Short On Money, Long On Hope

After Memory Keepers Daughter, It Took Me A Few Months To Shut Out The World. I Really Had To Turn Off The Internet And Sort Of Cloister Myself Away From The World Again And Sink Into That Psychic Space To Write Again.

...and The Distance Between Them, Millimeters Only, The Space Of A Breath, Opened Up And Deepened, Became A Cavern At Whose Edge He Stood.

Writing Is Always A Process Of Discovery—i Never Know The End, Or Even The Events On The Next Page, Until They Happen. There’s A Constant Interplay Between The Imagining And Shaping Of The Story.

The Lake Of Dreams Grew Gradually, Over Many Years, Elements And Ideas Accruing Until They Gained Enough Critical Mass To Become A Novel.

She Had Died At Age Twelve, And By Now She Was Nothing But The Memory Of Love-- Nothing, Now, But Bones.