The surfeit of bad trends pushes me to set my stories in worlds which are often diminished versions of our own present.

Nature has become something new. It is ours now, truly. And if our creation devours us, how poetic will that be?

I do not fight battles that cannot be won. Do not confuse that with cowardice.

Of course, the more you read, the more you learn, and ultimately there is more information than you can ever use. The difficulty is that as an outsider, you know you're too ignorant for your own good, and so the urge to keep researching and *never* start writing is pretty strong.

For pleasure, I'll read military sf, or Elmore Leonard capers, anything that's fast and fun. Otherwise, I mostly pick at books, without any clear focus.

Laws are confusing documents. They get in the way of justice.

Some things, it was better not to think about. It just made you mad and angry.