There is so much going on all over the world that it's impossible for one person to keep up. And I can't.

Once upon a time, novelists of the 19th century, such as Charles Dickens, published in serial form.

It doesn't really matter what "genre" your book is. What matters is that it's a good book of its kind. Whatever that kind may be.

There is so much going on all over the world that it's impossible for one person to keep up. And I can't.

For an instant she felt them, their identities, almost their substance, pass over her head like a wave. At some time she would be — or no, already she was like that too; she was one of them, her body the same, identical, merged with that other flesh that choked the air in the flowered room with its sweet organic scent; she felt suffocated by this thick sargasso-sea of femininity.

Thy only authentic ending is the one provided here: John and Mary die, John and Mary die, John and Mary die.

When I was 16, I started publishing all kinds of things in school magazines.