I Don't Think Of Myself As A

I'm Pretty Sure That If You Looked Up The Word "nuts" In The Dictionary, You'll Find My Picture. Just Another Fun Feature Of My Mutant-birdkid-freak Package.

Advanced Life-forms, My Seweet Patootie. Jerks. Both Of Them.

What Are You Doing In There, Waxing Your Mustache?” Iggy Yelled, Pounding On The Bathroom Door. I Yanked The Door Open And Pushed Him Backward Hard, Making Him Stagger. “i Don’t Have A Mustache, You Idiot!” Iggy Giggled And Put His Arms Up To Protect Himself In Case I Punched Him. “and You Know What?” I Added. “you Don’t Have One Either. Well, Maybe In A Couple Years. You Can Always Hope.” I Left Him In The Hallway, Anxiously Fingering His Upper Lip.

If You're Ever Feeling A Lack Of Middle-aged White Men, Just Pop Into The Capitol. Not So Much The House Of Representatives, Which Has A Bit More Color And Texture, But The Senate -- Jeez. Yes, Let's Have More Testosterone Running The Country. Maximum Ride, School's Out--forever

In My Office In Florida I Have, I Think, 30 Manuscript Piles Around The Room. Some Are Screenplays Or Comic Books Or Graphic Novels. Some Are Almost Done. Some I'm Rewriting. If I'm Working With A Co-writer, They'll Usually Write The First Draft. And Then I Write Subsequent Drafts.