Confession: I don't want to be one of my characters. I'm mean to them sometimes. Really mean.
Grab a pen and your turf will have no limits.
Life. Is a sentence, therein, weave your story toward freedom.
Writing is the spectrum through which the chaos of life can be seen, studied and understood.
If you are an artist, may no love of wealth or fame or admiration and no fear of blame or misunderstanding make you ever paint, with pen or brush, an ideal of external life otherwise than as you see i...
Writing is a blurred mirror. Sometimes we work harder to see how we are reflected, but often we avert our gaze from the shadowy image.
No art ever came out of not risking your neck.
I have a great many opinions about writing, but I'm afraid that all of them are unprintable
How is your book doing?" or "How many copies have you sold?" are the questions for a salesman. To a writer, you better ask "What did you write today?".
Make your skin as thick as you are able to, for your career. Keep it as thin as you can tolerate, for your art.
For the writer, madness should seep slowly out of them from the world they endure each day.
Someone asked me, 'How do you write a book?' I said, 'I live with a pen in one hand.
Behind every novel is a greater story of how it came to be published.
Authors, such as William Zinsser, Steven Pinker, Natalie Goldberg, and Stephen King, who have all written exquisite books on the art and craft of writing, have reminded me that it is the commitment to...
Fantasy is an excellent platform to shine new lights on old truths.
Of course, if I write a first-person novel about a woman writer, I am inviting every book reviewer to apply the autobiographical label -- to conclude that I am writing about myself. But one must never...
The moment I realize I just stayed up until five in the morning writing is that moment I know I am meant to be a writer.
Write them all down. The mistakes and the blessings and the places you cracked in two. Write the prayers and the tantrums. The sacred and the profane. The open roads and the closed doors. Nothing is p...
On the way home, I saw a fist fight between an adverb and a pair of parentheses.I kept on walking.
As a naturally shy person, I loved the anonymity of writing before my career took off. I loved how my stories didn't care about my weight. When I started publishing that writing, I loved that, to my r...
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