When I Was Seventeen, I Worked As

The Actual Writing Time Is A Lot Shorter Than The Thinking Time. I Don't Do Too Many Notes. I Keep It Mostly In My Head. I Usually Start Writing A New Book Around January, And It's Due October 1.

But Sometimes, Maybe Most Times, It Isn't That Clear. It Is Dark And You Are Near The Edge Of A Cliff, But You're Moving Slowly, Not Sure Which Direction You're Heading In. Your Steps Are Tentative But They Are Still Blind In The Night. You Don't Realize How Close You Are To The Edge, How The Soft Earth Could Give Away, How You Could Just Slip A Bit And Suddenly Plunge Into The Dark.

If I Had, Say, A Tall, Amateur Male Lead Living On The Campus Of A Rural College (six Years), The Next Book Might Feature A Short, Cop Who Lives In The Heart Of Manhattan (missing You).

"so Basically, That Entire Theory Is Blown To Hell."not Basically," Win Corrected. "entirely."

The Ugliest Truth, In The End, Was Still Better Than The Prettiest Of Lies.