I Can't Remember A Time When I

A Terrific Sadness Swept Over Jerry. As If Somebody Had Died. The Way He Felt Standing In The Cemetry That Day They Buried His Mother. And Nothing You Could Do About It.

I Don't Think I Began To Be A Professional Writer Until I Learned My Weaknesses And What I Couldn't Do. This Forced Me To Compensate.

He Was Intrigued By The Power Of Words, Not The Literary Words That Filled The Books In The Library But The Sharp, Staccato Words That Went Into The Writing Of News Stories. Words That Went For The Jugular. Active Verbs That Danced And Raced On The Page.

Do I Dare Disturb The Universe? Yes, I Do, I Do. I Think. Jerry Suddenly Understood The Poster--the Solitary Man On The Beach Standing Upright And Alone And Unafraid, Poised At The Moment Of Making Himself Heard And Known In The World, The Universe.

I Simply Write With An Intelligent Reader In Mind. I Don't Think About How Old They Are.