Her words are her wings. She's flying.
One day, I decided I was going to write books forever.
You need the devotion to your work that a priest of God has for his.
Start having more confidence in yourself, and others will do the same.
I have to declare in all candor that no one interested in being published in our time can afford to be so naive as to believe that a book will make it merely because it's good.
The pen is mightier than the sword as long as it doesn't run out of ink.
People should know better than to be an ass in front of writers. We immortalize things. Lots of things. And we take liberties with character descriptions.
But perhaps people who liked to write aways made lists! Just for the fun of it.
Pain engraves a deeper memory.
A writer needs to ingest love to be passionate. Passion is a metabolite of love, and good writing is an active metabolite of passion.
I never had any doubts about my abilities. I knew I could write. I just had to figure out how to eat while doing this., New York Times, April 19, 1992]
It's all mine, it's all sacred.
The writer walks out of his workroom in a daze. He wants a drink. He needs it. It happens to be a fact that nearly every writer of fiction in the world drinks more whisky than is good for him. He does...
My early attempts writing plays, which are very poetic, did not use the language that I work in now. I didn't recognize the poetry in everyday language of black America. I thought I had to change it t...
You are lucky to be one of those people who wishes to build sand castles with words, who is willing to create a place where your imagination can wander.
Every writer must acknowledge and be able to handle the unalterable fact that he has, in effect, given himself a life sentence in solitary confinement.
A goal is a written plan.Write your dreams and visions.
You can have practically anything you want in this world, if you have great credit.
You're never as good a writer as you think you are, and you're never as bad. Just keep reading and writing, writing, writing.
When I write, it feels like there are two little creatures that sit on each of my shoulders. One whispers, "You can do this. You've got what it takes." The other sounds like my mother-in-law.
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