The Past Is What You Take With

It Was A Long Time Ago Now. And It Was Yesterday.

He Was Born A Politician. No, Ursula Thought, He Was Born A Baby, Like Everyone Else. And This Is What He Has Chosen To Become.

When I'm Writing, My Neural Pathways Get Blocked. I Can't Read. I Can Barely Hold A Conversation Without Forgetting Words And Names. I Wish I Could Wear The Same Clothes And Eat The Same Food Each Day.

Perhaps We Are On An Insula Ex Machina, An Artificial Place Not In The Real World At All -- A Backdrop For The Stories We Must Tell.

Everyone Said, 'well, You're Very Old For A First Novel,' And I Said, 'how Do You Write When You Haven't Lived? How Do You Write When You Have No Experience? How Do You Write Straight Out Of University?