Always Remember, With A Strong

But History Is A Faithless Teller Whose Cruel Recourse To Hindsight Makes Fools Of Its Actors.

It Was The Sibling Thing, I Suppose. I Was Fascinated By The Intricate Tangle Of Love And Duty And Resentment That Tied Them Together. The Glances They Exchanged; The Complicated Balance Of Power Established Over Decades; The Games I Would Never Play With Rules I Would Never Fully Understand. And Perhaps That Was Key: They Were Such A Natural Group That They Made Me Feel Remarkably Singular By Comparison. To Watch Them Together Was To Know Strongly, Painfully, All That I'd Been Missing.

A Twinge At The Edge Of Her Lips And She Continued, The Soft, Slow Lilt Of Recitation: "ancient Walls That Sing The Distant Hours.

Some Say I'm An Overnight Success. Well, That Was A Very Long Night That Lasted About 10 Years. But While I Do, Of Course, Now Feel The Pressure Having Had Books That Have Been Very Successful, I Just Know I Have To Concentrate On Writing For Myself. I Can't Worry About Genres Or Markets Or What Might Be Commercial Or Not. That Never Works.

The Girl In The Mirror Caught My Eye Briefly...it Is An Uncanny Feeling, That Rare Occasion When One Catches A Glimpse Of Oneself In Repose. An Unguarded Moment, Stripped Of Artifice, When One Forgets To Fool Even Oneself.