Myth Continues To Be A

It Took Me The Bulk Of My Twenties To Write One Book About A Family Of Alligator Wrestlers. Whereas Somebody Like Steve Martin Is Releasing His Latest Banjo Symphony, Having Just Completed Another Movie And Acclaimed, Best-selling Novel.

It Was Sad And Fierce All At Once, Alive With A Lonely Purity.

My Favorite Classes Were Always Dumb Nerdy Vocabulary.

Heaven, Kiwi Thought, Would Be The Reading Room Of A Great Library. But It Would Be Private. Cozy. You Wouldn't Have To Worry About Some Squeaky-shoed Librarian Turning The Lights Off On You Or Gauging Your Literacy By Reading The Names On Your Book Spines, And There Wouldn't Be A Single Other Patron. The Whole Place Would Hum With A Library's Peace, Filtering Softly Over You Like White Bars Of Light.

Sometimes, When You're Writing Sentence By Sentence, You're Not Really Sure What Footprints You're Going To Fall Into, Or What Ghosts Might Appear.