This Is The Forked Tongue Of Grief

On The Girl's Brown Legs There Were Many Small White Scars. I Was Thinking, Do Those Scars Cover The Whole Of You, Like The Stars And The Moons On Your Dress? I Thought That Would Be Pretty Too, And I Ask You Right Here Please To Agree With Me That A Scar Is Never Ugly. That Is What The Scar Makers Want Us To Think. But You And I, We Must Make An Agreement To Defy Them. We Must See All Scars As Beauty. Okay? This Will Be Our Secret. Because Take It From Me, A Scar Does Not Form On The Dying. A Scar Means, I Survived.

We Must See All Scars As Beauty. Okay? This Will Be Our Secret. Because Take It From Me, A Scar Does Not Form On The Dying. A Scar Means, 'i Survived'.

I'm Always Determined That As A Novelist I'm Going To Go Out There And Research My Characters Very Thoroughly Before I Start Writing.

I Like To Push Characters To Extremes So They Have To Make Really Tough Decisions And There Is No Life More Extreme Than That Of An Athlete.

When I Reached Fort Binjemma, For Example, Where My Grandfather Was Stationed For A While, The Whole Victorian Fort Was Decaying. Barbed Wire Surrounded It, Spray Paint On The Ancient Walls Claimed It As Private Property, And The Moat Where My Grandfather And His Men Had Grown Crops - In Desperation As The Siege's Hunger Bit - Was Completely Overgrown With Bushes And Trees.