Anyway, this pair of ladies, they look like the rough end of flattened shit. - Caitlín R. Kiernan

To paraphrase Truman Capote, finishing a novel is like taking a child out behind the house and shooting it. To which I would hasten to add, that makes critics a bit like stranger who come along later to piss on the corpse.

It is not the task of the writer to “tell all,” or even to decide what to leave in, but to decide what to leave out.

I am usually at my most brutally forthright when making shit up. That's the paradox of me.