In my long, long years toiling around the publishing industry, I've found that women simply don't stick to the writing with the same fervor that men do.

Hatespeak is usually more honest than lovespeak, and it's always better than doublespeak.

Nowadays, you suffer the same risks - ostracism, career loss, possible assault - for being perceived as racist that you would have encountered a century ago for daring to question racist ideology.

I can't tell you how many times people - through the anonymity and safety of the Internet, of course - have told me 'You beat women' as if it was an ongoing, daily thing. The only person ever brave enough to say it to my face quickly surrendered his courage when I said, 'Would you like to step outside and see if I can beat men, too?'

If anything, I've probably tended more toward humor in my writing and veered more toward pleasure in my personal life.

My oldest brother was stabbed thirty to forty times and strangled to death with his own belt when I was eight years old. Much of my life has been pockmarked with violence. So I had a natural interest in the topic, along with a strong home-field advantage.

I don't regret any of my transgressions, because I believe I paid for them a million times over.