I'm Not A Great Believer In Awards-of

Stories Set In The Culture In Which Things Went Wrong Tended To Start With Humans Losing Or Forgetting Or Deliberately Leaving Behind Their Terminal. It Was A Conventional Opening, The Equivalent Of Straying Off The Path In The Wild Woods In One Age, Or A Car Breaking Down At Night On A Lonely Road In Another.

Smell Is A Very Animal Thing, Almost Reptilian, Where The More Cerebral Things Like Reading Less So.

The Point Is, There Is No Feasible Excuse For What Are, For What We Have Made Of Ourselves. We Have Chosen To Put Profits Before People, Money Before Morality, Dividends Before Decency, Fanaticism Before Fairness, And Our Own Trivial Comforts Before The Unspeakable Agonies Of Others

All You Ever Were Was A Little Bit Of The Universe, Thinking To Itself. Very Specific; This Bit, Here, Right Now. All The Rest Was Fantasy.

Writing Is Like Everything Else: The More You Do It The Better You Get. Don't Try To Perfect As You Go Along, Just Get To The End Of The Damn Thing. Accept Imperfections. Get It Finished And Then You Can Go Back. If You Try To Polish Every Sentence There's A Chance You'll Never Get Past The First Chapter.