Look how black the sky is, the writer said. I made it that way.

I like the idea of a writer being haunted by his own creation, especially if the writer resents the way the character defines him.

'Do you know what Ed Gein said about women?' [...] '"When I see a pretty girl walking down the street I think two things. One part of me wants to take her out and talk to her and be real nice and sweet and treat her right."' I stop finish my J&B in one swallow. 'What does the other part of him think?' Hamlin asks tentatively. 'What her head would look like on a stick...'

Our lives are not all interconnected. That theory is a crock. Some people truly do not need to be here.

I want to take you away from this," I say, motioning around the kitchen, spastic. "From sushi and elves and... STUFF.

Disappear Here. The syringe fills with blood. You're a beautiful boy and that's all that matters. Wonder if he's for sale. People are afraid to merge. To merge.

You do not write a novel for praise, or thinking of your audience. You write for yourself; you work out between you and your pen the things that intrigue you