trimmed, Improved. Life, On The Other Hand, Is One Big Messy Rough Draft.

I Don't Find Any Real Rivalries With Crime And Thriller Writers Anyway. That Might Sound A Little Pollyanna, But For The Most Part The Writers I Compete With, If You Want To Use That Word, It's A Pretty Friendly Rivalry. I Think We All Realise That The Boat Rises And Sinks Together.

Hope Can Be The Most Wonderful Thing In The World Or It Can Crush Your Heart Like An Eggshell.

...desperation Can Toy With You And If You Give Desperation Any Wiggle Room, It Will Find Alternative Answers

I Remember One Time I Heard This English Professor Asking The Class What The World's Scariest Noise Is. Is It A Man Crying Out In Pain? A Woman's Scream Of Terror? A Gunshot? A Baby Crying? And The Professor Shakes His Head And Says, 'no, The Scariest Noise Is, You're All Alone In Your Dark House, You Know You're All Alone, You Know That There Is No Chance Anyone Else Is Home Or Within Miles—and Then, Suddenly, From Upstairs, You Hear The Toilet Flush.