“What’s the Iron Eagle?” The old man looked at the bum asking the question with disdain. “The Iron Eagle isn’t a thing, it’s a person – if you can call him that. He’s one of the sickest serial killers I’ve ever come across in all my years in this business.” The bum was sitting next […]
I was brought up in a tradition of reading and thinking at university that, in a sense, left the body out. It was all about your mind. That good writing didn’t have a “self” in it, didn’t have an ego in it. Oh my God, I had so much to unlearn when I became a writer!