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It was at a vividly bad time in Norman Mailer's life that I met him, and a sort of water-treading time in mine. He had stabbed his wife, and I was a copy boy at Time magazine.

I was hit by a car when I was 13, and the rumour was immediately that I had been playing chicken with the car with my best friend Kenny in front of the Nutmeg Pantry, which was the only shop in Sharon. In fact, the guy who hit me was inebriated.

The last time I spoke with Robert was back in May. When his wife was murdered, I talked to several radio stations in defense of him because I know how Bobby Blake really is, and as far as I'm concerned, there's no murder in his heart.

When I first met Robert Patrick, I died - he is so scary looking - he is a scary looking man.

I was a high school senior and home alone one night with my younger brother. And a guy - gunman - kicked in our front door at our home in New Jersey and held the two of us captive. We escaped. He caught us again. We escaped again. So, a pretty horrific experience.

I was in prison for a charge in Texas, murder one. Back in the '70s in Texas, I was there. I heard the shot. I was in the car.

I was 22 when JFK was murdered, and I will never recover from it... Never.

I met my husband while I was making a movie.