We Are Creatures Of Story.

I Enjoy Research; In Fact Research Is So Engaging That It Would Be Easy To Go On For Years, And Never Write The Novel At All.

If The Garden Of Eden Really Exists It Does So Moment By Moment, Fragmented And Tough, Cropping Up Like A Fan Of Buddleia High Up In The Gutter Of A Deserted Warehouse, Or In A Heap Of Frozen Cabbages Becoming Luminous In The Reflected Light Of Roadside Snow.

The Poets Whom I Knew Then Were All Men And All Seemed Dauntingly Sure Of Themselves - Although I Am Sure That Really They Were As Uncertain As I Was.

However, I Began To Submit Poems To British Magazines, And Some Were Accepted. It Was A Great Moment To See My First Poems Published. It Felt Like Entering A Tradition.

Poets Go Through A Very Tough Apprenticeship In The Use Of Words.