My theory of characterization is basically this: Put some dirt on a hero, and put some sunshine on the villain, one brush stroke of beauty on the villain.

My inventing time is all done under the influence of aerobic exercise. Basically, I do all my thinking while I run.

And the best sort of villain is smart and subtle and so very tricky that you don't even know he's the villain, because he thinks himself the hero in his own story.

There are only three types of citizenship: hero, villain, nobody.

She perched on her windowsill, gazing at the lurid sun soaking into the Caldera, trying to appreciate it even though she couldn’t have it. Why did she always feel she had to do something in the face of beauty?

If you write a good action sequence well in a novel, you're already writing it for film, because the only way to do it well is to use some of the same tricks. They're rhetorical, not visual, but it's the same move.