I Just Thought I Was

My Agent And I Put Out My Proposal One Thursday Afternoon In August, 1998. Publishers Started Bidding Immediately, And That Process Progressed For A Few Days.

His Conviction That Everything Happened For A Reason, And Would Come To Good, Gave Him Laughing Equanimity Even In Hard Times.

I Have Vertigo. Vertigo Makes It Feel Like The Floor Is Pitching Up And Down. Things Seem To Be Spinning. It's Like Standing On The Deck Of A Ship In Really High Seas.

This Self-respect And Sense Of Self-worth, The Innermost Armament Of The Soul, Lies At The Heart Of Humanness; To Be Deprived Of It Is To Be Dehumanized, To Be Cleaved From, And Cast Below, Mankind.

For Me, Being A Writer Was Never A Choice. I Was Born One. All Through My Childhood I Wrote Short Stories And Stuffed Them In Drawers. I Wrote On Everything. I Didn't Do My Homework So I Could Write