Lord, Let Me Heed The Angels You

Words Are Humanity's Greatest Natural Resource, But Most Of Us Have Trouble Figuring Out How To Put Them Together. Words Aren't Cheap. They Are Very Precious.

This Is What Art Is All About. It Is Weaving Fabric From The Feathers You Have Plucked From Your Own Breast. But No One Must Ever See The Process - Only The Finished Bolt Of Goods. They Must Never Suspect That That Crimson Thread Running Through The Pattern Is Blood.

As I Look Back On What I Have Written, I Can See That The Very Persons Who Have Taken Away My Time Are Those Who Have Given Me Something To Say.

Since My First Novel Was Rescued From A Slush Pile, It Makes Me Sad That Most Publishing Houses No Longer Accept Unsolicited Manuscripts. Nor Are Many Willing To Take Chances On Novels That Are Not Deemed Immediately "marketable."

The Name We Give To Something Shapes Our Attitude Toward It.