I Take Real People And Put Them

A New Sickness Invaded Jerry, The Sickness Of Knowing What He Had Become, Another Animal, Another Beast, Another Violent Person In A Violent World, Inflicting Damage, Not Disturbing The Universe But Damaging It.

A Terrific Sadness Swept Over Jerry. As If Somebody Had Died. The Way He Felt Standing In The Cemetry That Day They Buried His Mother. And Nothing You Could Do About It.

You Hope That People Read Your Book And Say "yes, This Is The Way It Is Or Could Be." But Then You Have No Way Of Knowing Until The Reader Reads The Book. Actually, The Critical Response Doesn't Worry Me. I've Had Very Few Reviews That Have Upset Me.

I Simply Write With An Intelligent Reader In Mind. I Don't Think About How Old They Are.

A Man I Know Who Writes And Aspires To Be A Novelist Does Very Little Reading, And He's Not That Successful. But I Think It's Because He's Like The Kid Who Wants To Be A Ballplayer And Never Goes To The Ballpark Or Tries To Hit A Ball. So I'd Say Reading Is The Most Important Thing That I Do, Besides The Actual Writing. I'm Always Asking As I Read, "how Did The Writer Do This? Why Do I Suddenly Have Tears In My Eyes? Why Am I Crying?"