When I Was Younger I Was Attracted

I Never Wanted To Get To A Point In My Life Where I Knew What Was Going To Happen Next. I Felt Like Most People Just Couldn't Wait Until They Found Themselves Settled Down Into A Routine And They Didn't Have To Think About The Next Day, Or The Next Year, Or The Next Decade Because It Was All Planned Out For Them. I Can't Understand How People Can Settle For Having Just One Life.

I Started Out As A Poet Who Primarily Wanted To Write About Image And Moment. Over The Years I've Been Trying To Teach Myself How To Do Plot And Scene. My First Story Collection Had The Most Issues With The Plotlessness, And When I Was Writing My Second Collection I Was Teaching Myself How To Make Things Happen.

I've Been Reading Peter Straub Since I Was A Teenager, And His Work Is Hardwired Into My Brain. A Dark Matter Contains Echoes Of All That Has Been Great About Straub's Previous Work And Builds Upon It. This Rashomon-like Tale Is As Spooky And Frightening As Anything He Has Written, But It's Also An Intense And Moving Celebration Of Love. Out Of The Darkness Comes, Ultimately, A Surprising And Haunting Sense Of Joy.

I Think At A Certain Point The Book Develops A Certain Weight, Or Pressure. You've Been Pushing The Rock Up The Hill For A Long Time And Then It Starts To Roll And Things Do Start To Come Together In The Last Two Thirds.

My Main Reader Was My Wife Sheila, And I Haven't Written A Lot Since She Died.