At The Center Of Everything We Call

Flies Die In So Many Lonely Places. -roberta Rohbeson

I've Gotten A Lot Of Livid Letters About The Awfulness Of My Work. I've Never Known What To Make Of It. Why Do People Bother To Write If They Hate What I Do?

I Grew Up In A House That Had A Whole Lot Of Trouble. As Much Trouble As You Could Imagine.

When I Work On A Book, I Usually Start With A Question. And I Don't Sit Around And Go "i Need To Write A Book. What's A Good Question?" It Will Be A Question That's Just Clanging Around In My Head.

The Thing I Call ‘my Mind’ Seems To Be Kind Of Like A Landlord That Doesn’t Really Know Its Tenants.