Like All Right-listening Folk, I Am An

The High Arts Of Literature And Music Stand In A Curious Relationship To One Another, At Once Securely Comfortable And Deeply Uneasy - Rather Like A Long-term Marriage.

Things Are Only Boring If You Are Boring.

Lust Was A Positive High-tension Cable, Plugged Into My Core, Activating A Near-epileptic Seizure Of Conviction That This Was The One Thing I Had To Do In Life.

From Time To Time, As If Heaven-sent To Annoy, Someone Will Ask Me If I'm Self-disciplined When It Comes To My Work. I Usually Look Witheringly At Them And Snarl, 'what Do You Think?' I Mean, How Do You Imagine Anyone Writes A Quarter Of A Million Words A Year For Publication?

I'd Rather Fiddle With My Phone For Precious Seconds Than Neglect An Apostrophe; I'd Rather Insert A Word Laboriously Keyed Out Than Resort To Predictive Texting For A - Acceptable To Some - Synonym.