I Wanted To Give Readers The Feeling

In Later Years, Holding Forth To An Interviewer Or To An Audience Of Aging Fans At A Comic Book Convention, Sam Clay Liked To Declare, Apropos Of His And Joe Kavalier's Greatest Creation, That Back When He Was A Boy, Sealed And Hog-tied Inside The Airtight Vessel Known As Brooklyn, New York, He Had Been Haunted By Dreams Of Harry Houdini.

She Was A Natural Blonde, With Delicate Hands And Feet, And In Her Youthful Photographs One Saw A Girl With Mocking Eyes And A Tragic Smile, The Course Of Whose Life Would Conspire In Time To Transpose That Pair Of Adjectives.

I Found One Remaining Box Of Comics Which I Had Saved. When I Opened It Up And That Smell Came Pouring Out, That Old Paper Smell, I Was Struck By A Rush Of Memories, A Sense Of My Childhood Self That Seemed To Be Contained In There.

Writers, Unlike Most People, Tell Their Best Lies When They Are Alone.

I'm Never Going To Be A Tom Clancy. And I Wouldn't Really Want To Be - Not That I Have Anything Against Him, And I Wish Him Continued Success - Because That's Not Why I'm Writing Novels. I'm Doing It Because I Have To. I Feel Like I Have To, Anyway.