Yes. Yes I Am. I Am A

Where There Was Nature And Earth, Life And Water, I Saw A Desert Landscape That Was Unending, Resembling Some Sort Of Crater, So Devoid Of Reason And Light And Spirit That The Mind Could Not Grasp It On Any Sort Of Conscious Level And If You Came Close The Mind Would Reel Backward, Unable To Take It In. It Was A Vision So Clear And Real And Vital To Me That In Its Purity It Was Almost Abstract. This Was What I Could Understand, This Was How I Lived My Life, What I Constructed My Movement Around, How I Dealt With The Tangible.

I Needed Something--the Distraction Of Another Life--to Alleviate Fear.

I Like The Idea Of A Writer Being Haunted By His Own Creation, Especially If The Writer Resents The Way The Character Defines Him.

I Write Books To Relieve ­myself Of Pain. That's The Prime Motivator To Write. Period.

When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough Go Drinking.