Short StoryAuvers sur Oise,

I write because I still feel like the thirteen year old boy I was, stranded in that awful boarding school, unable to conceive of anything else I would want to be other than a writer.
I write because when I do, I rub off the sharp edges of the world and make them easier to bear.
I write because I have a deadline, because I have an itch to scratch, because there are characters in trouble whoI have placed in difficult situations and they need my help.
I write because not writing would be unthinkable – and because it’s my reason for being.