By the time I got home at night, my eyes were so chlorinated I saw rings around every light.

When I came home for the summer after my first year of college, I told my mother that my best friend and I were driving to California. She laughed out loud - 2,000 miles in a what? Well, my best friend had an old Chevy. What could go wrong?

In the later books I am much more at home in the use of language to describe things. I had never thought of that until a critic pointed that out.

I got a scholarship to Seattle University and I was writing arrangements for singers and everybody. But the music course was too dry and I really wanted to get away from home.

My doctor asked me if I smoked, and I said only when I'm working, golfing, or drinking. Then I realized the only time I don't smoke is when I'm home. I didn't even realize I'd become a smoker.