It’s that time of year. Ask me questions. I’ll answer.
Ask about the writing process, or whether it’s true I snort coffee straight from the bag before I sit down at the keyboard. Ask about my novels, or my characters. About plot and structure and dialogue and research. Or how I feel about talent, inspiration, and luck. About the secret tunnels under the Vatican, and about that thing that has built a nest in the attic. What the hell is it?
I’ll be here all week.