'We begin in fantasy. Daydreams are luscious zones of time that we dwell within for weeks, months and years. Somewhere within these spaces the idea emerges, of a life we might live. It takes a grip of our souls like fate cast down from angels—or it takes a grip on our minds like a mental illness. Curse or blessing, we have chosen to turn those daydreams of being writers into reality. Years go by and we make our way towards that glittering city of prophecy, where word and thought and beauty are held up as worthy principles of life. Those approaching this Shangri La now might feel they’ve arrived just as the city of those earliest fantasies is rapidly disintegrating. Bookstores are closing down everywhere we look and publishers are steadily losing profit—for years on end. Print media has become a swampland as the waters of electronic media and that vast e-ocean rises. I suppose that Shangri La never existed but I’m wondering how you imagined the literary life in those early daydreams Angela, and whether you’re happy with the world you’ve entered with the drafts of your first novel.' (Introduction)
