When I am working on a book or a story I write every morning as soon after first light as possible. There is no one to disturb you and it is cool or cold and you come to your work and warm as you write. You read what you have written and, as you always stop when you know what is going to happen next, you go on from there. You write until you come to a place where you still have your juice and know what will happen next and you stop and try to live through until the next day when you hit it again. You have started at six in the morning, say, and may go on until noon or be through before that. When you stop you are as empty, and at the same time never empty but filling, as when you have made love to someone you love. Nothing can hurt you, nothing can happen, nothing means anything until the next day when you do it again. It is the wait until the next day that is hard to get through.

What are you going to do to me?”“Tonight, I am going to seduce you. Next time, I am going to fuck you.”He smiles at me and pushes his back to the sofa leaving me sitting on top of him.“And why’s that?” I ask, a little bit surprised and shocked at the same time.“I’m the one who makes the rules so you have to do what you’re told.