I Write Fiction. I Make Things Up,

There's A Mouse In Here With Me. He's Sitting There In The Light Of The Lamp, Looking Up At Me. He Seems As Surprised To See Me As I Am To See Him. There He Goes. I Can Hear Him Still, Scurrying About Somewhere Under The Hayrick. I Think He's Gone Now. I Hope He Comes Back. I Miss Him Already.

Stories Make You Think And Dream; Books Make You Want To Ask Questions.

But Try As I Might, I Never Got To Eat Any Of Her Pastries, And Do You Know, She Never Even Offered Me One.

Our Great Problem, Is That Children Now Know Whatever They Want To Know - At The Press Of A Button They Can Discover All Horrors Of The Adult World. They Know Very Early On That The World Is Sometimes A Very Dark, Difficult And Complex Place, And The Literature They Read Must Reflect That. Otherwise We're Just Entertaining Them To Pass The Time.

Wherever My Story Takes Me, However Dark And Difficult The Theme, There Is Always Some Hope And Redemption, Not Because Readers Like Happy Endings, But Because I Am An Optimist At Heart. I Know The Sun Will Rise In The Morning, That There Is A Light At The End Of Every Tunnel.