When The Red Star Bleeds And The

She Would Die As She Had Lived, With An Axe In Her Hand And A Laugh Upon Her Lips.

I've Always Taken That As My Guiding Principle And The Rest Is Just Set Dressing. You Can Have Dragons In It, Or Aliens And Starships, Or A Western About A Gunslinger, Or Even Literary Fiction, And Ultimately You're Still Writing About The Human Heart In Conflict With Itself.

My Dreams Are The Usual Incoherent Nonsense. Like Most Writers, At Some Point In My Career I Thought, Well, I Have These Great Dreams But I Always Forget Them In The Morning So I’ll Leave A Pad On My Bedside Table So I Can Write It Down, And Then You Have Some Incredible Dream And You Write It Down And The Next Morning You Wake Up And You’ve Written ‘purple Socks’.

A Lot Of Writing Takes Place In The Subconscious, And It's Bound To Have An Effect.

When I Am Writing Best, I Really Am Lost In My World. I Lose Track Of The Outside World. I Have A Difficult Time Balancing Between My Real World And The Artificial World.