An Unjust World Represented As Harmonious Is

I Cannot Live Or Write Without Music. It Stimulates The Normally Dormant Parts Of My Brain That Come In Handy When Constructing Fiction.

I Loved You Because There Was No Other Place For Me To Go. We Were Married Because We Did Not Know What Else To Do With Each Other. You Never Knew Me, Nothing About Me, What Died Inside Me, What Lived Invisibly.

There Has To Be A Kind Of Grassroots Push, A Movement, As It Were, Against The Inherent Isolationism Of American Capitalism As Practiced In The Publishing Industry. There Need To Be Grants And Government Support And A Few Publishers, Mainstream And Independent, Who Are Not Afraid To Challenge American Readership. We Need To Build A Network Of Translators, Publishers And Readers. We Hope That Our Annual Anthology Might Provide An Upsurge In Interest For European Fiction And Then, As We Publish It Every Year, Become A Habit To Many Readers.

A Particular Piece Of Music Attaches Itself To The Piece I'm Writing, And There Is Nothing Else I Can Listen To. Every Day I Return To The Same Space To Write, The Music Providing Both The Walls And The Pictures On The Walls.

I've Never Meditated For A Moment In My Life. I Don't Know How It Works. But One Of The Things You Have To Do To Put Yourself In The Meditating Mode Is Stop Narrating Yourself To Yourself.