She looked around. "Oh, I've just got to hug somebody! You!" And she hugged Puck, the little ghost horse. "And you." She hugged Pook, and Peek, and even the nose of the moat monster. "But not you," she decided, encountering the zombie.

Obviously it could be, because it was.

It would be easier to write a novel without reader input, but I feel the fiction is richer for it.

I do one Xanth novel a year, because at the moment that is all that publishers will accept; they don't want any other type of fiction from me, so Xanth pays my way.

All things make sense; you just have to fathom how they make sense.

A horse is wonderful by definition.

But one must go where one's road leads, even when it's a distressing road.