What Is A Writer Of Fiction But

In My Dreams I Gorge On Chocolates, I Roll In Chocolates, And Their Texture Is Not Brittle But Soft As Flesh, Like A Thousand Mouths On My Body, Devouring Me In Fluttering Small Bites. To Die Beneath Their Tender Gluttony Seems The Culmination Of Every Temptation I Have Ever Known.

All Those Moments, Those Memories. Everything That We Are, Compressed In Just Two Or Three Kilos Of Paper — The Weight Of A Human Heart.

Everything Comes Home, My Mother Used To Say; Every Word Spoken, Every Shadow Cast, Every Footprint In The Sand. It Can't Be Helped; It's Part Of What Makes Us Who We Are.

My Heroes And Heroines Are Often Unlikely People Who Are Dragged Into Situations Without Meaning To Become Involved, Or People With A Past That Has Never Quite Left Them. They Are Often Isolated, Introspective People, Often Confrontational Or Anarchic In Some Way, Often Damaged Or Secretly Unhappy Or Incomplete.

Like A Domestic Cat, Purring On The Sofa By Day, But By Night, A Strutting Queen, A Natural Killer, Disdainful Of Her Other Life.