Interview with T.M. Wright
By JG Faherty

T.M. Wright has been delivering classic, exciting, and often existential, character-centered horror for nearly thirty years, and shows no signs of letting up. He's written what many people feel is one of the most innovative ghost stories of our time, A Manhattan Ghost Story, and his long and short fiction has appeared in several 'best of' lists and anthologies. He's garnered high praise for his more than 30 novels and novellas (and numerous short stories), and is considered a master of 'quiet horror'. When he's not writing, he manages to find time to paint (he's done book covers and magazine illustrations) and spend quality time with his wife, Roxane, as well as their three dogs and a cat named Nilsson.

First, I want to say thank you for chatting with us today. Welcome to FearZone. To begin, let's start with something simple: When did you first know you wanted to be a writer?

I'm not sure I ever "wanted" to become a writer. I think that, from the age of 12 or so, I knew I was a writer. I'd flirted with the idea of becoming a lawyer, and even of becoming a priest (What a hoot!), but I was drawn to writing as if it were a part of my genetics. Perhaps it was (check my family tree; I'm sure it's posted somewhere).


And how did you start writing horror/dark fiction? Did you naturally gravitate towards that, or was it something that developed over time? .

I was drawn to writing, of all kinds, from that magical mid-pubescent age mentioned above. I've speculated on the reasons in other interviews, and also to more than several therapists who've come and gone from my life in the past twenty years. My first novel (thankfully unpublished [and I believe that's a much-used phrase by most writers] ) was a forty-five-thousand-word thing I called The Crows--although, as I recall, there were no crows at all in it--and it was one of those dreary "the author finds himself" novels that most writers write when they've never written a novel before, not "dark fantasy" or "horror." I'd written a few horror short stories, decades earlier (at that magical age mentioned above); in fact, my first short story was about a clothes tree that came to life at night. But I also wrote lots of science fiction stories, and lots of searingly adolescent poetry. I didn't come to "dark fantasy" (an acceptable phrase, I think, though lots of people would disagree) until I decided it was actually time to sell my first novel (then unwritten), so I asked myself, "What's really never been done before?" and that's when Strange Seed(my first published novel, 1978) started its gestation, as a longish introductory letter--with embedded synopsis--to various publishers. I got two very positive replies almost at once--from ACE Books and Doubleday. It was then that I realized I had to actually write the novel, and that it was necessary that I enjoy writing it, too.


In doing my research for this interview, I noticed that there isn't a lot of information about you on the web - other than your own website (www.tmwrightonline.net), most of what I found was book lists, re-workings of the information on your site, and chat board postings. In a time when most writers are seemingly spending as much time on self-promotion as writing, this struck me as unusual. Do you limit your interviews? .

Actually, JG, there's quite a bit of info about me and my work on the Net--including many good-to-excellent reviews and not quite so many bad-to-insultingly bad reviews (the title of one strikes me as I type: it's a review of my novel, The Last Vampire, and its titled "What's Bloodless but still Bites?" Great title for a lousy review (though TLV got lots of very good reviews, too). And you'll also find other interviews I've done (about 30 in the past almost-40 years), at least you'll find references to them (for instance my 2002 Cemetery Dance interview, done by the brilliant William Simmons, a 1991 interview at for 2:00 AM magazine, done by Douglas A. Anderson, who writes what he has called "biographies of unknown writers," one I did for an online literary magazine, Critique II, back in 2001, and one I did not too long ago for Dark Discoveries Magazine. My very first interview was conducted by a reporter for the Rochester, NY, Times Union, in November, 1968, shortly after the release of my first book, The Intelligent Man's Guide to Flying Saucers (did I "believe" in "flying saucers" then? Sure. Do I now? No.), published by Everest House, NJ. I've never shied away from interviews, but sometimes I simply find the task of answering tough questions....well, tough. We writers believe it's vitally important that we come across as erudite, well-read, droll, full of pith and wit, and intoxicated all at the same time, when, often, one-out-of-five is all we can manage (a clue to chasing down the meaning of that remark--I don't drink and never have).


You've said in the past that your influences in the genre tend more towards 'quiet' writers, writers who hint at the horror and grotesque rather than smack you over the head with it. Some examples included Bradbury, Asimov, Shirley Jackson, and Harlan Ellison. Do you think that horror/dark fiction (hereafter H/DF) has evolved over the years into nothing more than the literary equivalent of a slasher movie? .

Don't share this with anyone, J.G., but, nowadays, I'm very, very picky about my reading material. If I'm going to read a horror novel (or even a short story), it's got be by someone whose writing is in my estimation first-rate--people like Tom Piccirilli, Gary Braunbeck and the above-named William Simmons, for instance (the list, of course, is much longer than that, but we all have other things to do, I think). But, usually, I settle for other than horror--poetry and "literary" fiction, you know, the character-centered, "boring" stuff that people like the late and very much lamented Weldon Kees wrote. I have nothing whatsoever against "slasher" literature (or movies): I've read and seen my share (though much more the latter than the former), and there's a place for the exquisite gross-out, the appealing agony of innocent victims, and the drooling sneers of mindless (though not clueless) fiends, but--and I'm off on another tangent here, so step aside--if I'm going to take the time to read something other than stuff I've written, it has to sneak into me through all my willing and unwilling orifices and, hell, at least make a stab at making me think. Of course, that's a tall order for any piece of literature to fill--make us actually think. Because most fiction is for entertainment purposes only (and it's too bad "thinking" isn't looked upon as entertainment by more people).

So, yes (or is it "no"?--I've lost track), I'm not terribly well-read, anymore, in the field of horror. Probably because there's so much to read. Or is that a dodge? Okay, it's a dodge. Too often, at the bookstore, or online (if I'm reading an excerpt), I'll open a new horror novel and will be hit, in the first one or two paragraphs, with the rape and murder of a young woman. Do I find this titillating? No. Do I find it a turn-off? Yes. Still, there are writers who can write about such things (or be in the same universe) without sounding as if they're being masturbatory--Tom Pic, mentioned above, for instance--but, hell, there are lots of books (horror and otherwise) to read. I can pick and choose, and I do.

Sorry if that sounds stuffy.


You say on your website that all your novels are 'attempts to spit in the face of death.' By nature of the subject matter, all works of horror, and thus horror writers, deal with death on a regular basis. Do you look at your fiction as a way of beating death, of living on forever, or is it a reaction to the fact of death, a desire to explain or understand something that we can't actually understand? .

I doubt that horror writers, or most writers, for that matter, actually "deal with death on a regular basis," unless they're pathologists, morgue attendants, soldiers in Iraq, or EMTs. What we writers "deal with," I think, is our ideas about death, and what comes after, what comes before, what comes during, and, of course, all three time-frames rolled up into one very surreal ball of shit and ice cream.
We know nothing about what comes after death (in my opinion). We can see what happens to a body after it dies: we can see the decay, be aware of the putrefaction. But that's not death. That's merely what's happening to a body that's ceased being alive. "Death" is a stopping point. UP to that point, you're alive. After that point, you're not alive. "Being dead," to my way of thinking, implies a sort of "state of existence." "Oh, he's dead!" is easy to say, but it implies that "he" (the dead person) still has existence, and I'd hazard a guess that "he" doesn't. "He" is either somewhere else (heaven or hell or limbo or any of a billion places--take your pick), or nowhere at all, except in the memories of his friends, his enemies, his relatives, et cetera, et cetera.
All this is simply to say that I don't write about "what come after" because I'm trying to define "what comes after," but because I have great fun playing with the (very vague) possibilities.. "Spitting in the face of death" is simply a phrase I latched onto without thinking much about it. If anything, what I'm doing in my ghost stories, and my stories about what might be happening on "the other side," is running away from death, running away from that stopping point.

Speaking of which, you're best known for your ghost stories - A Manhattan Ghost Story, Goodlow's Ghosts, Cold House, and The House on Orchid Street among them - but you also write what's often described as 'odd' or 'weird' stories, most notably The Eyes of the Carp. Stories that show a little more of your humorous side. Where do those oddities come from, and where do they fit in with your other works? .

I prefer the word "surreal" over "odd" or "weird." Actually, I've written three equally "surreal" (read as "odd" or "weird") novellas--The Eyes of the Carp, Cemetery Dance, 2005, A Spider on My Tongue, Nyx Books, 2006, and I am the Bird, PS Publications, 2006. These are a step away, or up from, my other novels (though I'd argue that Cold House was the beginning of this "step away." It was published by Catalyst Press in 2003, and its approach was much more experimental than I'd been used to: it was built around a very quirky first-person narrator, seemed to have little in the way of plot (though there was a plot, sort of), jumped about willy nilly in time, and space, and I'm sure that, although it got a very good reception from critics, many readers were completely baffled by it, as they probably were by Carp, A Spider on my Tongue, and I am the Bird, which are constructed in not-dissimilar ways to Cold House. Carp is about a serial killer who lies to everyone, including himself and his readers, Bird is about a man who may be two men, both of whom live in a hot, dark apartment with a talkative and highly intelligent African Gray parrot. that may or may not exist (as a parrot), and Spider is a continuation, twenty years later, of the love story begun with A Manhattan Ghost Story, and continued with The Waiting Room (both from TOR Books, 1984 and 1986, respectively). About the humor: yes, there's humor in each of these novellas and novels--humor of a wise-cracking sort, humor of an ironic and droll sort, humor that is almost never slapstick. Actually I think I discovered humor--as part of the narrative line of my novels--with A Manhattan Ghost Story: some of my novels even contain jokes of my own making. I'll tell them to you if you give me a ring.--just dial Beechwood 45-789.


(Laughs) You consider yourself a perfectionist when it comes to editing, rewriting, and choosing the right word or sentence. But you've also said that perfection is impossible when writing fiction. How do you know when enough is enough, that it's time to stop editing and just send the damn thing to the publisher? .

When the wolf is at the door. When the milk has turned to cheese. When, because of so much editing and re-editing, you've memorized your damned novel word for word, making another actual re-read and edit useless. No novel is perfect. Maybe no sentence is perfect. I know that no word is perfect. How could it be? What word has no more than one possible meaning, or a meaning without the help of other words?

The most we can hope for when we write anything is dazzling imperfection. The least we can hope for is accolades from one or two people who don't know us. Spending all afternoon on "the right word" is probably foolish (though I've done it many times), but then again, it may not be. There may be people out there who'll read that nearly-perfect sentence (or paragraph), with its "right word," and they'll nod and smile and say to themselves, "Hey, that's not too bad." Should we hope for more? Sure? Should we expect more? Sure. Especially if we're talented. Or lucky. Or both.


With all the changes going on in our genre today - the shrinking of the big markets, the shifting tides of small press markets, the increasing tendency in film towards hack-em-up torture movies and their endless sequels, where do you see the future of H/DF writing going, as an industry? What problems do you foresee? Or, conversely, do you think the industry is blossoming again, as it did in the 80s? .

I can't say that it's "blossoming" because I don't know the field all that well. But I can say, that "shifting tides" are, by nature, cyclical, and apply to more than simply the horror genre. There are, thankfully, many kinds of horror being published today--from existential, character-centered horror to celebrations of classic horror themes, to the Laymon/Ketchum/Lee/Smith sort of over-the-top horror, and all the permutations in between. It's a wide open genre, and I don't really see that any one "kind" of horror--quiet, noisy, sloppy, gory, dopey, et cetera--is winning an imaginary battle for readers, many of whom, of course, read all kinds of horror (and read other than horror, as well).


You once said that horror readers in general tend to want plot, not philosophy, and that your books are admittedly heavier on philosophy and characterization than plot. This brings to mind the endless arguments I see on the chat boards of 'literature' vs. writing. That a piece of horror fiction cannot be both an entertaining read and literature. Yet I've felt that there are several works of horror that I would also considerer great literature - ranging from Stoker's Dracula and Shelley's Frankenstein to the works of Jackson and Bradbury, and on to some of the novels by King, Straub, and Ketchum. Most recently, Sarah Langan's The Keeper falls into this category, for me. How do you feel about this dichotomy?

Everybody's got their own definition of "horror" and of "literature," and I'm sure lots of readers see the phrase "horror literature" as oxymoronic. One or two of the people you mention up there (I won't name them) have not consistently (or ever) produced what I think of as "literature." They've produced great stories, yes, because that's what they are--story tellers. And, in my book (laugh), story telling is just as important as the writing of "true literature" (whatever that might be: your tastes may vary--I like espresso, you may prefer decaf tea).


A lot of your books have endings that 'leave the reader hanging,' as you call it. Is this a conscious choice on your part, or just the way the stories evolve in your mind as you write? Do you see this as a turn-off for some readers?

Well, look at the final words of A Manhattan Ghost Story: "Stick around. I'll let you know." And the final words of Cold House: "In a minute, it will be another time." And even my first novel, Strange Seed: "In time, there will be no more bones. And winter is upon them." And The Eyes of the Carp: "Open the door! Please, please, please! Open the door!" What am I getting at? I'm getting at this: I don't dis believe in "happy endings," or "sad endings," or "fulfilling endings," I disbelieve in "endings." I think things (read as relationships of all kinds between entities of all kinds) continue beyond the stories I write: so I very rarely "tie things up." Does this turn off some readers? Of course it does. (I remember some Amazon.com customer "reviewer" [snort, snort] titling his review of my novel, The House On Orchid Street, "What happened?" because, of course, the book, like most, if not all, of my books, did not tie everything up. Some writers come, slam, bang, to a full stop at the end of their novels, and that's great. I like such novels, as do most readers. But I like even more the novels (and movies) that don't do that, that don't bring the relationships explored to a "happy ending" or a "sad ending" or simply end them with a Thud! ...full stop. Because, and this is important to me (though it may not be important to all readers and all writers, and I accept that completely: I write, primarily, for myself, for my tastes, my likes and dislikes) life, as it is being lived, very rarely, if ever, comes to a full, thudding stop (except, of course, when Death grinds to a halt at the curb and says, "Get in!").


In addition to novels, you've also written novellas, short stories, and poetry. Which medium do you enjoy working in the most, and why?

The short answer is--whatever medium I'm most comfortable with at the moment, whatever medium seems to encompass what, that day, or week, or month, is on my mind, begging for "expression." There are subjects, ideas, stories that are best handled in one of those four mediums you've mentioned above; some subjects, ideas, stories can fit into a novel AND/OR a novella, or long poem or short story. I think my least-favorite medium is the short story because it's so damned hard to fit good characterizations into a "short" story, so my stories often end up in the 10,000-15,000 word range.


Let's talk poetry for a moment. In the world of H/DF, poetry tends to get overlooked; do you think dark poetry is harder to get across to readers?

Actually, I don't write "dark poetry," though I've read much of it. I think that poetry, in general, gets overlooked in the field of "horror" because most horror readers simply don't like it, for whatever reason. Hell, most people (horror readers or not) don't like poetry: it requires "interpretation," they believe, or it's too "self-centered," or it's too "intellectual" (a complaint which horror readers, I've noticed, do not often make, by the way), or they simply don't "trust" it: for lots of people, poetry seems to be written in a secret language, one that seems and needs, very pointedly, to set the "poet" aside from the rest of humanity. And while this is true of bad poets, all "good" (read as "accessible") poets make no bones about their gritty humanness: read Charles Bukowski, for instance, or even Mary Oliver (very different sorts of poets): they both dig deep into what concerns us all--being alive, and what it's all about, sexuality, what may or may not come "after" life, being "human" and, therefore, very imperfect,;; the processes involved in being alive. Good poets do not set themselves apart from the rest of humanity, they celebrate their humanness, gritty and dirty and selfish and noble as it can be.

I don't write "dark poetry," by the way, because I find it very difficult to write about "being human" when it's necessary to bring ghosts and vampires and werewolves, et cetera, into the mix. Poetry, for me (and I can speak only for myself) involves the art of celebrating our gritty humanness and our humanity in words: sometimes these words are broken up into short lines, sometimes rhymes are involved, sometimes not: but the end-purpose of poetry is, I think, to approach being human in a way that's new or at least interesting, and in phrases that have impact and rhythm (of whatever kind--the rhythm of rhyme, or the rhythm of the intellect sorting out what questions regarding life are most intriguing, or a rhythm that actually eschews intellect in favor of simply seeing)


A lot of e-zines have popped up over the past few years, ranging from professional to downright worse than amateurish. Do you do read a lot of material online, or do you prefer holding a book in your hands?

I read very little material online: my eyes simply can't deal with it. I very much prefer settling into a comfortable chair and reading an actual book to staring for a couple of hours at a computer monitor. You're right--there has been an explosion of H/DF ezines in the past few years, and that explosion will doubtless continue. Many of these ezines are worthwhile (let me mention, for instance, my niece's magazine--"Tales from the Moonlit Path; go to http://www.moonlit-path.com/) and many of them are simply a way for wannabe writers to find a toehold, as they see it, in the world of publishing, by seeing their story about vegetarian werewolves published in Joe's Horror Outhouse (or whatever). I wish it were that simple.


Do you think we'll see a radical shift in the future from hardcopy reading to online? And if so, what does that mean for the writers? Will e-zines have to change their business model, and follow in the footsteps of Amazon Shorts?

I'm not terribly familiar with "Amazon Shorts," I'm afraid, so I can't comment on that end of the online H/DF magazine biz, but I think lots of readers agree with me that staring at a computer monitor for a couple of hours doesn't possess the same...comfort level as settling into a comfy chair with a book, so, no, I don't think there will be a radical shift from hardcopy reading to online reading. And besides, I think lots of readers may actually do both--read stories online and in hardcopy. Do I have figures to back up this idea? Hell no. I'm winging it, with hope. I remember, in my early adolescence, holding books in my hands (books by H. G. Wells, Jules Verne, Walt Whitman, T.S. Eliot, et cetera) and thinking what wonderful things they were--small things that held great ideas, stories, images, lines. Things you put on a shelf and went back to every now and then to revisit the stories, characters and ideas that you visited not too long before. For me, computer monitors, wonderful though they are, don't possess the magic of real books.


For the record, I agree with that! Now, when it comes to a new idea for a story, where does it spring from? Are you more of an 'aha!' person, where the idea emerges fully-formed from the unconscious, or do you draw from news events, research, and other external stimuli?

I usually wing it. An image, a line of dialogue, even just a title will come to me and I'll start writing and, often (though not always) a story will emerge some two or three-hundred pages later. It's the same way with novellas, and short stories, though the page-ranges are different, of course. Poems, too. I believe in the muse, though I don't think she's a supernatural entity intent on making my literary life easier (if she is, then she's failed miserably). I'm not sure what the muse is, but I believe in it--perhaps because I need something to excuse or justify the terribly anarchic way I approach the writing of anything. Several times, I've signed multiple-book contracts that list titles only, no synopses, no basic idea, just titles. And every time I've signed such contracts, I had no idea at all what I'd be writing. I hope no one else writes that way. It's put me in a literary corner more than once.


In addition to writing, you also paint. Does your style and subject matter mirror your interests as a writer, or do you go the opposite route? How often do you paint?

In an odd way, what interests me most about painting (and drawing) are primarily the same things that interest me as a writer--people, their personalities, as expressed in their faces, their moods. I've done I don't know how many portraits (in pencil, oils, and acrylics) of my wife, Roxane, because her face is so full of character, intelligence, humor and sexuality, and I've been trying, for almost five years now (to varying degrees of success) to capture all of that character, intelligence, humor, and sexuality on canvas, or in a drawing. I've also done portraits, in oils, acrylics and pencil, of my children, too (my son Dorian appears, in black and white, on the cover of The Eyes of the Carp; my wife appears on the Italian edition of Cold House, which appeared in June, 2007; she will also appear on the cover of my short novel, Blue Canoe, being published in early 2008 by PS Publications), and my grandchildren. I also like to paint or draw animals--dogs, usually--and houses, because they have character, too, as faces do. We use very different sorts of mental muscles when we paint than when we write, I think. Painting, no matter how good you are at it, or how bad, is, for me, wonderful rest from the numbing intellectual intensity of writing a short story or a novel or poem. I don't know why, really, but it seems to refresh the brain and the spirit after I've spent a couple of weeks or months involved only with words and phrases and (usually dark) mental images.


You've got a new collection, Bone Soup, that includes a novel, short stories, poetry and art, coming from Cemetery Dance. Do you know when that will be released? And what else can we expect from you in 2008?

Bone Soup, is my first collection of any kind, other than a couple of poetry chapbooks published early in this century. CD contracted for Bone Soup late in 2003 and, if I'm lucky, it will at last appear--after many revisions and deletions--some time next year, though CD says it's "at the printer." I understand, of course, the delay in releasing the collection: the cover layout and art's been done (by me; the art, that is), and the book has been set up in type, but I have yet to receive a definite pub date. Roxane, my wife, calls the book my "literary footprint," and I think I'd agree. It encompasses twenty years of writing, and art, though the vast majority of the pieces in the collection were done or written after 2002.

Blue Canoe, the short novel I mentioned above, will be appearing in the spring from PS Publications. I tell everyone it's my "best" novel, and I think it is, but maybe that's simply wishful thinking because it's my latest novel. (My mother is fond of telling me, "Terry, I still think Strange Seed is your best novel."..."Uh, thanks, Mom," I tell her, without mentioning that, after publishing thirty novels, a writer doesn't like to hear that his first was his best. Hell, maybe it is, and I've just been fooling around with all the others. I like to think that's not true.

Also, I think it's safe to say, look for a few new things by me from Creeping Hemlock Press.


Ten Quick Questions
1. Have you ever had a real experience with the paranormal?
Nope, which is probably why I don't "believe" in it (though I don't disbelieve, either).


2. What is your favorite drink?
Espresso. I don't drink alcohol--never acquired a taste for it.


3. What are your three favorite movies?
That's a toughie; there are so many "favorites," depending on my mood.
But, well, here you go:
1. TROUBLE IN MIND (An Alan Rudolph film starring Genevieve Bujold and Kris Kristofferson: 1986: a wonderful film noir love story about a future dystopia; it also stars Devine in his only male role.
2. BLADE RUNNER
3. THE SWIMMER, Burt Lancaster, 1960 (I think): a wonderful character study.
4. Ties with Number Three--MILLER'S CROSSING, 1991.
5. Ties with number 4 above: 2001--A SPACE ODYSSEY
6. Ties with Number 5 above: THE OTHERS.

4. If you were trapped on an island, what three books would you want with you?

Another toughie:
1. The Collected Poems of Weldon Kees
2. The Collected Short Stories of Weldon Kees
3. The Time Machine, by H. G. Wells
4. Ties with number 3 above: The New Collected Poems of Mary Oliver
5. Ties with number 4 above: The Waste Land and Other Poems, by T.S. Eliot.
6. Ties with Number 5 above: Cold House, by T.M. Wright
7. Ties with Number 6 above: Blue Canoe, by T.M. Wright
8. Ties with Number 7 above: Something Happened, by Joseph Heller
9. Ties with Number 8 above: Any book of poems by Charles Bukowski
10. Ties with everything: The October Country, by Ray Bradbury
11. Ties with everything else: Breakfast of Champions, by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

5. What current writers do you enjoy reading?
Piccirilli, Braunbeck, William Simmons, and some of the writers already mentioned above who are "current."


6. If you couldn't be a writer, what would you be?
A portrait artist who works primarily in oils.


7. What's your biggest pet peeve?
So many, so many. And I guess my biggest pet peeve is dwelling, myself, on my pet peeves. Honestly. Such a waste of time. I can't do anything about the stuff that peeves me most--bad drivers, for instance, or the small and large intrusions that television channels have recently added to their repertoire--you know, the banner ads for the next show, or the a show appearing in a week, or that tell us (for some strange reason) what show we're watching. Sheesh! Get rid of all that crap! But I can't do anything about all that, and I know I can't, but I dwell on it, anyway. So un-Buddhist.


8. What would you like to write about that you've just never had the time or right frame of mind to do yet?
The incredible danger that neutron stars represent to this solar system. Honest.


9. What person, living or dead, would you most like to meet and why?
I'd like to sit down with Weldon Kees, suicidal poet from the 50's, and one of the best poets of the twentieth century, and talk with him about people and poetry, death and life and fame (which he neatly avoided), and ask him--if I could talk to his spirit--what was in his mind as he fell from that bridge.


10. If you could change something about the publishing industry, what would it be, and why?
Well, it's not as if the industry is monolithic: it's composed of many levels and opportunities. The small press, the medium press, the large press, et cetera. And I guess my biggest complaint with any of these levels, so far, is that they're so full of human beings, and human beings make so damned many mistakes. If only there were some way of replacing those human beings with...something else. Small, perfect brains with legs and fingers, for instance. But maybe not. Oh, I have it: I'd like to let all copyeditors know that they are not really as powerful and all-knowing as they believe themselves to be, that they are just as fallible and fucked up as anyone else on the planet.

11. What music do you listen to these days?
I listen, a lot, to a relative newcomer to New Age (though she doesn't like to be thought of as strictly New Age)--Karen Marie Garrett, whose compositions and musicianship are absolutely brilliant, and absolutely moving. Find her on Amazon.com and at www.kgpiano.com.



Ah, you snuck an extra one in on me! Well, I just want to say thank you again for taking the time to do this interview, and we look forward to seeing your name on the shelves for many years to come.

For more information on T.M. Wright, visit his website, www.tmwrightonline.net.