I get started at 5:30 in the morning and write till 10 A.M. Then I hike six or seven miles before going back to work.

The big thing is hydrating the day before the race. I will have 20 ounces of water right when I get up in the morning the day before, and I'll drink throughout the day.

When I got my very first phone call that I'd hit the 'New York Times' list, I had a small rush of 'I've made it!' But the next morning, it occurred to me I didn't know what it was, so I called my agent and asked what being a 'New York Times' bestselling author really meant. He informed me that I was now a thousand pound gorilla.

I lived at home and I cycled every morning to the railway station to travel by train to Johannesburg followed by a walk to the University, carrying sandwiches for my lunch and returning in the evening the same way.

Now the only thing I miss about sex is the cigarette afterward. Next to the first one in the morning, it's the best one of all. It tasted so good that even if I had been frigid I would have pretended otherwise just to be able to smoke it.

Yesterday morning I amused myself with an exercise of a talent I once possessed, but have so neglected that my performance might almost be called an experiment. I cut out a dress for one of the women.

I know a lot of people dread going to work every morning, but my work is playing pretend and doing stunts and screaming. It's a lot of fun and I get to play dress up. Every day is exciting and different and new and cool. I couldn't be more grateful.

I woke up one morning with this song in my head, and the opening line of the song is, 'My name was Richard Nixon, only now I'm a girl.'

Sometimes I miss out the morning's painting session and instead study my Japanese books in the open.

There is nothing that special to see when looking at me. I'm a painter who paints day in day out, from morning till evening - figure pictures and landscapes, more rarely portraits.