Whenever I Finish A Book, I Start

Great Murderers, Like Great Men In Other Walks Of Activity, Have Blue Eyes.

Beneath The Stars The Lake Lay Dark And Sombre," Stead Wrote, "but On Its Shores Gleamed And Glowed In Golden Radiance The Ivory City, Beautiful As A Poet's Dream, Silent As A City Of The Dead.

I Started Reading The Big Histories And The Small Histories, The Memoirs And So Forth. At Some Point, I Found The Diary Of William E. Dodd.

To Me, Writing Is A Very Physical Process. I Lay Out The Entire Book With The Two Narratives Side By Side On My Bedroom Floor, And Just Get Down On My Hands And Knees And Start Looking At It In That Physical Space. "does This Really Follow From This? Should This Be Here Or Elsewhere?" I Will Literally Cut The Paper Into Paragraphs. I'll Cut It Into Segments And Move The Segments Around From One Narrative To The Other Until I Feel That I've Found The Natural Structure.

Dodd Continued To Hope That The Murders Would So Outrage The German Public That The Regime Would Fall, But As The Days Passed He Saw No Evidence Of Any Such Outpouring Of Anger.