Actually, I'd already briefed him, early this morning. Since we were up at six. Since, at six, the nurse had been overcome with the overwhelming compulsion to take Fang's temperature right then.

And now I was trying to brush my hair,you know,when I thought about it,and looking at myself in mirrors,wondering if I was pretty.Pretty! A year ago,when my haair got in my eyes I hacked it off with a knife.The only thing important about my clothes was whether they were to stiff to move fast in battle. And Fang had been my best friend and an excellent fighter.

Fang (sarcasticaly): Go pick out a tree and I'll carve our initials in it. Max: (screams and goes in the bathroom)

My style is colloquial storytelling. It's the way we tell stories to one another - it's not writerly, it's not overdone.

I do 30 to 40 books a year, so it's a fair amount of reading. Back and forth between nonfiction and fiction. I usually have three or four things that are open on my desk, on my bed, on audiobook in the car.

I moved to leave, and Dylan actually grabbed me by my shoulders. I was so surprised that I forgot to karate-chop his elbows and break his arms.

Witihin seconds the headhunter had lost control of his car and it squealed, sliding sideways right into several other cars. Cool!' said the Gasman.