And Then He Greeted Death As An

Be Ruthless About Protecting Writing Days....althoug H Writing Has Been My Actual Job For Several Years Now, I Still Seem To Have To Fight For Time In Which To Do It.

Harry Felt Winded, As Though He Had Just Walked Into Something Heavy. He Had Last Seen Those Cool Gray Eyes Through Slits In A Death Eater’s Hood, And Last Heard That Man’s Voice Jeering In A Dark Graveyard While Lord Voldemort Tortured Him. He Could Not Believe That Lucius Malfoy Dared Look Him In The Face; He Could Not Believe That He Was Here, In The Ministry Of Magic, Or That Cornelius Fudge Was Talking To Him, When Harry Had Told Fudge Mere Weeks Ago That Malfoy Was A Death Eater.

Ah, Music. A Magic Beyond All We Do Here!

I Sometimes Find, And I Am Sure You Know The Feeling, That I Simply Have Too Many Thoughts And Memories Crammed Into My Mind.

I've Only Suffered Writer's Block Badly Once, And That Was During The Writing Of Chamber Of Secrets. I Had My First Burst Of Publicity About The First Book And It Paralysed Me. I Was Scared The Second Book Wouldn't Measure Up, But I Got Through It!