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That brings me to Becky. Becky was not even a gleam in my eye when I started this story, which means the ending has totally changed by the time I get to it. She's a random person who delivers a pizza towards the end of the book. Becky wouldn't leave me alone. 'Please tell more about me,' she said. So pizza delivery girl, how old are you? What's your background? What kind of person are you? Why are you begging for your story to be told? How do you fit in with all the other characters? I have my ending and it's different from how it began.

Of all the characters in all the stories I've written, Sam of WBDP and TOS is probably most like me. Not me, but most like me. This doesn't mean I've done any of the things Sam has, though there was a diet plan, conceived by my wife. There are pieces of me in all the characters, for in order to imagine them, I have to know them. And the only way to know them is know myself. I'm a complex person. Because I might think something at one point in time, doesn't mean I've done anything in any point of time, nor that I would still think the same thing now as I did forty years ago. But I probably thought about it once upon a time. I think that's why some of the characters beg to be written, because it was a thought I had, once upon a time, which needs to be brought to some conclusion. Just like a wife reading sexy slavery novels. If you're one of the people who read all one million plus words; congratulations or I'm sorry. Congratulations on your dogged determination or I'm sorry you have nothing better to do with your life than read my musings. Take care and God bless.

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