The Thing About Stories Is

We Live And Learn, Or, Perhaps More Importantly We Learn And Live.

The Landscape Was Snow And Green Ice On Broken Mountains. These Weren't Old Mountains, Worn Down By Time And Weather And Full Of Gentle Ski Slopes, But Young, Sulky, Adolescent Mountains. They Held Secret Ravines And Merciless Crevices. One Yodel Out Of Place Would Attract, Not The Jolly Echo Of A Lonely Goatherd, But Fifty Tons Of Express-delivery Snow.

When People Say "how Do You Write A Book, How Does It All Happen?" I Say, You Line Things Up, And You Line Them Up As Actually As You Possibly Can, But Sooner Or Later The Book Has Got Momentum And It's Moving Along Under That Momentum. It's Like A Sculpture, If You're Working With The Grain Of The Wood, The Wood Will Start Defining What Shape It's Going To Become.

I Read The Best Works Of Some Of The Best Satirists, And Indeed Best Writers From The Beginning Of The Victorian Era To About The 1960s. If You Want To Be A Blacksmith, You Go And Watch The Blacksmith Working, And You Work Out What The Blacksmith Does.

Truthfully, Without Over-egging It, As I Often Do, The Library And Journalism, Those Things Made Me Who I Am.