When You See The Way Things Deteriorate

I've Heard Writers Talk About "discovering A Voice," But For Me That Wasn't A Problem. There Were So Many Voices That I Didn't Know Where To Start.

My First Job Was With The Burns Detective Agency. They Sent Me Over To The East River To Guard Coal Barges During These God-awful Hours Like Three To Six In The Morning. It Wasn't A Very Difficult Job -- All I Had To Do Was Make A Round Every Fifteen Minutes -- But It Turned Out To Be A Great Environment For Writing. I Was Completely Alone In A Little Outhouse With An Electric Heater And A Little Desk.

The California I Knew, Old Rancho California, Is Gone. It Just Doesn't Exist, Except Maybe In Little Pockets. I Lived On The Edge Of The Mojave Desert, An Area That Used To Be Farm Country. There Were All These Fresh-produce Stands With Avocados And Date Palms. You Could Get A Dozen Artichokes For A Buck Or Something. Totally Wiped Out Now.

I Had A Definite Sense Of Somehow Being A Passenger In An Evil Vehicle Crusing Through Paradise.

I Didn't Go Out Of My Way To Get Into This Movie Stuff. I Think Of Myself As A Writer.