...and I Went Into The Garden And

Books Are Like People. Some Look Deceptively Attractive From A Distance, Some Deceptively Unappealing; Some Are Easy Company, Some Demand Hard Work That Isn’t Guaranteed To Pay Off. Some Become Friends And Say Friends For Life. Some Change In Our Absence - Or Perhaps It Is We Who Change In Theirs - And We Meet Up Again Only To Find That We Don’t Get Along Any More.

I've Worked In Television Long Enough To Know That When You Stop Enjoying That Type Of Thing You Go Home And Do Something Else.

And It Occurred To Him That There Were Two Parts To Being A Better Person. One Part Was Thinking About Other People. The Other Part Was Not Giving A Toss What Other People Thought.

People Think That Alien Spaceships Would Be Solid And Made Of Metal And Have Lights All Over Them And Move Slowly Through The Sky Because That Is How We Would Build A Spaceship If We Were Able To Build One That Big. But Aliens, If They Exist, Would Probably Be Very Different From Us. They Might Look Like Big Slugs, Or Be Flat Like Reflections. Or They Might Be Bigger Than Planets. Or They Might Not Have Bodies At All. They Might Just Be Information, Like In A Computer. And Their Spaceships Might Look Like Clouds, Or Be Made Up Of Unconnected Objects Like Dust Or Leaves.

The One Thing You Have To Do If You Write A Book Is Put Yourself In Someone Else's Shoes. The Reader's Shoes. You've Got To Entertain Them.