I have rewritten — often several times — every word I have ever published. My pencils outlast their erasers.
Canada is the place where maple syrup is its own food group.
Almost every single thing you hope publication will do for you is a fantasy, a hologram--it's the eagle on your credit card that only seems to soar.
Indie publishing lets me feed my inner control freak.
Some writers aren't writers, they are mere escapees' and refugees' on an exile from the jungle of thoughts.
Apparently, my hopes, dreams and aspirations were no match against my poor spelling, punctuation and grammar.
An author who gives a manager or publisher any rights in his work except those immediately and specifically required for its publication or performance is for business purposes an imbecile.
Readership is highly dependent upon format and distribution as much as it is on content.
Who is better off? The one who writes to revel in the voluptuousness of the life that surrounds them? Or the one who writes to escape the tediousness of that which awaits them outside? Whose flame wil...
If the novel is dead, I'm a necrophiliac.
Teams that spend a lot of time learning the tricks of the trade will probably never really learn the trade.