The countryside shaped me. As a person and as a writer. But I don't think I realized how much until I moved back to the country after twenty years in suburbia.
Cold in the Light was all about the woods, which is where I played throughout much of my childhood. And I've come to realize that
most of my best writing has involved the woods in some way or another. I'm an alien in the city; I don't belong. In my more melodramatic moments, I might say that--for a while--I had a brief flirtation with civilization, but the newness has worn off and it's easy to see now the tarnish behind the glitter. Now I'm back where I belong, wrapped in an old world that is new all over. Maybe you
can go home again.
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