OK, now you're just being silly. (09/03/2006)

Thank you! Now that you've refreshed my memory: yes, "Waverley" is exactly where I got "Bodach Glas". Since I had no reason to believe that I would ever be published, I was just having fun with literary in-jokes. (09/03/2006)

I'm sorry: I don't understand your questions. You appear to use the word "forms" where I would use the word "themes". When I think "forms" I think "sonnet," "character sketch," "picaresque novel," etc.. As for themes, well, I don't choose my themes (surely I don't need to repeat that I'm not a polemicist?), they choose me. And even a casual glance at my work shows that the same themes appear over and over again: e.g. the (often inadvertent) struggle for personal integrity; or the power of small individuals to change the course of large events. But then, I don't choose my forms either: they are dictated by the stories they contain. (09/03/2006)

I don't buy second-hand books myself. Since I'm dependent on the financial support of my readers, I make a point of giving other writers the same support. But I don't *disapprove* of second-hand books. They promote reading, sometimes for people who couldn't afford to read without them. (From a purely ego-based perspective, however: the thing I don't like about second-hand books is not that people buy them, but rather that people *sell* them. <rueful smile> "What, you don't want to *keep* my book? Woe is me! Also weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth!") I've never discussed the subject with a publisher (or an editor). But I imagine that their attitude is similar to mine. Since they can't *stop* the sale of second-hand books, they might as well be philosophical about it--or at least not think about it. (09/04/2006)

I don't have any reliable information. (I do get "royalty statements" from my publishers twice a year, but I stopped straining my brain to decipher them long ago.) However, I've been given the general impression that "Runes" sold between 60,000 and 70,000 copies in hardcover--in both the US and the UK. This is a considerably more impressive number in the UK than it is in the US, since the population of the UK is so much smaller. (09/04/2006)

Your computation rests on a false assumption: that I answer questions in order. The truth is that I use the "spray and pray" method. <grin> Currently I'm about 70 questions behind. (09/04/2006)

Sorry. I've had occasion to say before that I'm no linguist (witness my D's in college German). There's nothing Tolkien-esque hidden beneath the surface; no coherent background to the "foreign" words and names in the "Covenant" books. Within racial groups (the Ramen, the Giants, etc.), I do try to be consistent. Hence, for example, a number of the Ramen names draw on Marathi (a derivative of Hindi). But that's only because I want the names to sound consistent: I don't actually *speak* Marathi, despite my childhood exposure. Mainly I just "steal" whatever sounds right (especially when the right sound also happens to have a useful meaning). E.g. in Marathi "Pahni" means "water". (09/06/2006)

Earlier in my career, I might have said that children represent "vulnerability" rather than "innocence". I think I've made it obvious that I consider "innocence" itself to be a flawed concept. Or perhaps I should say that the word itself doesn't seem very useful, since I find it difficult to come up with a workable definition that doesn't involve some form of willful ignorance. (In any case, Freud smashed the idea that children are "innocent" pretty thoroughly.) But now I *have* children, so I'm keenly aware of the primal power that can exist in the bond between a parent and a child; and the word "vulnerability" has a whole new meaning. 20 years ago, I would have had to *imagine* Linden's feelings for Jeremiah: now I know them intimately. None of which actually answers your question. So to further not answer your question: calling Lena and Davies "children" may be stretching the definition a bit. Of course literally they *are* the children of their parents; but they aren't "children" in the same sense that Jeremiah is (helplessly dependent). Davies is "born" capable of independent decisions and actions; and Lena could have saved herself from Covenant if she had chosen to do so. Thematically Lena, Davies, and Jeremiah don't have much in common. Jeremiah has more in common with the children in TMWKHB and THWRHP. (09/06/2006)

Yes, it's intentional. I wanted each of "The Man Who..." books to be able to stand alone as needed. There are several reasons. 1) It is almost a requirement of the genre. Mystery readers seem to want a lot of books about the same sleuth(s), and they want to be able to read those books in any order. (Unfortunately, this also implies that they do not want their sleuth(s)to "change"--a requirement which I've been unable to satisfy.) 2) I've always known that a lot of time would pass between installments in the series. I didn't foresee the *extent* to which my writing has slowed down; but I knew that these books would be sporadic at best. Writing them so that they could stand alone seemed like a necessary courtesy to my poor readers. Of course (this is me, remember) there *is* a larger story evolving in the background of "The Man Who..." books--which explains, at least in part, why my sleuth(s) do change. But I tried to ensure that the "foreground" story wasn't dependent on what lurks in the background. 3) I've never actually known how many installments the "background" story would require--which means that I've never been sure I would finish it. <sigh> So naturally I want each book to end at a viable "stopping place". Just in case, y'know, I don't quite succeed at living forever.... (09/07/2006)

<sigh> I don't understand why readers (you certainly aren't alone in this) are so eager to know about my mistakes. God knows there are enough mistakes right there in print. The significant thing about the mistakes which are *not* "right there in print," it seems to me, is not that I made them, but rather that I caught and corrected them. Asking me what my "corrected" mistakes were feels rather like asking me to undergo reverse dentistry; replace repaired teeth with decayed ones. But for the sake of keeping peace in the family, so to speak.... "This Day All Gods Die," US hardcover, p. 318. Try to imagine that chapter told from Davies' point of view. Just don't hurt yourself. My usual clue that I've wandered down the wrong POV path is that I can feel my writing become more and more superficial. The prose feels glib to me: it skims the surface of what I want to communicate. But no matter how hard I try to *force* myself deeper, I continue to skid along the outside of the characters. And eventually I reach a personal cul-de-sac: I find myself no longer able to forge ahead because the story no longer makes sense. At which point, more by personal symptomatology than by critical analysis, I realize what's happened. Then I go back to find the place where I took the wrong POV path, and I rewrite everything from that point on. 25 pages? 50? 100? It varies. Fortunately, I don't make this mistake very often--which is why I sometimes have trouble recognizing that I've gone wrong. (09/07/2006)

This seems a bit private for a public forum--on your side as well as on mine. But the absence of an e-mail address prevents a private reply, so.... Last question first. How did I know? That's what an imagination is for (although a bit of empathy doesn't hurt). Back then, I didn't have the kind of direct experience that informs my writing now (although I was intuitively aware that everyone is always broken, and that "healing," like "redemption," is a relative term). Now. The Introduction to "Reave the Just and Other Tales" doesn't actually say that I "found inspiration in [my] divorce to write." It says: "'The Kings of Tarshish Shall Bring Gifts' came to me while I was skidding down into a catastrophic divorce; 'Reave the Just' played a crucial role in my recovery afterward." In retrospect, it's tempting to look back at those stories and emphasize their thematic relevance. "The Kings" is an elegaic story about a young man who can't find the substance of his dreams within himself; who sees love and wonder and magic as external, beyond his power to choose. Which sounds a whole lot like "a catastrophic divorce" to me. "That other person is supposed to make me happy, but he/she isn't doing it. In fact, s/he is doing the exact opposite." "Reave the Just" is about a pair of "deluded" or "helpless" victims who are inspired to accept responsibility for the meaning of their own lives by an (imposed) awareness of someone else's suffering. I smell "recovery". But I think that such interpretations miss the real point. (So there's a relationship between my conscious and unconscious minds. So what? We knew that already. And stories aren't written in retrospect.) You asked *how*. From my perspective, it wasn't relief or anger or despair that drove me to write: it was writing (specifically storytelling) that enabled me to survive and eventually accomodate my relief and anger and despair. Storytelling has always been my #1 survival skill. "Service enables service." (Foamfollower had a fair amount to say about this.) We could get bogged down here in an attempt to define "despair"; but as far as I'm concerned, it always comes down to a feeling of being overwhelmed--or even erased--by things bigger than we are; of being less than worthless; of being helpless in the face of some vast and cruel darkness. A feeling of having the significance (or lack of significance) of our lives determined by something beyond our control. Well, storytelling--and Thomas Covenant--have taught me that no one has to accept that sorry state of affairs. Despair (I know this sounds harsh) is a *choice*: it is a decision (usually unconscious, I recognize) to be overwhelmed, to be helpless, to be erased. But as soon as someone (in my case, me) realizes that it *is* a choice, other choices become available. Sure, I had no power to make my marriage--or my divorce--into anything other than what they were. But the decision to surrender or affirm the meaning of my life was entirely mine. And, as I like to say, Anyone who *can* choose--*must* choose. So I chose storytelling over despair. And making that choice made it possible for me to go on making that choice. OK, so maybe the themes of "The Kings" and "Reave" are more germane than I want to admit. <rueful smile> (09/07/2006)

As with the martial arts, I'm totally eclectic about psychology. I want to expose myself to as many different approaches as possible; take what works for me and let the rest go. And although I enjoy theory, I'm really an empiricist: I latch onto anything that sheds light for me, and I discard the rest. Of course, I have opinions. Who doesn't? I think that Shotokan is a good place to start the martial arts because it provides a flexible foundation that adapts easily to other approaches. In the same way, you could say that I "believe in" Cognitive Therapy. But what I *really* believe is that it isn't about the style (or the theory): it's about the relationship between the guide and the student. Styles--and theories--that shed no light for me can be vividly illuminating for other people. In particular, creating characters is *not* about theory. I never apply any form of analytic construct to my characters. I think about their circumstances, I think about the "vibe" that my POV character gets from them, and I try to put myself in their shoes, experience what it's like to be them. (With a POV character, of course, it's a bit more complicated. But I can still pick up a "vibe" by watching how they interact with other characters.) And I *learn*: I get to know them as the story goes along, so that when I rewrite they become more real. (That, incidentally, is the biggest single difference between my first and last drafts of a story: the characters come into better focus as I rewrite.) It goes without saying, I think, that anything which sheds light for me improves my ability to create characters. (09/07/2006)

No, I didn't have any qualms about getting rid of Nick. I always knew that the story couldn't progress beyond a certain point (thematically, anyway) with Nick in it: I already had too many other characters clamoring to assume his role. But the actual details didn't become clear to me until I began to get to know Sorus Chatelaine in "Dark and Hung". (Sorry. Old joke.) As soon as I realized that she gave Nick his scars, I knew what had to happen in "Chaos and Order". (09/08/2006)

Well, what do you mean by "path"? My "wrong paths" usually involve POV (as I've discussed elsewhere). But sometimes they involve misunderstanding a character. And rarely, they involve trying out events which just don't work (or leaving out events that need to be in there). Thank God for rewriting! In terms of how difficult such problems are to fix, they are (in descending order of magnitude): POV mistakes, erroneous or missing events, misunderstood characters (refining my perception of character is such a normal part of rewriting that it hardly seems worthy of comment). (09/08/2006)

Anime has more possibilities than I first realized. But I can't help it: I want live action. Real actors with real faces as well as real voices. Not that anyone in the movie biz cares what I think.... (09/08/2006)

Thank you. But I must not have been clear when I said that I "failed" Davies. I didn't mean that I neglected to grant him enough narrative space: I meant that I didn't see deeply enough into his unique psyche. I persist in believing that a better writer could have shed more light into his character in the time and space available. (Just my opinion, of course.) Deceit has been a prominent feature of political life ever since human beings discovered that they were capable of lying. I'm less troubled by the fact that our political leaders lie than I am by the way our "news" media support the lies. (09/08/2006)

There are no "substantive" differences, but there *are* many differences, all of which--as far as I can tell--are due to the fact that my UK publisher "Anglicizes" the text. Spelling and punctuation are changed to conform to British usage. And where the US and the UK use different words to mean the same thing (e.g. vacation/holiday), my UK publisher makes the swap. Why? Beats the by-products out of me. Are British readers *incapable* of reading--and enjoying--a book written in US English? I doubt it. Still, US publishers often "Americanize" British books, so I guess I shouldn't complain. (09/08/2006)

In my opinion, you should bring all the books you want autographed. Who knows when you'll get the chance again? But when there are other people waiting in line, the polite thing to do is get three books signed and then go back to the end of line. Keep cycling through the line until you have all the autographs you want. (09/11/2006)

It's probably time to repeat that "news"--when there is any--appears first in the "news" section of this web site. If the publication information you're looking for isn't there, then I don't have it. I'll also repeat that my contract allows three years per book. This isn't my publishers' idea: I insisted on it. I need that much time. (09/11/2006)

You appear to be laboring under a misconception about the financial rewards of being a writer. Sure, if Covenant published enough bestsellers, he would eventually get "millions of dollars". But as far as I know, only his first book did that well. And I know from experience that one bestseller isn't enough to produce the kind of financial independence you describe. Not even close. Sure, Covenant could probably have chosen to live elsewhere. But he isn't the kind of guy who runs away from his circumstances. After he gets done wallowing in them <grin> in the first trilogy, he faces them head-on. If he just *moved* whenever life got tough, he probably wouldn't be worth writing about. (09/11/2006)

For readers who are interested.... (09/11/2006)

I think we've been over this. First, fantasy is inherently a-rational. It must abide by its own internal logic; but it doesn't have to play by the same rules as our "normal" reality. Second, "The Chronicles" are all about paradox. And third (a point which makes perfect sense to me), the rules for "reaching out" from inside a closed system in order to connect to another closed system are fundamentally and inevitably different than the rules for "reaching into" a closed system from an unlimited, effectively infinite system in order to change the closed system. The two actions cannot be compared to each other. The first ("reaching out") is comparable to my attempt to answer your question. The second ("reaching into") might be comparable to my deciding that in "Fatal Revenant" the story would be more exciting if Revelstone could fly, or if Linden were male, or if Lord Foul were vulnerable to kryptonite. By "reaching out," I may very well affect your thinking, but I can't *impose* anything on you without your underlying consent. (Joan, like the commune she joined, was willing, nay, eager to be manipulated.) By "reaching into" my story in order to alter its internal logic and integrity, I can only destroy it. (09/12/2006)

Strangely, the most common complaint about large-scale fantasies is that the *ending*, not the middle, is the weakest part. The writer sets up something interesting, it chugs along for a while (retaining interest by introducing more and more complications), and then falls apart because the writer has no idea how to tie it all together in a satisfying fashion. But in your case... Well, I suspect (and I really am just speculating) that the first book is "work" (because you have to become accustomed to a whole new world, all new characters, etc., etc.) and the last book is a bereavement (because you have to let go of the things in which you've been immersing yourself), but in the middle you can just relax and enjoy it (reaping the benefits of the first book without experiencing the pangs of the last). (09/12/2006)

I think it's clear that "The Real Story" does a lot to discourage people from reading the GAP books. It's *short*, hardly more than a pamphlet. Its narrative strategies are different than anything I've used before or since. And then there's the content.... <sigh> Nevertheless "The Real Story" was a conscious and deliberate departure from my usual methodologies. The problem I was trying to solve is a simple one: how can I lure the reader (not to mention myself) into spending an entire epic in the company of characters as despicable as Angus and Nick, or as "victimized" as Morn? Plunging head first into debasement on that scale didn't seem like a viable option: I would expect the reader to reel away in disgust. Hell, I wanted to reel away in disgust myself. So I decided to approach the nature of my characters in a gingerly, almost tentative fashion, hoping to snag the reader's interest by peeling off layers of misconception to reach the truth. I was trying to create a situation in which the *snag* would be stronger than the revulsion. Judging purely by sales, I failed miserably. But I don't consider "The Real Story"--or the GAP books--an artistic failure. It seems to me that spiraling rapidly down into darkness, and then having to scratch and claw back out again, is a fairly common human experience. And we never know what someone else is going through--or what they need in order to recover--unless we get a chance to peel away the layers. (09/12/2006)

The magic of images/reflections in "Mordant's Need" pertains specifically to glass mirrors. An image reflected in still water, or in some polished metal, would pose no danger. For the purposes of that story, I wanted to posit a very limited and (in some sense) "technological" form of magic (a lot of mechanical skill goes into making those mirrors)--although I've never been able to envision a "magic" which didn't ultimately rely on human talent/imagination/personality/spirit. (09/12/2006)

Haven't we covered this? It's the scene where Pietten tries to kill Covenant; where Lena dies saving Covenant, and he "releases" the Ranyhyn from their bond to him. (09/12/2006)

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Some editors *do* "claim" the books they publish. Lester and Judy-Lynn del Rey not only launched their own imprint (DEL REY Books), but also put their personal "seals" (in Lester's case, a heraldic griffin) on the covers. Other editors "announce" themselves in the front matter of books: e.g. "Edited by Patrick Nielsen Hayden". There's a lot that could be said on the subject. For example, these "claims" can be seen as an attempt to shift attention away from the author to the editor. And like everything else (including the relationship between the editor and the author), such "claims" can be abused. But the general argument in their favor goes like this. 1) The editor made a meaningful contribution to the book (including the decision to publish it in the first place). Why shouldn't s/he get some credit--or accept some responsibility? 2) The "claim" permits you to compare your taste to that of the editor. Within two or three books, you'll know whether you and that editor like the same things. Then you can use the "claim" as a guide when you're deciding whether or not to give an unfamiliar writer a try. So what (apart from publication) constitudes "a meaningful contribution"? That varies wildly from one writer to the next--and from one editor to the next. In my case, no editor has ever determined the content of my work (although God knows Lester tried). But several editors (including Lester) have helped me to communicate my intentions more effectively. For that alone, I've always been happy to have their names on my books. (09/13/2006)

First, I have to object to the use of the word "merely" to describe any decision about POV in a story. <wry smile> Since any story can stand or fall on how POV is deployed, no choice is insignificant. "So that an important scene can be told as it happens" is not a trivial--or simple--reason for choosing a particular POV. After all, POV *always* reveals character (nothing "merely" about that), even when the character in question is dedicated to keeping secrets. It also establishes relationships with the reader; relationships which would not be available from some other POV. OK, now that I've got that off my chest.... It's important to remember that in "Mordant's Need" the fantasy world is explicitly accepted as "real". (It's her own substance Terisa doubts, not that of Geraden, or Saddith, or the Tor, or anyone else.) Therefore there's no inherent reason why *any* particular character can't serve as a POV. Most of the story is told through Terisa's eyes because I want to convey (as much as humanly possible) what it's like to be in her shoes; to experience such fundamental self-doubt while struggling to understand--and make decisions about--the (far more) real people around her. But I also want to convey (again, as much as humanly possible) that the people around her *are* real, that they make their own decisions for their own reasons, and that their actions have a material effect on the context within which she struggles. In order to accomplish this, I have to *show* the other characters in action: I have to demonstrate their "reality" in "real time," instead of presenting it as hearsay filtered through Terisa's POV. AND I have to do all of that without violating the parameters of Terisa's struggle (which is, after all, the centerpiece of the story). Therefore most of the story is told from Terisa's POV. Characters like Prince Kragen view events directly (as well as in "real time") because their actions are critical, and because they are (in essence) trying to solve the same puzzle Terisa is. And characters like Master Eremis view events obliquely (again preserving the "real time" requirement) because concealment is crucial to their intentions. (09/13/2006)

Well, I did in fact make that statement. In public. Thinking back, I'm inclined to wish I hadn't said it. But we don't get to live our lives thinking back. <sigh> However. Like all of the public statements I made about "The Last Chronicles" years (decades?) ago, that one was designed to both reveal and conceal my intentions. Saying that "Thomas Covenant becomes Lord Foul" barely hints at the complexity of what I have in mind. Incidentally, a book tour is probably the only thing that would take me to Australia. (No offense. It's a very long trip, life is short, and I've already been there once.) And book tours are decided entirely by my publishers: I get to say yes or no, but I don't get to choose *where*. What my publishers may or may not want me to do in the years to come is completely unknown to me. (09/14/2006)

I have to do one thing at a time. That's just the way I am. I won't be able to do any effective writing on Covenant 9 until "Fatal Revenant" is officially *done*. Although naturally I'm doing a fair amount of thinking/planning ahead. In fact, my stack of notes for the last two books is bigger than the stack I had for all of "The Last Chronicles" when I started work on "The Runes of the Earth". (09/14/2006)

I accept your interpretation of the Second Law of Thermodynamics. (I'm no physicist, but it sounds right.) And I accept your conclusion that breaking the Arch of Time would break "the *arrow* of time," thus making entropy meaningless. But I don't think that any of us would like the results. As far as I can see, if entropy were rendered moot (by eliminating "the *arrow* of time"), the outcome would be...nothingness. Not freedom, not "redemption," not any concept that has human significance: just non-existence. Because if "the *arrow* of time" isn't pointing "forward," it isn't pointing anywhere, and nothing can ever happen. Ever again. As a matter of principle, I like "twisted logic." But in this case: sorry, no bonus points for you. <grin> (09/14/2006)

Since I'm no linguist <dramatic understatement>, I pretty much always choose such things for the way they sound. In general, I don't usually want them to have "literal" meanings. That can be painfully reductive. (I'm reminded of Doctor Strange's utterly unconvincing "incantations" in Marvel Comics several decades ago.) On the other hand, I wouldn't accept Kinslaughterer's "authority" on the subject. He's a Raver: why would he tell the truth? (09/15/2006)

Superficially, the explanation is obvious. People want to have the same experience again: feel the same emotions; enjoy the same pleasures. In one form or another, in one aspect of our lives or another, we all do it (hence, for example, "comfort food"--and romance novels). There can be something deeply reassuring about repeating experiences we value. They provide a form of stability and comfort--especially when we don't particularly like our actual lives. (I well remember a period of at least two years during which I obsessively watched episodes of "Dr Who" over and over again.) But I suspect that (at least in some cases) there may be deeper reasons. For example, a person may return to an experience (a book, a movie, an activity: anything that engages both the mind and the emotions) because he/she senses intuitively that the experience holds a "lesson" or insight which s/he wants to learn or acquire. (This is almost certainly not a conscious process: it's driven by instinct.) Or, for another example, a person may wish to *measure* him/herself against the yardstick of a valued experience: we can learn a lot about ourselves by seeing if/how the experience has changed since the last time we visited it (new insights into ourselves? new insights into the book or movie or activity?) (This tends to be a more conscious process.) In my case, for instance, I re-read LOTR whenever I feel a need to a) re-examine my own convictions/priorities in regard to writing fantasy, or b) search for a deeper understanding of Tolkien's achievement. (09/18/2006)

No, I'm not "that guy". I keep myself too isolated (or "private," if you prefer). And writing gives me time to think, which then allows me to seem "wiser" than I really am. <grin> (09/18/2006)

If I recall correctly (which is by no means certain <sigh>), my comment about "repetition" had to do with technique rather than theme. Of course, your query could apply to both. But from my perspective, they are very different questions. Speaking of theme: I don't worry about repetition. At all. Two reasons. 1) I don't set out to write about "themes". I set out to write about characters, emotions, and events; and somehow along the way themes emerge. If the same themes emerge over and over again, doubtless they do so because of who I am. But I still don't worry about "repeating myself" because: 2) As long as I continue to grow as a person and an artist, as long as I continue to raise my sights and push myself to tackle challenges I don't know how to handle, I'll never truly "repeat myself" because I won't be exactly the same person who wrote the previous story. *Some* aspect of what I'm doing will be "more" or "different" than it was before. In practice, technical repetition is a far more difficult and complex subject--because it's SO &$%&*&$% *subjective*. There are no rules: there are only instinct (feel) and experience, plus the kind of education that comes from studying how other writers deploy their techniques. One trivial example. Speaking entirely and solely for myself, I'm, well, let's call it "vulnerable" to "-ing" words. I *notice* them (unlike millions of happier mortals). And when a writer can't get through a paragraph without five or seven or ten "-ing" words, I don't just notice: I get distracted from the story. After a few paragraphs in a row of the same, my impatience turns into vexation. And yet I don't know even one other reader who reacts as I do. Or another, less trivial example: I know from reading the GI that some readers react negatively when they encounter "puissant" 10 times in 250,000 words; but the same repetition doesn't bother me at all. See? Subjective. So there can't be any rules or guidelines. In the end, every writer has to do what "feels right" to him/her, and let the chips fall where they may. (09/18/2006)

First let me confirm your memory. In the mid-80s, Caedmon released an LP, read by yrs trly, of an excerpt from "White Gold Wielder". Cover art by Real Musgrave. A commercial disaster, despite Musgrave's inspired work. Now. In fact, I've been known to say that I "wrote the story backward," but that's glib and misleading. It would be more accurate to say that I *planned* the story backward. I've never (and I do mean NEVER) written the last chapter first. I've never even considered doing so. In order to protect the integrity and development of what my characters (and I) experience, I write from beginning to end. And I never deviate from that approach. But the *planning*-- Well, I've said it dozens of times: I can't write at all unless I know where I'm going. (09/18/2006)

I've read a fair amount of Azimov, and enjoyed much of it. In my opinion (and his), he was not a great writer. (He once wrote of himself: "I am not a great writer by any standard I respect.") Rather he was an intelligent and skilled craftsman who knew what he was doing. (09/18/2006)

Like "Realms of Fantasy," "The Atlas of the Land" is *long* out of print. As is "Gilden-Fire"--although it endured long past its legal "expiration date" (I think I've discussed the unauthorized Science Fiction Book Club edition elsewhere in the GI). (09/19/2006)

Well, it isn't one question <rueful smile>: it's several. But I've left your complex message unpruned because I believe that your reasoning deserves to stand as you wrote it--whether or not I can actually answer any of your questions. My reactions, for what they're worth.... You appear to assign a lot of *choice* (therefore power and responsibility) to fairly ordinary human beings. (Of course, I'm all about *choice* myself; but from my perspective that operates entirely in a personal arena, not on a societal or historical stage.) "The deliberate inspiration of humanity" may (or may not) be something that an individual creative artist *wants* (Wagner certainly had the ego for it); but I don't consider it something that the artist can *choose*. The power of any creative act depends on a synergy between the unique inspiration of the artist, the specific dispositions of the audience as individuals (which of course vary wildly over time), and the societal/cultural milieu in which the creative act is received (which again varies wildly over time: consider that Hitler came along decades after Wagner's death). The artist can choose what he/she creates, but can *not* choose the various dispositions of the individuals in the audience, or the continuously modulating societal/cultural milieu. (Never mind the fact that the artist cannot choose his/her natural gifts as a communicator.) In consequence, whether or not I (for example) "feel motivated by the desire to redeem humanity" is pretty much irrelevant. It either happens or it doesn't (in this lifetime, or at some point in the future): I couldn't *make* it happen if I wanted to. Do I "think that humanity can be improved by replacing destructive internal mythologies with more constructive ones?" Well, of course. But so what? Whether or not I have any say in the matter isn't up to me. (Meanwhile, I'm deliberately side-stepping the whole issue of what makes an "internal mythology" "constructive" rather than "destructive".) As a ludicrous example of assigning too much responsibility to the artist: on one notable occasion, I was publicly accused of *causing* drug abuse in the US (because--duh!--reading fantasy leads directly to drugs). Then (same occasion) I was accused of *causing* the Russian invasion of Afghanistan (because--why didn't I think of this myself?--by being a conscientious objector I empowered the Russian war machine). (09/20/2006)

Interesting? Sure. Sane? Not particularly. <grin> (09/20/2006)

I'm not sure how to take your question. I re-read immediately preceding sentences (and paragraphs) constantly. I can't imagine *not* doing that. And every day before I start work I re-read the previous day's efforts. But do you mean re-read *the whole thing*? In that case <shudder>, no. I'd never get anything done. However, I often do a lot of "spot checking," flipping back to earlier passages to confirm what I've already done. Does that count? (09/20/2006)

Chuck Norris could crush me with his right wrist handcuffed to his left ankle. At his level of expertise, I'm just a casual dilettante. (09/20/2006)

I would if I had one. As far as I can recall, however, that song seemed to arise pretty naturally from Pitchwife himself (and from his circumstances, of course). (09/20/2006)

As far as I know, my books are sent directly to Canada from the US, so the Canadian and US "versions" are literally identical. US publishers usually insist on including Canada in their contracts. But in J. K. Rowling's case, her original (UK) publisher can dictate any terms they want. (09/20/2006)

Yes, I've had that pleasure several times. I don't really "know" him, but he has always treated me with exceptional courtesy. And he gives off a good "vibe," for whatever that (purely subjective) perception is worth. (09/21/2006)

Well, I suppose I could break down and actually *ask* my editor when (or if) Ace plans to release "The Runes of the Earth" in mass-market paperback. (The UK version came out a long time ago.) That would be more useful than guessing. But whatever happens, I very much doubt that the mass-market "Runes" will contain a "teaser" from "Fatal Revenant". That increases the cost of publication. Why spend the extra bucks when my web site offers a cheap (by which I mean completely free) alternative? No, I think it's far more likely that the "teaser" for "Fatal Revenant" (if there is one) will appear here rather than in any edition of "Runes". In any case, the whole "preview" approach is more effective for writers who write faster and sell more than I do. (09/21/2006)

You're right: this does make me squirm. <sigh> First, let me state categorically that I am NOT suggesting that Lena wanted to be raped. Or that any woman wants to be raped. Or that any human being ever asks for or deserves such violence. Covenant (if he were here) would be the first to tell you that his treatment of Lena was both unconscionable and indefensible. Still, I do believe that Lena made a choice. (After all, she could have just jumped in the river.) A passive and unconscious choice, certainly--but a choice nonetheless. And I believe that people are responsible for their choices, even when those choices are passive and unconscious. To say otherwise is to deny the humanity of the person in question. Sure, Lena did NOT choose to be raped--but she also did NOT choose to fight or flee (or even scream). (Sidebar. Research by psychologists confirms over and over again that people who choose to fight back--against any rape-like violation--suffer significantly less emotional trauma *afterward* than people who choose to submit, even when the people who fight back suffer more physical damage than those who submit.) Now. I *assure* you that I do not mean any of this as a criticism of Lena. Far from it. I feel nothing but empathy for her--and outrage at Covenant. But the way I see it, she allowed her near-adulation for Covenant, and her teenage desire to be important to him, to paralyse her, well, let's call them her survival instincts. And her choice is full of meaning. (At least it is for me.) First, it underscores the nature of Covenant's crime (and of his own unconscious impulse to side with the Despiser). Second, it is emblematic of the acceptance and tolerance with which the people of the Land treat Covenant--even when that acceptance and tolerance involve severe self-sacrifice. And third, it reveals--in the most intimate and personal way possible--what acceptance and tolerance can COST. Thus (I think) it shows the sheer *scale* of the risk that the Lords (and Atiaran) take when they choose trust and hope over retribution. I hope this answers your question. (09/21/2006)

If I recall the conversation (by no means a sure thing <sigh>), I began it by telling him that I wish I had written "A Rose for Ecclesiates" [sp?]. But I was much younger then, and reacted differently to many things. Nowadays I place a higher value on the fact that I didn't write--and couldn't have written--anyone else's work. I'm more inclined to like stories and novels *because* (at least in part) it would not have occurred to me to try to write them myself. When I feel envious of another writer, I envy his/her unique skills, not what s/he has done with those skills. (09/22/2006)

(I've pruned your message quite a bit, mainly to make it easier to answer. <rueful smile>) In regard to Joan: it's important to remember a) that I never intended to continue past the first "Covenant" trilogy, and b) I planned the story backward--which implies that I never intended Joan to play any role apart from her present place in the first trilogy. So no, I didn't drop or change my plans for her: I didn't have any plans. (Of course, when I realized that I *did* want to continue into the "Second" and "Last Chronicles," I mined--for lack of a better term--the first trilogy assiduously, digging up the raw materials I needed. But that's a completely separate issue.) Why, then, did I describe Joan the way I did? I had a number of reasons. Primarily I was planting the seeds of the up-coming story in Covenant's conscious/unconscious mind; the seeds from which he "sprouts" his fantasy. (Look for Giants early in LFB. Shucks, I even foreshadowed Foamfollower's role as a sort of "moral arbiter".) Joan, not Covenant, was involved with horses: hence the presence of Ranyhyn--and his inability to "bond" with them. On a far more personal level, however--well, I'll admit to some prejudice here. Over the years, I've known a fair number of women who were passionately involved with horses; and every one of them would have dropped her husband in a heartbeat if he ever failed to be docile or "safe" enough. To my mind--especially way back then--a woman who "broke" horses was a sure bet to behave as Joan did. In addition: I've mentioned before that because I had never written fantasy until then, and had no idea what I was getting into, I felt a need to start with the familiar. Haven Farm (and its woods) was based directly on the place where I lived when I wrote the first trilogy. And Joan was modeled on several women I knew then (in other words, back in those days I didn't think of her as a real character: she was just a plot mechanism). As for the Scroyles: well, from my perspective, you underestimate the importance of their role in the asteroid battle; and the importance of what they reveal about Hashi Lebwohl; and their importance as a statement about the spectrum of people who live "outside the law" in this story. This last point is not a trivial issue. Sure, Holt Fasner's increasingly corrupt hegemony nurtures scum (the Bill, Milos Taverner). It accommodates "redeemable" rogues (Sorus Chatelaine). It leaves a fair number of basically decent people (Mikka Vasaczk, Vector Shaheed) in ethical limbo. But it also forces people with a certain kind of personal integrity or honor (the Scroyles) to find a path outside the rules; to define themselves by a private rather than a public moral code. (Which, *not* coincidentally, is where characters like Angus and Mikka and Vector end up.) Individuals like the Scroyles, and Liete Corregio, and Lane Harbinger are given (brief) prominence because of the light they shed on the characters around them--and on the story as a whole. (09/22/2006)

I first took up karate as an emotional outlet: I studied kata as a "dance of anger" which enabled me to vent distress which I could not express (safely) in any other form. But since then I've fallen in love with the martial arts, both for their own sake, and for what they contribute to my emotional and psychological well-being (among other things, they are a rich source of metaphors for my inner journeys). When I find myself in one of my narrative cul-de-sacs, I first have to go back and find the place where I "stepped off the path". Then I have to rewrite everything from that place onward (although I do draw much of my material from my erroneous first draft). (09/22/2006)

To me, this sounds rather--unsympathetic. The man is a pariah, remember. What sort of engagement with his community do you think his neighbors would tolerate? He writes novels, which from my (perhaps selfish) perspective seems like an attempt to be "engaged," to give something back (although of course he can't actually write in public). He "gives alms to the poor" in the form of paying for their medical care (ref. both TWL and TROTE). And (don't underestimate the import of this) he doesn't run away: he doesn't (for example) change his name and move, looking for a "friendlier" place to live. In short, he does a lot more than I could do in his situation. (09/23/2006)

I don't believe that I have the power to *cause* ANYthing, so I don't think in those terms. Because I know what I'm going to write before I write it (and because writing is fundamentally different than reading), I don't/can't react the way a reader might. In general, however, I do try to find ways (both in planning and in writing) to maximize the intensity of my own experience--on the theory that, beneath the surface, my readers and I have a lot in common. "The Real Story" (the first GAP book) is an exception. There I *feared* the intensity of my material. So I departed from my usual methodologies in a conscious, deliberate attempt to NOT "provoke such strong feelings". By introducing the story in layers, I was trying a) to engage the reader intellectually before the emotions started to kick in, and b) to defuse the impact of those emotions by approaching them obliquely. After all, readers who feel "revulsion" in book one aren't likely to read the rest of the story--but the rest of the story is essential, if only to *justify* book one. <sigh> (09/23/2006)

Here, as in so many other areas, "The Man Who..." books are an exception. I didn't begin to sense the presence of "a larger story in the background" until I was working on book two--and the exact nature of that "larger story" didn't become clear to me until I was planning book three. Meanwhile the conventions of the genre require books that can stand alone. (09/23/2006)

I said everything I want to say about "What Makes Us Human" in the preface to "Reave the Just and Other Tales". It certainly wasn't a *conscious* preparation for anything. Neither were "Animal Lover" and "Mythological Beast," my two other forays into sf before the GAP books. (09/24/2006)

I wasn't aware of it. Is it accessible anywhere on the Internet? I'd like to take a look at it. And if it's suitable for this web site, I'd like to be able to get in touch with the author. (09/24/2006)

I like to think that it's because good fantasy isn't about the external, material world (the world of technology): it's about the internal world of emotion and imagination. Good fantasy is relevant, not because it discusses the world in which we live, but because it discusses who we are in that world. And "who we are" doesn't change anywhere near as quickly as the external world does. (09/25/2006)

First, "Mordant's Need." You're right: hypothetical questions like that don't work for me because they're both obvious and unanswerable. Would "The Mirror of Her Dreams" be a different book if I wrote it today? Of course. I'm a different person--and a different writer--than I was 20 years ago. But I can't imagine what those differences would be because the story is already fixed in my mind (and I haven't re-read it in a very long time). But you aren't the first reader to comment that "The Runes of the Earth" seems *different* in some impressionistic way than the earlier Chronicles. "Runes" isn't literally *short*: it's longer than any previous "Covenant" book. And I can't relate to the idea that "relatively little happened." But there's no doubt that my characters spend more time "discussing their circumstances" than they do in the previous books; and these discussions probably don't seem like *events* (although they feel like events to me). I have a variety of responses. In no particular order: 1) There is an obvious (I think) "sea change" taking place in my work. Over the course of the past 20+ years, my stories are becoming more and more concerned with how my characters relate to each other (ref. various discussions about "character" and "dignity" earlier in the GI). 2) One of my ambitions for "The Last Chronicles" is that it will weave together *all* the "Covenant" books. Therefore I have an enormous number of threads to pick up from the earlier books. But my chosen POV (restricted 3rd person) limits the means available to pick up those threads. Under the circumstances, having my characters talk to each other seems like a natural (and relatively efficient) way of accomplishing my goal. 3) It isn't just "Runes". Ever since "Mordant's Need" (a pivotal work in my development as a writer), I've found that as the narrative edifices I want to construct become larger and more complex, they require larger and more complex foundations. I need to spend more time/space/words doing what I sometimes call "unrolling the canvas". Setting up the things I want to do later in the story. Look at the first two GAP books, which are (I think) absolutely necessary, but which in themselves do little more than hint at the scale of what's coming. (He*l, in the GAP books I was still unrolling the canvas through most of book three.) After reading just "The Real Story"--or "The Real Story" and "Forbidden Knowledge"--no one could guess what's about to unfold. Indeed, compared to the first two GAP books, "Runes" is downright *obvious* in terms of what it reveals about forthcoming events. Well, I believe that such foundations are critical to the effectiveness of the story as a whole. If you want to send a rocket into space, you'd better build a pretty da*n solid launch platform. In short, if you're concerned that "the pacing is going to remain the same for the rest of the series," read the GAP books. Or look at "The Man Who Fought Alone," where the first "crime" doesn't occur until a third of the way through the book. (09/26/2006)