I found this in the August 2nd, 2019, New York Times. Fun reading…if you’re not suffering from reader’s block:
I found this in the August 2nd, 2019, New York Times. Fun reading…if you’re not suffering from reader’s block:
What I loved most about calling myself a reporter was that it gave me an excuse to show up anyplace.
If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all.
No writer has ever yet been known to hang himself as long as he had another chapter left.
The fact is, I don’t know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn’t collapse when you beat your head against it.
I haven’t got 10 rules that guarantee success, though I promise I’d share them if I did. The truth is that I found success by stumbling off alone in a direction most people thought was a dead end, breaking all the 1990s shibboleths about children’s books in the process.
Reading and weeping opens the door to one’s heart, but writing and weeping opens the window to one’s soul.
Writing has laws of perspective, of light and shade, just as painting does, or music. If you are born knowing them, fine. If not, learn them. Then rearrange the rules to suit yourself.
It is only natural to pattern yourself after someone. But you can’t just copy someone. If you like someone’s work, the important thing is to be exposed to everything that person has been exposed to.
Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.
When writing a novel, that’s pretty much entirely what life turns into: “House burned down. Car stolen. Cat exploded. Did 1,500 easy words, so all in all it was a pretty good day.”
A writer without interest or sympathy for the foibles of his fellow man is not conceivable as a writer.
There are three primal urges in human beings: Food, sex, and rewriting someone else’s play.
If the sex scene doesn’t make you want to do it — whatever it is they’re doing — it hasn’t been written right.