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I'm afraid such questions are unanswerable because: 1) I haven't read Kay; and d) it is a profound truth that "there's no accounting for taste". We all like what we like, and don't like what we don't like; and there's precious little anyone can do about it. For me, the interlocking complexities of Erikson's story(s), the extreme sympathy of some of his characters and situations, and the fact that his work is not just another truckload of recycled elves and dwarves, give his work a unique power. But clearly what we might call his "appeal to the reader" is less, well, *personal* than mine. He doesn't ask you to open your heart the way I do. (04/09/2005)

I never intended this to be a big mystery; so I'm always a little nonplussed when people see the possibilities for a larger issue. From my perspective, the fact that Linden ends up with Covenant's ring *even though we never see her take possession of it in the real world* is just another example of the ways in which events in the real world and events in the Land tend to mirror each other. Think of it as "sympathetic magic," if you're comfortable with that concept. In the Land, Linden makes a very deliberate choice to go pick up Covenant's ring; so of course (by the logic of sympathetic magic--or simply by the logic of organic unity within the story) that same choice would be mirrored in the real world, even though in the real world Linden is at best only semi-conscious (perhaps in one of those stupefied states where afterward people can't remember what they did). I know this doesn't sound very satisfying. But it *is* what I had in mind when I wrote the story. (04/10/2005)

1. With specific exceptions, I avoid discussing other writers who are alive--or who, in the inimitable words of Robert Bloch, "were recently alive." (OK, that's an in-joke: Bloch was, among many other things, a master humorist, and those words were the punch-line of a joke far too complex to tell here.) I've already gone on at length about Tolkien. "Dune" I consider one of the great classics of the genre; and many of Herbert's other books were fascinating. Moorcock, with his many contributions to modern letters, certainly does not deserve to be compared to Lovecraft, who was--in both the best and the worst senses of the term--"sui generis." 2. I am not now, nor have I ever been, a Commu--oops, I mean a prequelist. Sorry: the books you desire just ain't gonna happen. 3. Well, think of the Middle Ages, often rightly called the Dark Ages, when a totalitarian religious organization contrived to stamp out progress almost entirely for nearly 1000 years. Compare that to the isolating effect of what the Masters have done to the Land. And think about India (if you can stand it): on that sub-continent, a civilization evolved which explicitly precluded the whole *concept* of progress (and all its implications) for well over 3000 years. In 3000 years that extremely complex civilization never got as far as interior plumbing: hell, it barely got as far as drains. In addition, I consider it quite plausible that a few thousand years of magic would make people almost genetically inclined to think in non-mechanistic terms--which would in turn diminish the likelihood of technological advancement. In short, I think the Land's history makes sense as it stands. (04/10/2005)

I'm completely unwilling to commit myself in regard to your second question. But as to your first: I've always assumed that this was a "single use per person" sort of power: it's always *there,* so in theory it can always be used; but it's *so* powerful that no un-god-like being could survive tapping into it more than once. And even that "once" leaves room for doubt: we don't know what the effects on Elena would have been if she hadn't gotten herself killed almost immediately by other means. (04/10/2005)

In a word, No. Now don't get me wrong: I grieve when a character like Saltheart meets his end. But I also feel a strong sense of satisfaction. Not because I killed him, of course, but because he found the outcome that he most needed for his personal story. I feel that I "played fair" with him--as I did with Elena and Bannor--that I gave him "dignity" (discussed earlier in this interview), and that therefore he has no cause to reproach his creator. Thus I'm vindicated to myself. In addition, keep in mind that I know the story before I tell it. I know what's going to happen, and why it needs to happen. That changes my emotional relationship with events considerably. (04/13/2005)

I never browse Kevin's Watch. In fact, I seldom visit; and when I do, it's always for a very specific reason. By nature, I'm not a web browser. And I avoid browsing Kevin's Watch in particular because I don't want my own thinking to be, well, tainted by my reactions (positive or negative) to what I might read there. Various possible reactions: 1) "Ha! pitiful mortal. You cannot begin to conceive my cleverness." 2) "Now that's just plain insulting." 3) "How did you guess?" Well, none of that could possibly be good for me. Positively or negatively, my ego would be affected--and I've tried to explain that I consider ego antithetical to creativity. For the same reason, I don't read reviews (unless they're forcibly thrust at me). I never check what people are saying about my books on Amazon. Doing what I do is already hard enough: I don't need to make it worse by getting myself entangled with glee, umbrage, or chagrin. (04/13/2005)

I'm bemused by such questions because they have so little congruence to the way I actually work (and think). I don't write books because someone else wants them written: writing is too hard for that. And I'm not in third grade, breaking toys because someone pissed me off. I write because--and only because--I believe in the absolute (if entirely personal) necessity of what I'm writing. I write particular stories, and I write them in particular ways, because doing so gives my life meaning. From my perspective, nothing about this process is gratuitous, excessive, or unnecessary. So: 1) NOTHING in "The Second Chronicles" was a reaction to pressure from my publisher, or to my own initial reluctance. 2) There was NEVER a point at which I reconsidered or diluted "the level of destruction." Rather the Sunbane seemed to me inevitable: it was Lord Foul's next logical gambit. Without it (and a whole host of other things), I had no story. (04/13/2005)

Findail is--you should pardon the expression--caught between a rock and a hard place. He does NOT want to driven to the extreme necessity of becoming part of a new Staff of Law. (Who would?) But if worst comes to worst, he doesn't want his sacrifice to be flawed--or possibly even wasted--by becoming part of a *damaged* Staff of Law. (Again, who would?) So, from his perspective, Vain's extermination would be fine ("Woo hoo, I'm free!"), but Vain's injury is not ("Oh, fu*k, I'm ruined, and it's all for nothing"). (04/13/2005)

Well, you caught me fair and square. <grin> Apart from English, Cliche is the only language I speak--and there seems to be some debate about my English. So naturally I milk Cliche for all it's worth. (04/16/2005)

I'm very flattered by your comments. Unfortunately, I don't have the legal right to give--or withhold--permission for you to produce even two more durable copies of any of my books. Those rights belong to my various publishers. And if you contacted them for permission, I suspect that you would receive no answer: they routinely ignore such personal requests. In addition, I'm confident that they would *not* supply you with digital files. The solution, of course, is to buy your own digital files for any books that are available on, say, ereader.com. Then you can (I assume: I've never tried it) do what you want with them. In any case, autographed bookplates are available through the "contact" page on this site. (04/16/2005)

Ultimately, this is unanswerable. I can no more account for how my imagination works than I can explain what makes communication possible. There are a few obvious--and not so obvious--facts. 1) I have four sisters. 2) I was raised by a woman who emphasized the feminine side of men--and the masculine side of women. 3) Simultaneously I was raised to believe that women are far more *admirable*, more worthy of attention, than men. 4) Ironically for a proto-feminist like myself, I was subjected to a few viciously anti-male attacks by radical feminists in my early 20's. 5) In order to write "Mordant's need," I was forced to come up with my own answer to Freud's famous (and, in my personal opinion, famously stupid) question, "What do women want?" For my own sake, as well as for Terisa Morgan's, I decided to believe that "what women want" is indistinguishable from "what men want," or from "what human beings want": dignity, respect, validation, acceptance, inter-connection, and--for lack of a better term--usefulness (in my lexicon, a complex concept which includes both "meaningful work" and "self-discovery"). All of which accounts for a certain empathy (not to mention vulnerability) on my part, but does nothing to explain how my imagination works. I'm afraid that's the best answer I can give you. (04/22/2005)

I've always suffered from the I'm-not-good-enough syndrome. (Which--and this is important--must be distinguished from the I'm-a-phoney syndrome. IAP occurs when there is some deep-seated unsuitability between the individual and a particular activity, regardless of whether or not the individual is *good* at that activity. You'll never find the answers you seek unless you can tell the difference between IAP and INGE.) In my case, the solution--which I'm forced to re-learn at regular intervals--is the inevitable corollary: neither is anyone else. Now, I hasten to add that I don't mean that to be as glib as it sounds. My actual point is that creativity is not a competition. I don't have to be as *good* as, or even comparable to, someone else, ANYone else. In fact, the opposite is true: my only real value lies in *not* being comparable to anyone else; in striving for excellence as defined entirely and solely by my own desires and abilities. Sure, I'll never be a good Tolkien--or a good Erikson--or a good McKillip. But none of them will ever be a good Donaldson. That's a job only *I* can do. Socrates (I believe) said, "To thine own self be true." G. K. Chesterton said, "Anything worth doing is worth doing badly." For me, the cure to the INGE syndrome goes like this: be honest with myself; give it my best shot; and refuse to be distracted by worrying about anything else. (Easier said than done, by the way.) Whether or not any of this is relevant to you, I can't say. In the end, we all have to look into the abyss for ourselves, and survive the experience on our own terms. (04/22/2005)

Gosh, I wish I were that clever. <grin> But no, it's just a coincidence. Rather like the spelling of Anele/Elena. I simply didn't notice the similarity in sound. (04/22/2005)

I appreciate your good opinion of "Mordant's Need." Those books are often neglected, perhaps because they have been *very* poorly supported by both my US (DEL REY/Ballatine) and UK (Voyager/HarperCollins) publishers. It's painfully easy for almost everyone to forget that I wrote them. (04/22/2005)

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get to your question. I'm now 240+ questions behind on the GI, and losing ground steadily. But I always feel flattered and gratified when people find inspiration for their own creativity in my work. I believe that even the most vicious of lawyers could not find fault with your "use" of my work. And I encourage you (belatedly, I know) to go ahead with your CD. I hope that my response in a public forum (this web site) instead of by private e-mail will suffice to reassure any qualms. However, I deleted your lyrics to protect your ownership of *your* work. (04/22/2005)

The Kent State University Libraries don't have the budget to put a specific person "in charge" of their Donaldson collection. Craig Simpson did some much-needed organizational work recently. Perhaps someday someone else will do more. Access to the collection is restricted in various ways. Certainly no one except yrs trly can "make contributions." And the materials aren't available to be removed from the library (e.g. through inter-library loan). But I believe that anyone who goes to the KSU Library in person and jumps through the usual hoops (forfeiture of off-spring, that sort of thing <grin>) can look at my actual manuscripts etc.. For whatever that's worth. The true first edition of "Lord Foul's Bane," my very first book, was published by the Science Fiction Book Club several months before the Holt, Rinehart & Winston hardcover of the same title. The "dark" cover purportedly features Thomas Covenant and Drool Rockworm--or Lord Foul, who can tell?--in a cave full of bats and bones. I think of it as my hydrocephalic child: desperately ugly, but I adore it anyway. However, when Holt came out with their edition (the rather crude "Kevin's Watch" cover), the SFBC changed their dustjacket to match. (04/27/2005)

I feel no more need to "justify" Wagner for being anti-Semitic (as he plainly was) than I do to justify Brahms for being fat (as he very plainly was). Their lives/convictions/actions don't concern me: their art does. In some sense, all creation comes from the soul of the creator. But great artists somehow always manage to transcend their own pettiness, their own ordinary-ness, even their own ugliness. When they create, they draw on their potential greatness of spirit rather than on their manifest littleness of word and deed. Considering your question from an opposite example: Sir Walter Scott was one of the most honorable men who ever walked the earth; but that has nothing to do with his art. If his books weren't worth reading for their own sake, they wouldn't be worth reading at all. People who reject Wagner's music because of his personal anti-Semitism, or who praise Scott's novels because of his personal integrity, are caught in a profound fallacy. Sadly, it's a very *human* fallacy. I do it myself. When I know from personal experience that one of my contemporaries is a perfect s*it, I shy away from his/her work because I hate being forced to acknowledge that even perfect s*its are capable of artistic integrity and greatness. Similarly I'm grieved when some truly fine human beings turn out to be lousy writers. But when the artist in question has the good sense to be dead <grin>, such concerns fall away. At least they do for me. Then I can love or loathe the work on its own terms. (04/27/2005)

Gosh, I do *so* love finding fault with my own work in public. <sigh> In the case you mention, I was referring to how I handled Linden Avery in the second half of the book. Certain sections of that material fall a bit flat because I simply didn't understand her well enough to describe or dramatize her as effectively as the story requires. From my perspective, her struggle to come to terms with Covenant's eventual intentions is not well delineated. A slight but persistent disfocus weakens the narrative whenever that struggle assumes center stage (for example--he said, wincing--during her encounter with Kevin's specter in Andelain). If I had it to do over again, I would tell that aspect of her personal story more clearly--or bust a gut trying. What else can I tell you? I can't afford to slit my wrists today: I don't have time. <rueful smile> (04/27/2005)

"Catenulation" (a real word) refers to the creation of something by uniting its parts end to end like the links of a chain. This sentence is an example of catenulation--although of course you can't reverse it as you could a chain <grin>. (04/27/2005)

Your questions have already been answered here. But your message gives me a chance to address a couple of other topics. 1) I don't have a "screener." My webmaster does wonderful work, but I'm solely responsible for everything that is--and isn't--in the GI. This explains in part why I'm now 250+ questions behind. <sigh> 2) And speaking of what isn't in the GI, some readers will have noticed that I do sometimes edit messages and questions before I answer them. Sometimes I'm just trying to save space. And sometimes the content of the messages/questions simply seems too, well, personal for a public forum like this one. Now, as to your actual questions.... The Science Fiction Book Club currently has single-volume editions of both "Covenant" trilogies. And information about the publication of the next books in "The Last Chronicles" will be posted in the "news" section of this site--when there *is* any information. At present, all I can tell you is that the first draft of "Fatal Revenant" is growing steadily. (04/28/2005)

I personally find the study of the martial arts enjoyable (sometimes highly so, especially when I'm sparring--or teaching), and *I* "have no inclination to violence or competition." But if all you're interested in is a physical hobby, I suggest that you consider one of "sport" forms of Tae Kwan Do. No true "martial art" is a "sport": they are all forms of self-defense intended to save your ass if you--or someone you care about--is attacked in real life. (Putting it crudely: sports have rules; martial arts don't.) And therein lies their profound value. EsPEcially for those of us who "have no inclination to violence or competition." Unless you're one of those people who JUST LOVE the idea of picking fights in bars, studying the martial arts is about facing your fears. And I doubt that there's a human being alive who couldn't profit by facing his/her fears. The logic is simple: the more of your fears you're able to face, the more freedom of choice you have. QED. And there's a valuable corollary: the more of your fears you're able to face, the more respect you'll have for yourself. I speak from experience. For more on the subject, you might want to download my essay "The Aging Student of the Martial Arts," which is available from this site. (04/28/2005)

I cut out most of your extremely flattering observations, not because I don't like praise--of course I do--but because (as I wrote a short time ago) I'm trying to save space. Certainly I'm proud of all the stories you mentioned. And "The Killing Stroke" is a personal fave. How do I decide on a POV? It varies. Sometimes POV is dictated by the nature of the story: the GAP books would be impossible as a first-person narrative. Sometimes POV is dictated by the nature of the relationship that I want the reader to have with the central character. (For example, in "The Chronicles" I want to maintain a certain distance between the reader and Covenant. Without that distance, one of two things would happen: a) the idea that Covenant might "turn to the dark side" would become entirely unconvincing; or b) Covenant's potential for darkness would make the story so unattractive that no one would read it. In contrast, in "Penance" I very much want my readers to identify as strongly as possible with Scriven.) And sometimes POV is inherent in the original idea. (For example, "Reave the Just," "The Kings of Tarshish," and "By Any Other Name" have one secret detail in common: they each grew from a single complete sentence which simply appeared in my head. In two of those cases, the original--in the sense of origin--sentence contained the word "I": the third clearly implied a third-person narrative.) You may have noticed, however, that I *never* use "third person omniscient": that's where the writer takes the reader inside the head of every character in every scene. As a technique, I find it jarring and disruptive at best, utterly implausible at worst. And for very different reasons I've never done a "present tense" narrative. Only a supreme master could make a technique with so many inherent disadvantages convincing. (04/28/2005)

Writing stories gives my life purpose; meaning; a sense of direction. This process is seldom (perhaps never) *fun*: it's simply essential. I do sometimes get "depressed" (sad, anxious, lonely, existentially troubled) when I'm writing. But I only experience true clinical depression when I *can't* write for some reason. For much of my life, writing has been what keeps me going. I've often said that I can survive pretty much anything as long as I have a story that demands telling. (04/28/2005)

As I've said before, I have different favorites at different times, and for different reasons. But "The One Tree" will always be special to me. For one thing, I think it's very well written. (Just my opinion, folks.) And for another, I showed myself with that book that I'm capable of true artistic integrity. My editor at the time, Lester del Rey, HATED "The One Tree" so intensely that he "fired" me as a writer. But even in the face of losing my publisher (and, I believed, my career), I remained faithful to my story and my characters. I'm proud of that. (04/28/2005)