If You Are Able To

What A Bog And Labyrinth The Human Essence Is... We Are All Overbrained And Overemotioned.

Most Novels I Come Across Have All The Excitement Of A Long Trip On A Bus With A Sensitive Glee Club. Yammer And Chat.

I Don't Write Under The Ghost Of Faulkner. I Live In The Same Town And Find His Life And Work Inspiring, But That's It. I Have A Motorcycle And Tool Along The Country Lanes. I Travel At My Own Speed.

I Grew Up When People Seemed Actually To Be Hurting Themselves For Their Art. Of Course, Some Of It Was Phony.

I Found Out About Reviews Early On. They're Mostly Written By Sad Men On Bad Afternoons. That's Probably Why I'm Less Angry Than Some Writers, Who Are So Narcissistic They Consider Every Line Of Every Review, Even A Thoughtful One, As Major Treason.