I am ill at ease with people whose lives are an open book

Well, of course, people are only human... But it really does not seem much for them to be.

There isn't much to say. I haven't been at all deedy.

At a certain point my novels set. They set just as hard as that jam jar. And then I know they are finished.

Time is not a great healer. It is an indifferent and perfunctory one. Sometimes it does not heal at all. And sometimes when it seems to, no healing has been necessary.

Real life seems to have no plots