A Trial Is Two Narratives Competing For

But Sometimes, Maybe Most Times, It Isn't That Clear. It Is Dark And You Are Near The Edge Of A Cliff, But You're Moving Slowly, Not Sure Which Direction You're Heading In. Your Steps Are Tentative But They Are Still Blind In The Night. You Don't Realize How Close You Are To The Edge, How The Soft Earth Could Give Away, How You Could Just Slip A Bit And Suddenly Plunge Into The Dark.

A Dancer On Break Approached Him. She Smiled. Each Tooth Was Angled In A Different Direction, As If Her Mouth Were The Masterwork Of A Mad Orthodontist. "hi," She Said. "hi." "you're Really Cute." "i Don't Have Any Money." She Spun And Walked Away. Ah, Romance.

Sometimes Even When The Book Is Over I Dont Know Whos Good And Whos Bad. Its Really More Interesting, I Think, To Write About Gray Characters Than It Is To Write About Black And White.

The Muse Is Not An Angelic Voice That Sits On Your Shoulder And Sings Sweetly. The Muse Is The Most Annoying Whine. The Muse Isn't Hard To Find, Just Hard To Like - She Follows You Everywhere, Tapping You On The Shoulder, Demanding That You Stop Doing Whatever Else You Might Be Doing And Pay Attention To Her.

I Am, After All, A Thriller Writer. I Routinely Delve Into The Darkest Chambers Of The Human Heart. I've Written About Murder, Kidnapping, Depravity, Horror, Violence, And Disfigurement.