As Far As I Can See, The

My Novels Tend To Come About From A Fusion Of Two Big Ideas, Creating A Critical Mass That Then Fissions, Throwing Off Hundreds Of Other Particles, Riffs, Tropes And Characters.

When George Vi - Displaying A Flair For Timing That Was Utterly Absent In His Lifetime - Upped And Died, The Way Was Clear For Her To Inhabit Her Logical Position As The Eminence Cerise, The Bolster Behind The Throne.

Lives Don't Divide Up Into Chapters. People Don't Just Talk, While Nothing's Going On In Their Head, And Then Respond. You Know, None Of These Things Actually Happen.

The Novelist, Quite Rightly, Fears The Psychoanalyst As Both An Enemy And A Usurper.

It Could Be Argued That Every Age Gets The Comfort Savagery Writer It Deserves.