Sometimes when I begin writing I feel a bit as if I’ve approached the edge of a cliff, and the waters into which I’m about to jump look deathly far below me.
Read MoreI have a curious nose in my own way, but I can get pretty irritated when someone interrupts my sniffing around.
Read MoreIt’s as if we live in our imaginations, dreaming our world as we go.
Read MoreThe thing, after all, I like about people, is that they aren’t me.
Read MoreWriting has taught me that rejection, in an odd way, is a form of agreement between both parties.
Read MoreThere’s a kind of romance to believing in a book for year after year, but that’s a lot of time to doubt and despair.
Read MoreI’ve always felt that the very act of writing is a kind of answer.
Read MoreTime only measures the changing conditions of the world, the seasons and the night and the day.
Read MoreI’ve felt sometimes as if I’d lived my whole life waiting for the time to come when my days would be mine and mine alone.
Read MoreSometimes I wondered if I had ever let myself write a story without the limitations I had placed on myself in social settings.
Read MoreKnowing how to tell your story is the very opposite of arrogance.
Read MoreLike any good magician, I must make the unreal seem real
Read MoreIt’s rare that my stories resolve with a happy event.
Read MoreThe real discipline necessary for this work is choosing not to think the kind of thoughts that are incompatible with creativity.
Read MoreIf I want to get along with these people, I have to give up most of my notions of right and wrong. It interferes with relationships.
Read MoreThere’s great in relief showing my struggles and grief when I know how things will really turn out.
Read MoreHow scary stillness seems if you believe you have lost the means of propulsion.
Read MoreAll discouragement and despair are an expression of erroneous fortunetelling.
Read MoreThe choice to start again will always be available, just the as fearful questions will be waiting to challenge you again.
Read MoreThat’s the beauty of stories. Once we’re finished telling them, they belong to the reader.
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