Speaking only on the basis of my personal experience, and of the experiences of the few people I've talked to about this.... It seems to clear to me that things like font size and style have an objective effect on readers. Simple practicality: when a font is large and distinct and spacious enough to be read with ease, readers are able to move both more quickly and more comfortably (which naturally increases the pleasure); and since the majority of readers are becoming old enough to experience declining eyesight, the issue is serious. I've heard several people say they no longer read because fonts have become too small and effortful. (So why do publishers keep shrinking their fonts? Short-term thinking--which usually produces self-defeating results. Smaller fonts use less paper, which cuts costs. So fewer people buy the book, so costs need to be cut further, so fonts become even smaller.) As you've observed, perhaps the biggest advantage of devices like the Kindle (apart from the question of bulk) is the ability to choose a font size that works for the individual reader. But other issues of presentation seem pretty idiosyncratic to me. For some people, a book is only "real" if it's a hardback. Paperbacks are too disposable (and sometimes harder to hold). (Plus they typically have larger fonts.) But for me, a book is only "real" when it's a mass market paperback. I grew up poor: paperbacks are my *definition* of real books. I wouldn't voluntarily read a hardback, or a trade paperback, if I could get my hands on a mass market paperback. And these days even my own books don't seem "real" to me because they aren't published in mass market. Go figure. As for paper quality, I only notice it when I'm signing books. The character of the paper affects how smoothly my pen moves. (03/09/2011)

I don't think you've missed anything. NONE of my characters (except the ur-viles and Waynhim themselves) know why those creatures serve Linden--or even oppose Esmer. If I succeed at my intentions, their reinterpretation of their Wierd will eventually be clarified. But that reinterpretation hasn't been defined for the reader yet. (Hinted at, yes: defined, no.) I don't use the Gradual Interview to discuss my personal views on the subjects you raise. It's not just that I don't consider them relevant. I'm afraid that my personal views will be used to (mis)interpret the story. But it can't be insignificant that *religions* appear in my stories so rarely. (Unless you consider the Council of Lords' service to the Land a religion.) (03/09/2011)

There *is* no contradiction. You said it yourself: I was "much younger" back then. I was still discovering myself as a writer. In that process, I tried my hand at all kinds of things which turned out to be Not What I'm Good At. For example, the experience having one of my plays performed at Kent State convinced me (in no uncertain terms) that I am *not* cut out to be a playwright. But the fact that I made the experiment *then* doesn't affect the integrity of what I'm doing *now*. Those earlier experiments enriched what I've become. (03/09/2011)

Every writer has his/her own way of writing--and of thinking about writing. King isn't the only writer who eschews adverbs (however vehemently): Elmore Leonard and Kurt Vonnegut leap to mind. And he isn't the only writer who preaches against adverbs. All I can offer is my own opinions (and my own writing). But here's how I look at it. Adverbs are words, and words are the tools of the writer's craft. If any particular tool produces clumsy (or apparently clumsy) results, that isn't the tool's fault. But nor is it (I hasten to add) necessarily the tool-wielder's fault. We all have limitations. No tool-wielder is equally adept--or equally comfortable--with every tool. That isn't a "fault": it's just a fact of life. As it happens, I can't say what I mean without adverbs. Perhaps King can't say what he means *with* adverbs. So what? I'm not trying to write his prose, and he isn't trying to write mine. We're both just using the tools that suit us. (03/10/2011)

I don't think in terms of "rules" when I'm at work. But I certainly have "goals." The first and foremost of which is, Write SOMEthing. (I can't very well call myself a writer if I don't actually string words together in some sort of--hopefully--useful sequence.) And toward that end, my daily guideline (I'm sure I've said this before) is: It's OK to write badly. I can always rewrite later; something good will come of it eventually; and in the meantime virtually any writing is better than not writing. My secondary goal is to write enough to invoke the sensation that I'm making real progress; that what I'm writing is "alive" in some sense. That's important to me (although the amount of writing necessary to reach that point varies wildly from one session to the next). But it only comes into play when I have well and truly met my first goal. (Do I have to mention that I also resist distractions--phone calls, surfing the net, paying bills, whatever--as much as my circumstances allow? Isn't that axiomatic?) But seriously: what's wrong with encouraging you to expand your vocabulary? Words are the tools of thought. The more words you know, the more things you can think about. (03/10/2011)

Actually, I *do* sign thousands of what are called "tip-in sheets." (Counting both the US and the UK, I signed nearly 10,000 for "Runes.") My publishers require it: they think it increases sales. These sheets of paper are then bound into the published books and sold (or even given away). So I think you can be confident that the signature "pasted into" your book is authentic. (If it isn't, the person faking it is wasting his/her time.) (03/10/2011)

Who knows? Covenant *was* part of the Arch of Time, after all. Maybe that gave him access to different realities as well as different times. (03/10/2011)

Do I "set out to 'educate' [my] reader"? Not at all. That would stray (never mind seduce me) into the realm of polemics, which I avoid as stringently as I can. I do what I do in the service of the story. What the reader gets out of the story (if anything) is up to him/her. (03/10/2011)

"Nothing more than that"? Dream on. At my age, *everything* is more than that. <grin> (03/10/2011)

Unless someone is channeling my subconscious, nobody else living or dead knows the end of the story. I've given out plenty of hints, of course (my whole life's work is a hint of one kind or another), but most of them (the concrete ones, anyway) obfuscate as much as they clarify. (03/10/2011)

Going to the dojo three times a week is about my maximum. At other times, I practice various little things in various little ways, but I don’t follow a consistent training schedule. Focus is strange. I think it’s like training sparring: sure, my skills (gradually) improve--but whenever I make progress, my teachers simply shift into a higher gear. The result is that the discrepancy between where I am and what I’m trying to learn never gets any smaller (a frustration which is by no means unique to me). Therefore I can’t measure my own progress. I have to rely on other people to give me a realistic picture of where I am. Well, focus is like that--or so it seems to me. The “stronger” my focus becomes, the greater the obstacles to focusing become. (Obstacles in my life; in my story; in my emotions; whatever.) So I *believe* that studying karate helps me focus, but I have no objective yardstick for the change (if any). (03/16/2011)

“Incongruity” I’ll concede. I suppose every story contains miscalculations. Mine certainly do. My justification for names like “Satansfist” (and “Kevin”) is that they arise from Covenant’s mind. But being able to justify those names doesn’t make them *good*--i.e. effective, apt, evocative, or simply not jarring. If I were writing my older books today, I might make some different decisions. (03/16/2011)

It was a long time ago now. But the men who hoped back then to make one or more “Covenant” movies were True Fans, and they wanted to make no substantive changes. In practice, that meant making as few changes as they could get away with. However, they never discussed with me what those changes might be. The whole project never got that far. (03/16/2011)

(Silly wabbit. I’ll already be dead.) I submitted *only* LFB. I didn’t want to horrify an editor with three long manuscripts from an unknown author. But of course it would have been foolish to pretend that LFB could truly “stand alone,” so in general I acknowledged that I did have two more books. As I recall, I did not include plot synopses (which I hated writing even in those days), but I did offer to submit more text if the editor wanted to see it. (03/17/2011)

First I have to say that “hate”--like “love”--means different things in different contexts. Personally I don’t see the connection between the exhaustion and despair that I feel when I try to teach writing and the virulent rage that readers feel when they tell me they hate my books. Although I make plenty of mistakes, I have never tried to destroy a student. Quite a number of readers have tried hard to destroy me. (You may think I’m exaggerating, but you should perhaps consider trusting me on this point. You really don’t want to read some of the messages I delete from the Gradual Interview--or the letters that arrive with no return address, or the diatribes handed to me anonymously when I’m “in public.”) So what do I get out of my (variable) dedication to the Gradual Interview? Quite a few things--although none of them have anything to do “with how [I] have progressed as a writer” (why not? because the GI is inherently retrospective: it involves looking at what I have already done rather than at what I am doing; therefore its capacity to educate me is oblique at best). Honesty requires me to mention that “good PR” is one benefit. (Well, I *hope* it’s good PR.) Another is validation: writing is a lonely business, and the stories I choose to tell are often draining; the GI reminds me that I’m not as alone as I feel. Another is, well, let’s call it “cross-training”: exercising different intellectual muscles. (Which, of course, does contribute to my progress as a writer, despite my protestations to the contrary.) Yet another might be called a reality-check: it helps me determine the relationship (if any) between what I tried to communicate and what I actually communicated. (Which certainly--I’m being polite here--*encourages* progress as a writer. <sigh>) However, none of this feels like “teaching” to me. (03/17/2011)

As matters stand, there is *no* chance of a uniform “Covenant” edition (even an ugly one). Different publishers are involved, and they simply don’t cooperate--never mind coordinate--with each other. But “as matters stand” is not mere rhetorical noise. In the UK, for example, my current publisher (Orion/Gollancz) is making a concerted (and possibly even strenuous) effort to buy the rights to Covenant 1-6 from my former publisher (once Fontana, later HarperCollins). Success is conceivable, if only because Orion/Gollancz has something HarperCollins wants (or so I’m told). That would make possible a uniform edition--in the UK. In the US, alas, something similar seems far less likely. Why? Because Ballantine owns all the rights (including foreign rights). Publication in places like the UK gives Ballantine a stream of revenue which requires zero effort or investment. Why would Ballantine surrender that merely to let Putnams/Ace make more money? I wish things were different. (03/17/2011)

Recent events have taught me a new appreciation for the sheer *convenience* of ereaders. Perhaps that’s crucial? Perhaps the impracticality of physical books has played a larger role in the general deline of reading than I ever suspected? I don’t know. But I do know that ereaders appear to be booming--and not just among younger, tech-savvy readers. Maybe that means something. (03/17/2011)

I'm only speculating here. But off the top of my head, I can think of three possible explanations. 1) The "reality" of the Land--at least as it's presented in the first Covenant trilogy--is more attractive than the GAP "reality." At least initially, the Land is a place where people might want to spend time--perhaps because the Land feels magical. 2) The characters surrounding the protagonists in TCOTC are (a lot) more likable (also simpler) than virtually everyone in the GAP books. 3) It's conceivable that readers respond more easily to the more "archetypal" nature of the story in Covenant than they do to the more, well, human-scaled issues in the GAP books. But really your guess is as good as mine. (03/22/2011)

God willing, I won't have to give up writing. I certainly intend to keep it up as long as I can. (03/22/2011)

1) Mainly I think of this as a question of practicality. How far would horses get through the Southron Range--in winter--before they had to turn back? Assuming that they love the Plains of Ra and don't want to leave? And considering that the Lords or the Bloodguard might summon them (and probably did during the years between TIW and TPTP)? (Of course, it's also possible that the misuse of the Staff of Law affects the abilities of the Ranyhyn. Or perhaps they're just that loyal.) 2) Maybe the jheherrin picked up quite a bit from their proximity to Lord Foul and power? Maybe their lineage is really ancient, and they learned "common-speech" more recently? This is all speculation, since we're outside the text. (03/22/2011)

As far as I know, Scott Brick has no plans to tackle the Second Chronicles. I have the impression that he can't afford to. He has to spend his own money, and the sales of the first trilogy don't justify the expense. (03/22/2011)

In this case, books which appear to be from the same edition are actually from separate publishers. The larger ones are from Holt. The smaller ones were published by the US Science Fiction Book Club using a reduced size of the Holt package and text. (Naturally the SFBC purchased the right to do this from Holt.) That's standard practice for the SFBC. (03/22/2011)

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I didn't really get tired of competitive bridge. I got tired of competitive bridge players. That obsession with winning brings out the worst in a lot of people. I still love the game, but I no longer play in the ACBL. I was a Life Master (which doesn't mean much) on the border of the next level; but I've forgotten what the next level is called. (03/22/2011)

I know a few online game players--including "World of Warcraft"--but that isn't something we talk about. I have no real interest in playing such games myself: for me, they're too much like work. But I think it's obvious that there are plenty of people in the world who Just Like Killing Things. Makes them feel "powerful" in one way or another, I suppose. (I'm just guessing, of course.) And I have no doubt that those people would defend their actions, strenuously if necessary (of perhaps even when it isn't necessary). Which fits your point rather neatly, I think. If reality is what we make it (which is what the argument comes down to in the end), then the conclusion is inescapable: what we make of reality makes *us*. ("It's OK to kill these virtual animals--or these real animals--or these real people--because I want to do it and I choose to believe it's OK." Clearly that reasoning says more about the reasoner than it does about, well, whatever.) Indeed, I suspect that we don't make anything *except* ourselves--since (as far as I can tell) reality doesn't care what we do. Just my opinion. (03/24/2011)

Hmm. I hardly know what to say. Your reaction is so far removed from mine, I can hardly believe we're talking about the same book. My knee-jerk response is, If joy is in the ears that hear, where's *your* joy? *I* haven't lost any of my love for the Land and its inhabitants. But there's a valid point here, although I think about it differently than you do. One of the over-all themes of "Covenant" is: evil does real damage. Sounds simplistic when I say it that way, I know; but it can't be said too often (certainly not in *our* reality <sigh>). "Sic transit gloria munde." (I hope I spelled that right.) "Thus passes the glory of the world." Things become less. Entropy is one reason, of course. But a more immediate reason, I think, is: evil. (Well, evil, and the things evil feeds on: ignorance, greed, fanaticism, etc..) Certainly the world of the Land is breaking down because Lord Foul wishes it so. In any case, no one needs love more than a person--or a world--that's dying. (03/24/2011)