The merit of my work is up to my reader, and whether you live more intensely because of it, as Elizabeth Drew said, is a good measure of it.
I write because it is guaranteed to keep me in the moment as words splash down on the page. It also provides me with preposterous notions of immortality. It can be awful drudgery or sheer pleasure to place a written word on a page. It is the hardest work I have ever done, including thinning sugar beets.
I blame errors on Roy Hobbs, my preefrooder. If you find something in my work you don’t like, be it a literary effort or a typo, please lay it off on him. He is not perfect.
I love western America.
I love the conflicts of Mormonism.
I love a good river with trout in it.
I am fascinated by World War II history, especially aviation history.
I love my literary agent and the editors who make me and Roy look good.
I’m happily surprised at how well my children turned out.