f0aa55_c215c899908708e5cae60021e6f91826.jpg_srz_261_371_75_22_0.50_1.20_0You’re not crazy about being interviewed, are you?

 No.  I don’t like talking about myself.  That’s why I write fiction: to talk about other people.

 

Does it make it any better that this is a self-interview?

 That makes it worse, actually.  I have to do twice as much talking.

51jB6gR4KMLTerror Birds

 

Jack: My mother used to tell me that I was a changeling, born out of an ostrich egg. We lived then on an ostrich farm, so it was not as strange as it sounds. At the age of nine, I went through a monster phase, in which Mom indulged me. She and I would drive to the library and come home with books of real-life horrors, which she would read to me before bed, as though to guarantee I would not fall asleep until dawn. I loved them all: giant squids, alligators, and woolly mammoths, now extinct. But none could touch the majesty and strangeness of the beasts I was accustomed to.