I write while the other half of me is not watching. It seems she finds me embarrassing. So much so that I was bound and gagged for years for fear that I might let out some of my more extreme views. She says, as well she might, that she is just trying to save us from ourselves. So imagine my surprise when I managed to complete my first novel and slip it out for publication. Has she gone soft? Have I worn her down or does she think that the world is ready for new stories?