I'm sure you'll understand that much of what I might say on this subject is *way* too personal to discuss even with my close friends. But in the name of writers everywhere I feel constrained to state that in general writing is FAR less lucrative than, say, acting--or playing in a rock band. For every Stephen King, Tom Clancy, or John Grisham, there are 10,000 published writers who do not make enough money to quit their day jobs. Commonly quoted figures go like this: among published writers, only 10% are able to support themselves (and their families) by writing; of that 10%, only 10% live in actual comfort; and of *that* 10%, only 10% can be reasonably described as wealthy. With occasional wild exceptions (J. K. Rowling), the only road that leads to that last 1/10th of 1% goes through Hollywood: even enormously successful writers like King, Clancy, and Grisham would not be truly wealthy without a steady influx of movie money. Why? Consider this single fact: when a movie is an absolute commercial disaster, disappearing from the theaters the day after it opens, it is seen by more people than buy the biggest of the big bestsellers. (And that doesn't count rentals, tv broadcasts, and international audiences.) As a result, if a merely break-even movie inspires just 5% of its viewers to go out and buy the book, the author's income can easily be increased by one (or more) orders of magnitude. The hard truth is that we do not live in a culture that reads. Books are expensive to produce and difficult to sell; profit margins are small; the author's share is downright tiny. (05/04/2005)

Not to repeat too much of what I've already said: I named the Ravers after "states of enlightenment" because I suspect that evil commonly thinks of itself as good--indeed, as being *more* good than ordinary good. Iagos (characters that revel in what they perceive as evil) demonstrably exist in both fiction and life. But I imagine that most true "despisers" simply see themselves as being more important, more necessary, and even more *good* than everyone else. The Ravers--and Lord Foul--certainly think that way. (05/04/2005)

Yes, I'm frequently lambasted by readers--and especially by reviewers--for the operatic (not to mention arcane) diction of the "Covenant" books. Such readers dismiss out of hand the notion that I may have consciously chosen my style--and that my reasons for doing so may be intelligible. Instead they assume that I'm an elitist who strives for obscurity in order to make my readers feel stupid (i.e. in order to make myself feel smart). I disagree, of course. But that's just my opinion. (05/04/2005)

Of course, the whole "lietmotif" technique that became so prominent in the GAP books has been continued in "The Last Chronicles." I've been trashed for this: "All Donaldson ever does is repeat his own sentences." But I think of it as a form of weaving: picking up thematic, emotional, and psychological threads (as well as the occasional simple reminder) from the past of the story and bringing them into the present. A blatant attempt on my part to enrich the narrative tapestry. But another example is less prominent because, well, to put it crudely, the *punctuation* in the first six "Covenant" books is not what I wanted. For the first four books, Lester del Rey changed my punctuation to suit himself: for the following two, I accepted his template for the sake of consistency. As a result, the changes in the style of punctuation between the first "Covenant" books and the GAP sequence is not as obvious as it might otherwise have been; and therefore those elements of the GAP style which have been carried forward into "The Last Chronicles" are also not as obvious. Specifically I'm talking about my use of colons and semicolons; about the way that usage allows me to have more control over the *timing* of my sentences (the rhythm with which the reader apprehends the words) by enabling me to blend sentence fragments into complete sentences. When it's done right, this makes it possible for me combine short, staccato utterances within long-breathed (for lack of a better term) melodies. In other words, GAP-style punctuation enables me to give the operatic rhetoric of the "Covenant" books more *punch*. Occasionally, anyway. (05/10/2005)

Well, I do suffer from my own version of the Flaubert curse (his quest for "le mot juste"). Of course, my prose is not "tight" or "spare" in the way that Flaubert's was. But it is "dense" in the sense that I try to cram as much meaning into the sentences as I possibly can. You've pointed out a couple of my techniques for doing so. Phrases like "Oh God" are both direct expressions of emotion and ironic references to the (apparent) fact that the Land has been abandoned by its Creator. I intend a kind of alchemy. As I do with my (over)use of words like "puissance." Literally, of course, "puissance" denotes "great strength or force" (power) and connotes "mystical or magical strength or force". But the very strangeness of the word calls attention to its use (which explains the perception of overuse, even though the word is used *much* less often than, say, "power"); and that in turn enables me to emphasize the commensurate strangeness of the power itself--the way in which the power defies mundane expectations and rationality. Yes, the fact that I'm "sweating over each word" does in part explain why I write so slowly--and rewrite so often and so extensively. But the complexity of my intentions on a micro level (words, sentences, timing) mirrors the complexity of what I'm trying to do on a macro level (plot, theme, character). And macro issues slow me down at least as much as micro issues do. (And we won't even mention *age*, which definitely affects the rate at which my synapses fire. <grin>) (05/10/2005)

The problem of reconciling divergent "creation myths" has been discussed at some length earlier in this interview. I won't repeat myself, except to say that I don't actually see any conflict between the various stories we've been told (I mean in the "Covenant" books <grin>). As for your other questions: sorry, these are RAFO issues. I'm not prepared to say anything about my intentions for the forthcoming books. Innocent curiosity for you can be a cruel spoiler for someone else. (05/10/2005)

I'm sorry to keep saying this; but there's only one good way to learn how to write stories, and that is to figure it out for yourself. So my only pointers are: write what comes naturally; find honest readers who will tell you what they do and do not like about what you wrote; learn from what you hear; and avoid readers who try to tell you "how to improve" what you've written (figure that part out for yourself). (05/10/2005)

Whenever I receive "news" about my books (e.g. translation into Italian), I post the information promptly in the "news" section of this site. So if what you want to know isn't listed as "news," I don't have any answer for you. (05/10/2005)

You astonish me. I see absolutely no resemblence between myself and Thomas Covenant. For one thing, he exists only in words, whereas I appear to exist only in mirrors. <grin> (05/10/2005)

My sense of shame only lasted until I realized that the story wasn't done; that I still had four more books to write. That insight or inspiration transmogrified my feelings completely. Writing solely about my own potential "dark side" seemed (and seems) like a rather narcissistic thing to do. In contrast, using my own potential "dark side" as a, well, launchpad for something much larger, more universal, and (I hope) more important seemed (and seems) like a perfectly valid approach to storytelling. I hope I've made it clear in this interview that (for me, anyway) storytelling demands a certain impersonality. I need to *believe* that I'm writing about my characters rather than about myself (even though we all know that my characters--like my stories--come out of me and are therefore an expression of me): otherwise I can't work. Extending Angus, Nick, and Morn beyond the bounds of "The Real Story" gave me that necessary impersonality. I hope I have successfully avoided answering most of your questions. <grin> I mean, your questions being *personal* and all. (05/10/2005)

Well, life is all about destruction (death)--and about new things arising to replace the old. But as a rule, people tend to be more afraid of dying than they are of being born <grin>, so I think it's probably normal that fiction in general--and fantasy fiction in particular--revolves around destruction. (Tolkien wasn't exactly kind to Middle Earth, as you'll recall.) On a crudely practical level, if nothing is being lost, there's nothing to fight for. Most people are completely ruled by their fears (a fact which defines most fantasy realms). And if the consequences of destructiveness (for example, Lord Foul's) aren't severe, they aren't truly serious--or worthy of serious attention. OK, I admit I'm not being very coherent right now. But I'm not sure it would be good for any of us to "see the Land as it was"; to see any world--or any life--the way it was; to have the kind of childhood we all should have had and didn't. If we want to live, we all have to grow up; and growing up is all about loss. (Of course, it's also "all about" a bunch of other things too, like--just to pick one example--how is it that loss doesn't prevent life from being worth living?) Enough babbling. Bad author. No bisquit. (05/10/2005)

This gives me another opportunity to say that I'm always flattered and gratified when my work becomes an occasion for creativity for other people! That's high praise. Let me say, first, that you certainly have my blessing; second, that giving appropriate credit early and often is always a good idea; and third, that legal questions like "rights" and "permissions" only arise where there is *money*. If you and your friends are designing your MUD for your mutual enjoyment, and are making the game available to other players free of charge, you have nothing to worry about. Sadly, everything becomes much stickier once money changes hands, even if it only does so to cover the cost of maintaining your MUD on a server. So: keep it free and have fun. If you accept money, no blessing of mine will protect you if my publisher (the actual holder of the rights) decides to take action. (05/11/2005)

Apparently people are starting to doubt my word when I say that I'm going to live forever! We live in a sadly cynical age, and all trust is forgotten. <grin> But seriously: you raise a practical point that hasn't been covered earlier. And the answer is no, my contract does *not* require the completion of "The Last Chronicles" even if I make the mistake of being dead. I believe that no book contract includes that provision, presumably because it could not possibly be binding on whoever got the job of making sense out of my obscure and chaotic notes. (UNLESS *I* had previously contracted with some other writer to finish my story if I died. Then, if "some other writer" was acceptable to my publisher, my publisher would have contracted with both of us simultaneously, with the stipulation that "some other writer" would take over for me in the event of my tragic toothbrush accident.) The whole situation would be too messy for words, and no book contract addresses it. No, here's what would happen if I behaved rationally: in my will, I would name a "literary executor"; after my death, my LE would examine any materials that I may have left behind, and would consult both my privately (in person) and publicly (in my will) expressed wishes; then, if no insurmountable obstacle existed (such as my will forbidding anyone to continue my work), my LE would approach my publisher, and together they would decide a) if my story was worth completing under the circumstances, and b) who could be asked to do the work. So how likely is it that I'll behave rationally? Well, I *do* have a will, and it *does* name an LE. So far, so good. But I haven't yet gotten around to announcing that I DO NOT want my work completed by anyone else. Why? Because it's *my* work, that's why. If *I* didn't write it, it's just a pastiche, and I dislike pastiches. Of course, I may change my mind. Imagine me with a long lingering illness which allowed me plenty of time to consult with my anointed "successor." Who knows how I would feel under those conditions? For the present, however, I'm going to stick to my guns and just damn live forever. (05/11/2005)

Other readers (well, one, anyway) have commented on a comic element in the first "Covenant" trilogy. On a conscious level, all of the humor in those books was of the wry, ironic variety (heavily tinged with sarcasm in Covenant's case). Unconsciously, who knows? In a very real sense, "what you see is what you get." If you find humor, then it's there. Sadly, I did *not* intend "Lord Foul" to be a comic name--although I can easily see why it strikes you that way. I was young; and with the arrogance, ambition, naivete, or ignorance of the young, I chose to announce my archetypal vision loudly. "If you've got it, bump it with a trumpet." If I were starting "Lord Foul's Bane" today, I would approach my underlying subject-matter with less noise. Still, it would not be fair to say that I regret the name. It has become so deeply embedded in what I'm doing that it feels right and even normal to me now. (05/11/2005)

In a sense, "the past is [always] prologue." Who we were enables who we are. Doubtless I would not be writing "The Last Chronicles" *exactly* as I am if I had not first written the GAP books. And of course there is another sense as well in which both "The Real Story" and "The Runes of the Earth" are "prologues." More and more, I seem to need a big wind-up before I throw my first real pitch (although I prefer to think of it as "building a solid foundation"). For that matter, "Forbidden Knowledge" is also a bit of a "prologue": one could argue that I don't throw my first real pitch in the GAP books until the last page of "Forbidden Knowledge". But I'll ask you to keep in mind that I can only move forward in time, not backward--and I don't have a crystal ball. I wrote "The Real Story" and the rest of the GAP books for their own sake, not in preparation for anything. I've talked about needing to become a better writer before I tackled "The Last Chronicles," but this was not a "planned" or "explicit" process: I simply pushed myself to accept every challenge that my imagination offered. In retrospect, it's easy to see patterns; development; preparation. But I don't live retrospectively, and I certainly don't write that way. So you could say that "The Last Chronicles" have a great deal to do with the GAP books, but that the GAP books have nothing whatever to do with "The Last Chronicles." Anyone who steps back from my work and looks at all of it in sequence can probably see that it contains a growing element of "machination," manipulation, plotting, concealed intentions. After writing the first "Covenant" trilogy, I wrote my first mystery novel--and Lord Foul's "designs" became far more subtle and multivalent in "The Second Chronicles". After "The Second Chronicles," I wrote my second mystery novel--and "Mordant's Need" is all about political intrigue. After my third mystery novel, I wrote the GAP books--and then my fourth mystery. In some sense, *all* of this was preparation for "The Last Chronicles." All of everything that we've ever done is preparation for what we do now. But that doesn't mean we saw it coming. (05/11/2005)

I'm afraid I can't answer your first question--unless you'll simply accept the notion that I have a disturbed personality. As to your second: Experience (training; dedicated, deliberate attention) makes virutally every human endeavor "easier" than it once was. It seems natural to me that the more Linden uses the internal pathways which lead to wild magic, the more readily she'll be able to find her way. And this seems especially true with wild magic, where un-self-conflicted passion and will are crucial. Linden, as you must have noticed, does not doubt herself on the scale that Covenant did in the first trilogy; and her personal commitments and choices (I mean in "Runes") are far more clear to her than his were to him (at least in the first trilogy). However, this whole situation is not as simple as I'm making it sound. There may (or may not) be an absolute limit to the amount of use that Linden can get out of Covenant's ring. Such issues will be explored more explicitly later in the story. (05/12/2005)

You're right, of course: there *is* more dialogue in "Runes" than in the previous "Covenant" books. And there have been "cosmetic" changes in the style on every level. The rationale for the way certain words are consistently italicized is that they are "foreign" words (foreign, that is, to the "native tongue" of the narrative, the Land's inhabitants, etc.). This is common usage (consult any familiar "style manual" of English grammer, punctuation, and so on)--although it hardly *appears* common because the inherent xenophobia of US culture prevents most writers from drawing on foreign languages. I can get away with it in a fantasy novel because fantasy readers *expect*--and even desire--the existence of other cultures. (05/12/2005)

Sorry, I don't own any Legos myself--and wouldn't have the patience to work with them if I did <grin>. Apart from "The Atlas of the Land" (long out of print), I have no "existing artwork, maps, or anything" that haven't already been published in the various "Covenant" books--although I intend to prepare a new map for "Fatal Revenant." (05/12/2005)

It's true: every minute that I spend working on the GI is a minute that I do *not* spend working on "The Last Chronicles." And of course I think we can all agree that "The Last Chronicles" should take precedence. So it does. I only answer questions here at times when I could not have worked on (in this case) "Fatal Revenant" anyway. For example, in motel rooms when I'm traveling. Or, at this precise moment, when I'm taking care of a sick friend who happens to be asleep for an hour or two. This in large part explains why I'm consistently at least 200+ questions behind in the GI. (05/12/2005)

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I've discusssed how I "come up with" names at some length earlier in this interview. However, one point bears constant repetition: the only good way to learn how to do it is to figure it out for yourself. And that includes figuring out how to cope with your self-consciousness. The awkward truth is that there are some subjects on which the wise teacher tells the student *nothing*. Fortunately I had one of those teachers at a crucial point in my creative (not physical) adolescence. Da*n near made me crazy, he did--but he saved me as a writer in the process. (05/12/2005)

Forgive me if this sounds glib, but: 4500+ years pass between the time when the Unhomed get stranded in Seareach and the time when Starfare's Gem reaches Coercri. Is it possible that the Giants, who always loved stone anyway, simply developed a new way to build ships? They certainly had enough time. (05/12/2005)

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That typo survived through several proof-reading stages in both the US and the UK--but it *was* corrected before publication. It's amazing how the human eye can see what it *expects* to see rather than what *is*. Both modern physics and modern psychology have much to say about this. (05/12/2005)

<sigh> Why do *people* swear so much? We live in profane times. I'm more than a tad profane myself. What other answer could I possibly give you? Oh, here's one: it's a reaction against her excessively religious (not to mention excessively destructive) up-bringing. But I'm afraid I just made that up on the spur of the moment. (05/12/2005)

I don't mean to put you off; but all of the advice that I could possibly give you is already in this interview. Well hidden, probably. <sigh> But start with the "creative process" and "writing and publishing process" categories. (05/13/2005)

I haven't been able to locate audio versions of any of my books except "The Runes of the Earth." I had heard a rumor that the first "Covenant" books were available from Books On Tape, but that appears not to be true. Can any readers of this interview offer Mr Castano suggestions? The only idea I've heard is to get a e-version of the books (the first six "Covenant" books still seem to be available free on the web somewhere, but I've lost the URL) and print it out or display it in a 26 or 30 point font: in other words, make it large enough so that you can still see it. But that may not work here. Help? Anyone? If you have suggestions, please address them to Mr Castano at the e-address above. (05/21/2005)

I've addressed this answering other questions. I never--and I do mean never--start with background. I start with story, then I work on story, then I work on story some more. (I'm using the word "story" to refer to the intersection of "plot" and "character/emotion".) And somewhere during that process I start to ask myself what sort of background the story needs in order to function. Within the normal limits of human variability, I only create as much background as I need. (Of course, one of the keys of successful world-building is to create the illusion that the entire world already exists. You can do this by, in effect, envisioning the entire world. But I prefer to do much of it by enlisting the aid of the reader's imagination. Wherever possible, I don't create actual background: I plant seeds which grow into background in the reader's mind.) So: I *never* "stop the background and start the story." Far more often, I start the story, then realize that I need more background than I have; so I stop long enough to create a little bit of that background (and to think about the implications of that background), after which I get back to the story. Where background is concerned, my methods are almost the exact opposite of Tolkien's. (05/22/2005)

Everyone seems to want to know about the missing Word. And a fair number of people want to know about the missing Wards of Kevin's Lore. I have several answers, but I'll limit myself to two: 1) I'm keeping my options open. I only create as much background as I need, which leaves me free to explore new ideas as I need them. So you'll only know what my plans are--if indeed I have any plans--by reading what I write. 2) Referring to missing information is one of the "tricks" of world-building. I've called it "planting seeds," "enlisting the aid of the reader's imagination." It's a technique for creating the illusion that the world is bigger than the story--or the actual text--can contain. To the best of my (admittedly limited) knowledge, even Tolkien--a dedicated background creator if ever there was one--used this "trick" from time to time. Worlds simply don't seem real if they don't contain unanswered questions. (05/22/2005)

I want to emphasize that you can think about what you read in any way that works for you. The way that *I* think about what I've written is "right" only in the sense that it works for me. So you shouldn't pay too much attention to the fact that I disagree with you. Two points. 1) From my perspective, being trapped within the Arch of Time means, well, being trapped within the Arch of Time. Whatever perceptions of infinity Lord Foul may once have possessed (since he was originally a being whose existence transcended time), they were severely truncated when he was forced to live in "real" space/time. And as a being forced to live in "real" space/time, he has no supernatural "vision of events"--and no particular blank spots in his vision (except those that are inherent to the way he thinks). He is defeated, not because he can't see past "choices that impact him directly," but because he believes that people like Covenant and Linden will not make those choices. Which brings me to-- 2) I certainly never intended to suggest that Lord Foul "planned" the rape of Lena, Lena's pregnancy, Trell and Atiaran's effective abandonment of Elena, or Elena's resulting mental instability. Of course, Lord Foul does what he can to manipulate events. Sending armies to attack the Lords probably counts as an attempt to manipulate events. But (and this is especially true in the first trilogy) he doesn't do so on the "micro" level. He doesn't--indeed, he can't--"make" Covenant rape Lena. On that level, his plans depend on Covenant's character rather than on the micro-manipulation of events. He chose Covenant because he believes that Covenant--by his very nature--will become a Despiser himself. And just in case there's a chance that Covenant might fall on the other side of the fence, Lord Foul exerts as much pressure as he can (macro-manipulation of events: armies, the genocide of the Unhomed, the maiming of the Bloodguard, changing the weather, etc.) to break down Covenant's resistence; to punish and (ideally) destroy the part of Covenant's nature that might not actually *want* to be a Despiser. My point here is that Lord Foul's plans depend, not on his (in)ability to control such details as the rape of Lena, but rather on his perception of Covenant's true nature. As I see it, therefore, Lord Foul had no idea that Covenant's first significant action in the Land would lead to the breaking of the Law of Death. He simply worked very hard to encourage something like that--and to take advantage of any signs of weakness in Covenant (of which there are many). In "The Second Chronicles," of course, Lord Foul's plotting becomes far more detailed (e.g. Marid's venom, and everything Lord Foul does to exacerbate that problem for Covenant). He's learned from his previous mistakes. But my central point remains: Lord Foul's plotting still revolves around his perception of character (Linden's as well as Covenant's in this case), not around his ability to foresee and manipulate events on a micro level. (05/23/2005)

I never comment on reviews. And I seldom so much as glance at them. I believe I've explained why earlier in the GI. But briefly: Reviews are written for the benefit of potential readers, not for the benefit of the author. For the author, therefore, they are inherently misleading--and even potentially damaging. Such "misappropriation of communication" cannot end well, and I avoid it as diligently as I can. (05/25/2005)

I'm sorry, I can't answer your primary question. I simply don't think of my characters in those terms. I wouldn't be able to create them at all if I viewed them so judgmentally. My intent in creating Thomas Covenant was to explore a character who--in every sense that matters--literally "could go either way." A character balanced (by necessity) on the knife-edge of love and Despite. I don't consider him either "amoral" or an "anti-hero": I consider him *conflicted*. His rape of Lena--like his later repentance--and his eventual acceptance of responsbility--is an expression of that conflict. (05/25/2005)

There is an (admittedly sparse) "appearances" page on this site. When "Fatal Revenant" is published--and *if* my publisher(s) decide(s) to send me out on tour(s)--the information will be posted there as soon as it becomes available to me. (I say again, as I've said before, that authors don't make these decisions: publishers do.) In the (admittedly lengthy) meantime, the "news" page on this site will supply the earliest possible information about the publication of "Fatal Revenant." (05/25/2005)

As I think I’ve said before in various ways, I’m a very “experential” writer: in other words, I try to experience the story, both sequentially and emotionally, as if I were indeed inside the head(s) of my protagonist(s) or POV character(s). In addition, I place a high value on studying my characters empathetically and non-judgmentally as well as (as is inevitable) analytically. So I can hardly help becoming “emotionally engaged” with them. Nevertheless my emotional experience of my stories pretty much *has* to be significantly different than the experience of my readers. For one thing, I *do* know what’s going to happen--and I also know *why* it’s going to happen. That has an unavoidable effect on the form my emotional engagement takes. And for another: the rate at which events and emotions are experienced affects the nature of their impact. As a reader, you move far faster than I do as a writer. (I’m a very slow reader, and even *I* move far faster than I do as a writer.) And speed profoundly affects perception. As I’m fond of pointing out: when you stroll casually past a tree, you see a very different tree than you would if you drove past it at 75 mph, even though the tree itself hasn’t changed at all. Well, my writing is the effective equivalent of a stroll (although there’s nothing casual about it), while for most people reading is the equivalent of 75 mph. This alters the tree’s distinctive reality in many ways. The experience isn’t better or worse, it’s just fundamentally different. Which brings me to your comments about style. Editors nowadays are pretty much compelled to read at hyper-speed (knocking off a book like “Runes” over the course of an otherwise-full weekend would be considered fairly normal); and at hyper-speed it is simply impossible to care--or to understand why anyone else would care--that the 47th twig from the left on the back side of the 18th eastward branch is bent downward instead of upward. And in fact many writers--knowing that both editors and readers are moving fast--only concern themselves with those aspects of the tree which can be perceived at high speed. Hence the inevitable, well, friction between such editors/readers and a writer such as I am, who believes that every single leaf of his tree deserves his best attention; and that readers who bother to slow down while they’re passing the tree should be rewarded for doing so. Well, I cannot be otherwise than I am. But I do also believe that readers who *don’t* slow down deserve attention and respect as well; so I accommodate the requests of my editors whenever and wherever I can do so without violating the integrity of my story--and of my story’s necessary style. Do I believe “that authors have a wider responsibility to preserve and promote the best use of language in literature”? Please. How could I possibly be wise enough to know what constitutes “the best use of language in literature”? And, indeed, how can there possibly *be* a “best use of language in literature”? Surely the “best use” is the use which most perfectly suits the particular story under discussion. Talk about a different story, and the whole concept of “best use” must change. (05/29/2005)

I’m sorry, I don’t understand your question. Clearly Kevin *does* act when the Law of Death has been broken. But perhaps the confusion is one of direction (which I tried to explain earlier in the GI); of moving from death toward life instead from life toward death. It might help if you think of Covenant’s final place within the Arch of Time as a form of “remaining alive”: after all, (in an admittedly specialized sense) nothing is more alive than Time, since without Time there is no life. The breaking of the Law of Life permits Covenant to “act” like a living being even though he’s just been killed. Or not. I have the impression that all of my answers on this subject cause more confusion than they relieve. (05/29/2005)

a) The issue of “profanity” keeps coming up, sometimes with considerably more vehemence. Let me say three things. 1) I’m probably the wrong person to discuss this with, not because I’m the author, but because I don’t believe that such a thing as a “bad” word exists. Certainly I understand the difference between “sacred” and “profane.” And in a general way I grasp that a distinction can be made between “obscenity” and, well, not-obscenity. But to me they’re all just words, all equally valuable--or valueless--depending on whether or not they express what they are intended to express. 2) It is possible that I’ve been affected more than I realize by writing mystery novels. In those novels, “profanity” and “obscenity” play a prominent (and realistic) role in the dialogue of many of the characters. Perhaps I’ve become more accustomed to writing such dialogue? 3) It really isn’t germane to compare whatever dialogue Barton Lytton has in the first and second trilogies with his dialogue in “The Runes of the Earth.” He isn’t a “real” character in the first six books: he’s a stock figure dragged on stage to perform a specific function and then summarily abandoned. (The same can be said of Megan Roman.) But, in keeping with my growing commitment to what I call the “dignity” of my characters, I wanted Lytton to be more “real” in “Runes,” and so I had to pay more attention to who he is, how he thinks, what he cares about, why he does what he does--and how he expresses himself. His dialogue in “Runes” seems to me to be a natural manifestation of his nature. And I would say the same about Roger Covenant. b) The Is-the-Land-real? issue is a vanishing theme for every character who experiences it. Between the first three books and the second, Covenant ceases to care about the question: he has already made his personal commitment to the Land, and is no longer concerned about whether or not the Land can be *proven* to exist anywhere outside his own head. And the same thing happens to Linden between the second three books and the last four: the issue no longer matters to her. The things that are at stake for her far transcend such questions. And I’m confident that any parent who wants to save a threatened child would feel the same way. (05/29/2005)

There is absolutely nothing wrong with your interpretation. It simply wasn’t what I had in mind when I wrote the first “Covenant” trilogy. On the other hand, hazardous waste and toxic dumping were very much what I had in mind when I visualized the Sunbane for the second trilogy. (05/29/2005)

It won’t surprise you to hear that this falls under the heading of RAFO. <grin> But we all have to ask ourselves: how many broken “Laws” does it take to make the entire system collapse? (05/29/2005)

Well, putting it as crudely as possible: the Staff has to be made out of wood, and Vain isn’t. Neither is Findail. They have to get wood from SOMEwhere. Think of it as a kind of “seed crystal” (I hope I’m using this term correctly). You have a vial of liquid that obviously isn’t doing anything; you toss in a seed crystal; and instantly the liquid is transformed into something else. “Vain’s deformation at the One Tree” is a necessary catalyst without which the eventual transformation simply could not occur. (05/29/2005)

I’ve answered this before; but I shouldn’t complain. I’m the world’s worst when it comes to using “filters,” “text searches”, etc.. And the GI is now *very* long. Naturally the process has become increasing cyclical. My point was that the Ravers name themselves for states of enlightenment because evil typically thinks of itself as “better,” “purer,” “higher,” “more important,” or “more necessary” than the more ordinary beings around it. For every Iago in literature (or in life), who revels in evil for its own sake, there are thousands of Richard M. Nixons: men and women who believe that neither law nor morality applies to them because they transcend the strictures which should (indeed, must) control lesser mortals. For profound narcissists like RMN and GWB, as for Herem, Sheol, and Jehannum, the highest possible moral good is defined as “What I Want.” (05/29/2005)

Like every other human being I’ve ever met, I experience variations of all kinds. For convenience let’s call them “bio-rhythms.” Some days I’m just plain *smarter* than other days. Some days I’m more facile (which isn’t the same thing is being smarter). Naturally my productivity and my effectiveness both vary. Speaking very broadly, however, I do tend to “speed up” as I get deeper and deeper into a particular book. If I were keeping score (which I do not), I could probably demonstrate that the second half of each book gets written in less time than the first half. (05/29/2005)