If love fell in love with another word, do you think that word would smell, taste, and rhyme with it? I think so, and I think that word is jambalaya, but maybe I’m pronouncing love wrong.
I don’t mince words—I mincemeat. And combining these two I’m writing a cookbook called, “101 Pies I’ve Never Eaten—And Neither Should You.
Certain words roll off the tongue like frozen balls of saliva. Words like sure, positive, and definite—you know, words that are certain.
In hospitality, people vacation where you live. And so when I stay home from work it’s like a double vacation.
You make me sick. I think I’ll have to call out of work on your account. Or have that account closed.
This world is nothing more than fresh white underwear, and I’m going to leave my mark on it.
I saw myself in a piece of glass that wasn’t a mirror. Was that my doppelganger or my clone? Who was that? Who am I? Maybe if I hadn’t been acting like a reverse Peeping Tom, trying to look out into the world, this existential dilemma wouldn’t ...
I want to write an unreliable narrator. In fact, he’ll be so unreliable that I’m not even sure he’ll show up to narrate.
A pen is like a switchblade you can actually write with—and pull off a successful mugging with.
I don't sit on material like a sofa. I also don't sit on material like a sofa. I’m a stand on the couch kind of writer.
The country with the most writers is ironically probably the country with the least readers—USA. And once my parents die, my entire reading base will disappear.
I don’t like writers whose writing is so obvious that I can predict what he’ll write while I’m still taking in his current thoughts. Why, this means that I know what he knows, and the point of reading is to discover things and thoughts which I ...
I meant to spend the day writing, but instead I spent the afternoon cleaning out my belly button. Historians will thank me one day.
Today I ate my manuscript with the very spoon I used to write it with. My book was called “Chicken Noodle Soup for the Stomach.” I wrote it with alphabet soup, and then edited it with a can of chicken noodle soup.
A picture is worth a thousand words, but is 400% less valuable, because a picture only captures one of the senses—sight. However, words can describe the other four senses, making writing four times more potent than photography.
I have been writing for about eleven years now. I went from elfish to elephantish, and in another eleven years, I hope to be Elford.
I’ve been writing for about eleven years. I went from elfish to elephantish, and in another eleven years I hope to be Levin.
I’ll bet if I write a sentence and mention the word “edit,” people will slow down and scour my words for errors. Did it wrok?
You can’t write with dry ink. Likewise, using another author’s dried words to make your writing more fluid is not only dishonest, but it’s against everything I stand for as a former lifeguard.
Even if there were only seventeen syllables left in the universe, I still don’t think The Mythical Mr. Boo would write a haiku. Especially not if those syllables were groups of “oh,” “no,” “ah,” “ouch,” “ugh,” “eek,” and “...
When I write I am an avocado, and in a team sport setting, I am guacamole. And not to sour cream on your dreams, but with my love life, I am a nacho.
