Verbs. All Of Them Tiring.

I Was 46 When 'cold Mountain' Came Out. I Was Settled. We Had A Nice House In Raleigh And A Horse Farm.

While Writing Cold Mountain, I Held Maps Of Two Geographies, Two Worlds, In My Mind As I Wrote. One Was An Early Map Of North Carolina. Overlaying It, Though, Was An Imagined Map Of The Landscape Jack Travels In The Southern Appalachian Folktales. He's Much The Same Jack Who Climbs The Beanstalk, Vulnerable And Clever And Opportunistic.

Well, I'm A Slow Writer. For Me, A Good Day Is A Page, Maybe A Page And A Half. I'd Love To Be More Efficient, But I Am Not.

He Was Himself A Case In Point, And Perhaps Not A Rare One, For His Spirit, It Seemed, Had Been Burned Out Of Him But He Was Yet Walking.

What I'm Certain I Don't Want Is To Find Myself Someday In A New Century, An Old Bitter Woman Looking Back, Wishing That Right Now I'd Had More Nerve.