That is what we do. That is what people do. They stay alive for each other.
She could have had a life as potent and dangerous as literature itself.
What I wanted to do seemed simple. I wanted something alive and shocking enough that it could be a morning in somebody's life. The most ordinary morning. Imagine, trying to do that.
Love is deep, a mystery - who wants to understand its every particular?
I seem to produce a novel approximately once every three years.
Insomniacs know better than anyone how it would be to haunt a house.