My Worlds Are Complex, And

Inevitably The Party Trying To Resolve A Matter Had To Contend With The Party Most Willing To Exploit It.

A Year Of Ending And Beginning, A Year Of Loss And Finding... And All Of You Were With Me Through The Storm. I Drink Your Health, Your Wealth, Your Fortune For Long Years To Come, And I Hope For Many More Days In Which We Can Gather Like This.

My Worlds Are Complex, And Often Suggest More Than One Story.

Writing Day And Night For Months… That’s Hard.

Science Fiction Is A Dialogue, A Tennis Match, In Which The Idea Is Volleyed From One Side Of The Net To The Other. Ridiculous To Say That Someone 'stole' An Idea: No, No, A Thousand Times No. The Point Is The Volley, And How It's Carried, And What Statement Is Made By The Answering 'statement.' In Other Words — If Burroughs Initiates A Time-gate And Says It Works Randomly, And Then Norton Has Time Gates Confounded With The Perilous Seat, The Siege Perilous Of The Round Table, And Locates It In A Bar On A Rainy Night — Do You See Both The Humor And The Volley In The Tennis Match?