Sometimes It’s Only Madness That Makes Us

I'm Lucky To Have A Job Doing Something I Really Love To Do, And I'm Happy To Accept The Pressures Of Relentless Deadlines Or Reader Expectations As Necessary Evils. It's Probably Not As Stressful As Mining Coal Or Leading Men Into Battle.

I Write Constantly, So It Flows From One Project To The Next, And I Would Edit Everything Endlessly If I Had The Chance. I Can Always See Ways To Improve What I've Done. At The Same Time, Knowing It's All An Ongoing Life's Work Allows Me To Be Less Precious About Blind Alleys, Failed Experiments, And Misfires.

I Plan Years In Advance, But I Like To Leave Enough Space In The Narrative Scheme To Change Things, Because I Always Get My Best Ideas The Closer I Come To The End Of A Project, After I've Lived With It For A While.

And I Ask Him Why He Cuts His Arms With A Razor. "just Fo Feel. Just To Feel Something.

I Write Every Day, For Most Of The Day, So It's Just About Turning Into Metaphor Whatever's Going On In My Life, In The World, And In My Head. Every Nightmare, Every Moment Of Grief Or Joy Or Failure, Is A Moment I Can Convert Into Cash Via Words. I Use Everything. Turning Life Into Stories Is How I Make Sense Of My Experience.