My Father Told Me Once That The

There Was A Time When I Believed I Was The Redeemed One, The Boy Borne Safely Home On The Ebb Of Whatever Freak Tide Carried Peter And Jamie Away. Not Any More. In Ways Too Dark And Crucial To Be Called Metaphorical, I Never Left That Wood.

... I Stayed Because Running Seemed Too Strange And Too Complicated. All I Knew Was How To Fall Back, Find A Patch Of Solid Ground, And Then Dig My Heels In And Fight To Start Over.

The Thing About Being A Mystery Writer, What Marks A Mystery Writer Out From A Chick Lit Author Or Historical Fiction Writer, Is That You Always Find A Mystery In Every Situation.

One Of My Da's Tragedies Was Always The Fact That He Was Bright Enough To Understand Just How Comprehensively He Had Shat All Over His Life.

I've Got This Theory That Human Beings Are Innately Religious; We Have A Belief System. It Doesn't Have To Be A Theist Form, Necessarily. But We Need A Belief System, Some Framework On Which To Hang Our Behavior.