Show Me The Path I Must Walk

Even The Sky Was Grey. Grey And Grey And Greyer. The Whole World Grey, Everywhere You Look, Everything Grey Except The Eyes Of The Bride. The Eyes Of The Bride Were Brown. Big And Brown And Full Of Fear.

The Man Who Passes The Sentence Should Swing The Sword. If You Would Take A Man's Life, You Owe It To Him To Look Into His Eyes And Hear His Final Words. And If You Cannot Bear To Do That, Then Perhaps The Man Does Not Deserve To Die.

I Love Fantasy. I Grew Up Reading Fantasy. But, I Wanted To Put A Somewhat Different Spin On It. The Whole Trope Of Absolute Good Versus Absolute Evil, Which Was Wonderful In The Hands Of J.r. Tolkien, Became Cliche And Rote In The Hands Of The Many Tolkien Imitators That Followed.

Of Course You Know Him. Everyone Knows A Pear-shaped Man.

I Hate Outlines. I Have A Broad Sense Of Where The Story Is Going; I Know The End, I Know The End Of The Principal Characters, And I Know The Major Turning Points And Events From The Books, The Climaxes For Each Book, But I Don't Necessarily Know Each Twist And Turn Along The Way. That's Something I Discover In The Course Of Writing And That's What Makes Writing Enjoyable. I Think If I Outlined Comprehensively And Stuck To The Outline The Actual Writing Would Be Boring.