Character: View Winter

Readers are pathetic fools. They believe that every literary work is autobiographical. This statement is true, but not in the sense that they appear to be. Life experience of the author needs a good humus to be fertile ground for the works. You have to give him decompose. That's why I don't let the reporters and the biographers to delve into my past, pulling the light individual pieces and preserving them in the form of text. To write books, I need to keep intact their past as fertilizer for new ideas.

People are so accustomed to his horror, he forgets about the impact they can have on others.

Let's start from the beginning. Although the start is not always where it may seem at first glance. Our life seems to us extremely important, so we tend to think that his story should begin with our birth. At first there was nothing, then I was born... But it is not. Human life is not a thread that can be identified from a rope, flatten and put for all to see. Family life is the web. It is impossible to touch some of its threads, not forcing it to vibrate the rest. It is impossible to understand one part without understanding the meaning of the whole.

Of course to be polite it is easy - it is not necessary to have any special talents. On the other hand, politeness is the last refuge of those who have failed in everything else. Ambitious people who chose a goal and has the strength to achieve it, should not care about what people think about him around. I can't imagine that Wagner lost sleep worrying about someone's offended feelings. He was a genius, and that's it.

Do you know why my books are so successful?
- For many reasons, I suppose.
- That's it. But primarily because they have the eyeballs, development of the plot and the ending, in that sequence. Of course, all stories have exposition, development and ending, but they do not always follow each other in sequence. The correct order is all that matters. That's what readers love my books.

The rule of three... the Magic number. Three tests that must pass Prince to win the hand of Princess. Three wishes granted to the fisherman, a talking fish. Three bears in the fairy tale about Goldilocks. Three little pigs and the wolf.

All my experience, all the events of my life, people I know, all my memories and dreams, all the books I read - all the years have fallen into one compost pile and gradually rotting during, turning into a dark oily organic substance. The process of decay has made it a homogeneous substance; it is not to isolate individual components. Some people call it imagination, but I see it as a big pile of compost. From time to time I take some idea and you put it in the compost and wait. The idea feeds on dark matter, once called life takes the energy out of it and begins to rise. Takes root. Gives shoots. And so on, until one day out of an idea grows short story or novel.

People do not like eyes to blame each other of lying.

I didn't tell him the truth. How is it possible? I gave him another story. Skinny, pathetic, anemic tale without striking details and graceful turns: faded shreds, and sour cream on the live thread, with frayed, uneven edges. One of those stories that are so similar to real life. More precisely, what seems to people in real life, and it's not the same thing. Man of my warehouse, endowed with a lively imagination, it is not easy to write stories like this.

I'm only human. Like all other people, I don't remember my birth. We begin to realize itself much later, coming out of infancy when our birth seems to us to be something infinitely far away, which happened in the beginning of time. We live, as viewers who missed the beginning of the play and try in the course of action to guess about the events they missed the first act.

Birth is not the true beginning. Our life from the very first minute is not something that belongs solely to us; in fact this is just a continuation of someone's history.

Our life seems to us so important thing that we believe his story starting from the moment of birth. At first there was nothing, and Peter had me... But it is not.

... the beginning is never where we expect to find it.

Human life is not a separate thread, which you can disentangle from the tangle and neatly spread on a flat surface. The family is patterned web. It is impossible to touch one thread, without producing vibration of all the others. It is impossible to understand the particle without understanding the whole...