My Fiction Is Reviewed By

Life Is Neither Static Nor Unchanging. With No Individuality, There Can Be No Change, No Adaptation And, In An Inherently Changing World, Any Species Unable To Adapt Is Also Doomed.

Art Was As Much In The Activity As In The Results. Works Of Art Were Not Just The Finished Product, But The Thought, The Action, The Process That Created Them.

But When Did You See Her, Talk To Me? When Did You See Her Go Into The Cave? Why Did You Threaten To Strike A Spirit? You Still Don't Understand, Do You? You Acknowledged Her, Broud, She Has Beaten You. You Did Everything You Could To Her, You Even Cursed Her. She's Dead, And Still She Won. She Was A Woman, And She Had More Courage Than You, Broud, More Determination, More Self-control. She Was More Man Than You Are. Ayla Should Have Been The Son Of My Mate.

I Had Tears Coming Out Of My Eyes. And It Was The Characters That Got Me There.

I Had An Idea For A Story About A Young Woman Who Was Living With People Who Were Different, Not Just Superficially Different - Such As Hair Colour, Or Eye Colour, Or Skin Colour - But Different In Some Significant Way.