Well, even though Pegasus considered forming a relationship but after a lengthy review declined to do so, it was a wonderful sensation. Not because I need them to keep writing. As I breathe, I write. So that wasn’t the high. It was the mythology and the name behind the publisher. It was knowing my humor is better aligned with British sensibilities, which makes sense, since my passion was English Literature. I was wired that way, I guess. It was London, I suppose. Or Byron. Or Keats and Austen. Shelley, both of them, Beowulf and Lancelot. Guinevere and King Arthur. It was The Moors in Bronte. It was Sir Gawain And The Green Knight. Lots of Green. Pope and The Father of English Satire, shit – what the fuck – omg – Pope confuses me so.