Lovers Of Audio Books Learn To Live

The Only Bright Spot In The Entire Evening Was The Presence Of Kevin "tubby" Matchwell, The Eleven-year-old Porker Who Tackled The Role Of Santa With A Beguiling Authenticity. The False Beard Tended To Muffle His Speech, But They Could Hear His Chafing Thighs All The Way To The North Pole.

I Hoped Our Lives Would Continue This Way Forever, But Inevitably The Past Came Knocking. Not The Good Kind That Was Collectible But The Bad Kind That Had Arthritis.

Someone Told Me Something Recently About Sarah Palin, Someone I Trusted In The Book Business. They Said, "i Worked With Palin. She Did An Event At My Bookstore, And She Was Really, Really Nice, And Even More Beautiful In Person." I Didn't Want To Hear That. I Wanted To Hear That She Was Awful And Hideous-looking. But I Thought, I Have To Listen To That. I Have To Hear That. I Don't Want To Be The One Who Is Going To Deny Anything Complimentary Said About Somebody Just Because I Disagree With That Person.

I Started Writing When I Was Twenty. My First Book Came Out When I Was Thirty-five. But I Never Expected That It Would Happen Quickly.

I Am A Person Who Feels Guilty For Crimes I Have Not Committed, Or Have Not Committed In Years. The Police Search The Train Station For A Serial Rapist And I Cover My Face With A Newspaper, Wondering If Maybe I Did It In My Sleep. The Last Thing I Stole Was An Eight-track Tape, But To This Day I'm Unable To Enter A Store Without Feeling Like A Shoplifter. It's All The Anxiety With None Of The Free Stuff.