Stories are the wildest things of all. Stories chase and bite and hunt.

Writing is a pleasure but family is a blessing!

Wanderess, Wanderess, weave us a story of seduction and ruse. Heroic be the Wanderess, the world be her muse.’…I jot this phrase of invocation in my old leather-bound notebook on a bright, cold morning at...

Have you ever believed in something so completely that you were willing to give up everything and everyone in your life to protect it?

In writing the short novel Fahrenheit 451 I thought I was describing a world that might evolve in four or five decades. But only a few weeks ago, in Beverly Hills one night, a husband...

There are myriad kisses in a relationship: desperate ones as involuntary as breathing, stolen ones on crowded trains, ceremonial ones at the front door, routine ones as dispassionate as licking an envelope. It takes two...

It goes a long way back, some twenty years. All my life I had been looking for something, and everywhere I turned someone tried to tell me what it was. I accepted their answers too,...

Now she has power and passion and the struggle has significance for me-let the momentary consequences be what they may. Suppose that in her pride she becomes giddy, suppose that she does break with me-all...

Any fact becomes important when it’s connected to another.

He plunged into the foliage, and was swept into a humid, wet world of towering trees, animal chirps and thick ferns. After a few steps, he turned, and could barely make out the village. He...

When I write fiction, I struggle to decide the fate of two people created by my mind and spend countless hours to give them a happy ending. God, the Almighty has created infinite human beings...

That’s what fiction is for. It’s for getting at the truth when the truth isn’t sufficient for the truth.

To be inspired is great, but to inspire is an honor.

He was tender with her. He wiped her eyelids with his handkerchief, not noticing how soiled it was. It was stained with ink, crumpled, stuck together. Her lids were large and tender and the handkerchief...

Believe in the magic

Rogerson,” I asked him sweetly as we sat watching a video in the pool house, “where would I find the pelagic zone?””In the open sea,” he said. “Now shut up and eat your Junior Mints.

When he spoke of love, it was in the manner of someone who can recite a phrase in a foreign language but has no idea what it means. He only knows that it sounds pretty.

They ordered punch. They drank it. It was hot rum punch. The pen falters when it attempts to treat of the excellence thereof; the sober vocabulary, the sparse epithet of this narrative, are inadequate to...

Did time move forward, through people, or did people move through it, like clouds across the sky?

Demons exist,’ he says simply, as if talking about the weather. ‘They are real and they are dangerous. We hunt them when necessary and return them when we can.

I don’t know who he was,” Kavita flat-out states, “but whoever he was he sure did a number on you, didn’t he?”Mary leans forward to ensure he would see her deviant stare. “Did it ever...

Although this man spoke pure fluent ghetto, she liked his spirit. She could tell he was attracted to her, and that he was being ever careful with his words.

Fears can be a healthy thing, they give you something to conquer

(F)iction is…what ought to have been, not what actually was. At least, not exactly.

He wasn’t, I realized when I read those scenes concerning Blair and myself, close to any of us– except of course to Blair, and really not even to her. He was simply someone who floated...

The greatest enemy is one that has nothing to lose.

Live life to the fullest and never forget the people that supported you along the way.

She had traveled to more cities, had experienced more scenes, than anyone she knew, and still she had come away from it all with only an abysmal sense of dissatisfaction. When would it all begin,...

In ActualHuman Rights are”caring” for Humans left on the planet

We insist that this stuff we call science fiction is not SCI-FI. For some in the ghetto of Genre this is axiomatic, a secret truth known only to the genre kids, that there is proper...

Right from the very beginning, I knew I wanted to write palpably Scottish fiction.

Sometimes You Gotta Break the Rules”? How can an Image-Fiction writer hope to make people more critical of televisual culture by parodying television as a self-serving commercial enterprise when Pepsi and Subaru and FedEx parodies...

He is a free man, not because is in a poition of political power and influence that you will never be able to achieve, and not because he has more character and heart in his...

You shouldn’t be in here!

I am glad you are happy–but I never believe much in happiness. I never believe in misery either. Those are things you see on the stage or the screen or the printed page, they never...

Let Your Inhibitions Run Free

Ironically, [living in] communities of the like – minded is one of the greatest dangers of today ́s globalized world. And it ́s happening everywhere, among liberals and conservatives, agnostics and believers, the rich and...

What we often take to be the new is simply the old under some novel form.

I have closed my study door on the world and shut myself away with people of my imagination. For nearly sixty years I have eavesdropped with impunity on the lives of people who do not...

A scent. Your mother’s shampoo.

Every minute I decide not to kill you is a minute your life is saved. You owe me everything.

This, however, is.”He grabbed William by the wrist, swung the man around and around before at last releasing him and hurling his body directly onto the bridge.

He had panicked. Tessier cursed his own stupidity. He should have remained in the column where he would have been protected. Instead, he saw an enemy coming for him like a revenant rising from a...

When extremists come together extreme things happen.

My life is kinda like a story that if I told you about it, you probably wouldn’t believe. It would seem like fiction. That’s me.

Lucretia Jane Price. A sweet name for a sweet lady that smelled of roses, spoke with a sweet drawl, and was surely made of all the sweet country things a man who hadn’t eaten a...

I feel like these characters, these places, these beings and plots, and even these inanimate objects are counting on me for survival. It’s my responsibility to reveal them to the world, to show my readers...

And yet it was also true that the tumor could not be removed by our doctor, and as a result of that a strange medication had been given him that enabled my brother to become...

Fiction is experimentation; when it ceases to be that, it ceases to be fiction.

The Wheel of Time spins: there is beginning and there is end. But why does the Wheel of Time spin? Is it some divine force that propels it? Or is that force humanity, people in...