There Are So Many Talented Young Writers

I Don't Really Recognise Success. I Don't See Myself As On An Upwardly Mobile Trajectory. I See Myself As On The Edge Of A Cliff About To Fall Off.

I'm On The Verge Of A Total Breakdown. Sciatica. Taxes. Cars. Fleas, Possibly. It's An Absurd Existence.

Some Ego Is Involved Because I Guess One Wants To Be Perceived As A Good Clown And One Puts One's Name On The Art; But It's So Hard To Do Anything In Life, Trapped As We Are In Our Bodies, That Is Purely Selfless For Others... Somehow The Self Is Always Involved.

I Need To Stay In The Present And Use That New-age Mantra: 'i'm Okay Right Now.' But I Worry About All The Things I'm Failing At Every Moment.

After My First Novel, My Mother Said To Me, 'why Don't You Make Your Writing More Funny? You're So Funny In Person.' Because My First Novel Was Rather Dark. And I Don't Know, But Something About What She Said Was True. 'yes, Why Don't I?' Maybe I Was Afraid To Be Funny In The Writing. But Since Then, Seven Books Later, Almost Everything I've Done Has A Comedic Edge To It.