Nothing Bad Can Happen To

The Pleasure Isn't In Owning The Person. The Pleasure Is This. Having Another Contender In The Room With You.

No Matter How Much You Know, No Matter How Much You Think, No Matter How Much You Plot And You Connive And You Plan, You're Not Superior To Sex. It's A Very Risky Game.... It's Sex That Disorders Our Normally Ordered Lives.

I Cannot And Do Not Live In The World Of Discretion, Not As A Writer, Anyway. I Would Prefer To, I Assure You - It Would Make Life Easier. But Discretion Is, Unfortunately, Not For Novelists.

You Go To Someone And You Think, 'i'll Tell Him This.' But Why? The Impulse Is That The Telling Is Going To Relieve You. And That's Why You Feel Awful Later--you've Relieved Yourself, And If It Truly Is Tragic And Awful, It's Not Better, It's Worse---the Exhibitionism Inherent To A Confession Has Only Made The Misery Worse.

When I Have A First Draft, I Have A Floor Under My Feet That I Can Walk On. And Then, Especially With The Help Of The Computer, Rewriting Is So Easy To Do With The Computer, Much Easier Than It Used To Be With The Typewriter. So The Books Go Through Numerous Drafts.