Anything For Gold And Experience.

When I'm Writing A Book, Generally I Start With The Mood And Setting, Along With A Couple Of Specific Images—things That Have Come Into My Head, Totally Abstracted From Any Narrative, That I've Fixated On. After That, I Construct A World, Or An Area, Into Which That General Setting, That Atmosphere, And The Specific Images I've Focused On Can Fit.

Scars Are Memory. Like Sutures. They Stitch The Past To Me.

We Would Never Call Inexplicable Little Insights Hunches, For Fear Of Drawing The Universe's Attention. But They Happened, And You Knew You Had Been In The Proximity Of One That Had Come Through If You Saw A Detective Kiss His Or Her Fingers And Touch His Or Her Chest Where A Pendant To Warsha, Patron Saint Of Inexplicable Inspirations, Would, Theoretically, Hang.

I Have Danced With The Spider. I Have Cut A Caper With The Dancing Mad God.

We Should Have Just Killed Him, That's A Lesson, Don't Get Creative With Revenge