Working in any of the creative arts makes for an odd sort of existence and writers spend most of their time in their heads talking to imaginary friends. Our aim is to spin lies sufficiently well to entice the reader into sharing this make-believe world. Except once we have achieved that, we then brood on how we can make the entire fabrication feel exactly like real life even though everyone knows it is a story. The solution to this conundrum is deceptively simple: build all flights of fancy on the truths of the human condition. That we will all experience love and hope and despair and betrayal and joy and bleakness, grief and deep gratitude. And hundreds of other emotions besides. My novels explore those. So here is a peek into the bubbling cauldron they come from. Me.