My Kind [vampires] Does Not Surprise Easily,"

My Books Happen. They Tend To Blast In From Nowhere, Seize Me By The Throat, And Howl 'write Me! Write Me Now!' But They Rarely Stand Still Long Enough For Me To See What And Who They Are, Before They Hurtle Away Again. And So I Spend A Lot Of Time Running After Them, Like A Thrown Rider After An Escaped Horse, Saying 'wait For Me! Wait For Me!' And Waving My Notebook In The Air.

I Smiled. "i Understand Now. But It Doesn't Matter And You Needn't Apologize. They Have Been Very Kind To Me Too. Even If We Did Differ A Little About Suitable Dresses." He Considered Me A Moment, A Mischievous Light Creeping Into His Eyes, And Said: "was That The Dress - That Night You Wouldn't Come Out Of Your Room?" I Grinned And Nodded, And We Both Laughed.

...there Remained A Strange Formality Between Them, And Her Pleasure In His Presence Felt Too Much Like Missing Him Had Felt During The Last Week.

I Don't Differentiate In The Way That The Genre Creators Want Differentiation To Be Made. I Feel That I Have Never Written Children's Or Ya Stories Particularly.

Vampire. Dangerous. Unknowable. Seriously Creepy. This One's Name Was Constantine. We'd Met Before.