I find myself in this bizarre position in which everything I write and talk about is pretty much about this issue, the environment. It feels a little too comfortable, because at the end of the day I can rationalize that I'm doing my share. I don't know if I actually am, I don't know if I should be more of an activist than I am. But at the end of the day, everybody needs to do those things that they're most likely to continue doing, and that aren't going to burn them out.

So many differing opinions and philosophies... are rarely housed under the roof of a single magazine.

I always try to be alert to the potential for repetition, for a decaying orbit with regard to my use of technique, etc.

What occurs after revelation and paralysis?

History has shown us all too often the consequences of dreaming poorly or not at all.

I had learned so much about the world that I had decided to withdraw from it.

I have always tended toward a lush prose style, but I take care to modulate it from story to story and to strip it down entirely when necessary.