You May Have Gathered That I Am

You Know That Sickening Feeling Of Inadequacy And Over-exposure You Feel When You Look Upon Your Own Empurpled Prose? Relax Into The Awareness That This Ghastly Sensation Will Never, Ever Leave You, No Matter How Successful And Publicly Lauded You Become. It Is Intrinsic To The Real Business Of Writing And Should Be Cherished.

From Time To Time, As If Heaven-sent To Annoy, Someone Will Ask Me If I'm Self-disciplined When It Comes To My Work. I Usually Look Witheringly At Them And Snarl, 'what Do You Think?' I Mean, How Do You Imagine Anyone Writes A Quarter Of A Million Words A Year For Publication?

With Spectacular Events Taking Up So Much Of The Available Anxiety Quotient, We Need To Be Constantly Reminded Of The More Workaday Threats To Our Mortality - Threats That, While They May Also Be Functions Of Human Error, Have Become So Ubiquitous That We've Begun To Apprehend Them As Natural Phenomena.

I Always Wanted To Write Fiction. Always. As Far Back As I Can Remember It's Been Integral To My Sense Of Myself - Everything Else Was Always A Displacement Activity.

Mother Sighed With Exasperation. "look, There Aren't Any "people In Charge Of Death". When You Die You Move To Another Part Of London, That's All There Is To It. Period.