Because as any writer will tell you, an IDEA for a book is like falling in love, it’s all wild emotion and headlong rush, but the ACTUAL ACT of writing a book is like building a relationship: it is joyous, slow, fragile, frustrating, exhilarating, ...
Let me tell you something, honey. Fifty percent of life is others trying to push their own agenda on you—their belief system, their views, their convictions. The other fifty percent is you deciding whether or not you’re going to let them. Or if y...
The only place I see you headed, Grady, is where you want to go. Wherever that might be. You’re in control of your life. You have it in you to achieve whatever you set your mind to. And don’t let Drew or anybody else tell you different.
Don't tell anyone, but on the pagan day of the sun god Ra, I kneel at the foot of an ancient instrument of torture and consume ritualistic symbols of blood and flesh. ...And if any of you care to join me, come to the Harvard chapel on Sunday, kneel b...
I know you like to be in control and you operate a lot from fear but you have to break the bounds of your past Nicole and rewrite the story you’ve been telling yourself based off of others experiences. You have to create your own experience, write ...
I keep telling myself that maybe, eventually, we’ll get to know each other, and he might like me. A lot. But that’s a long way off, and in the meantime, I already know I like him. A lot. And I don’t know what to do with these feelings.
But you don't need anything. You have everything,' I tell him. Rip looks at me. 'No I don't.' 'What?' 'No I don't.' There's a pause and then I ask, 'Oh, shit, Rip, What don't you have?' 'I don't have anything to loose.
One false step, and you’ll fall all the way to Tartarus—and believe me, unlike the Doors of Death, this would be a one-way trip, a very hard fall! I will have you dying before you tell me your plan for my artwork.
I am on my way, and tell him he better watch his ass!” Jack shouted, and I held the phone away from ear so it wouldn’t damage my eardrums. “Real mature, Jack,” Peter scoffed
I'm counting to ten in my head." "Is it helping?" "No." "It doesn't help me with you either. I used to life weights to alleviate frustration, but someone blowtorched my weight bench. How did you do it, by the way?" "I could tell you but then I'd have...
As we ride the elevator Gale finally says “You're still angry.” “And you're still not sorry,” I reply. "I will stand by what I said. Do you want me to lie about it?” he asks. “No, I want you to rethink it and come up with the right opinio...
There are no secrets.' The thing smiled, showing a row of even, childlike teeth. 'None worth keeping. Only the ones you hide from yourself, which are the most damaging and hurtful of all. Truth is truth, and lie is lie. Tell yourself one's the other ...
Keep in mind that in the whole long tradition of storytelling, from Greek myths through Shakespeare through King Arthur and Robin Hood, this whole notion that you can't tell stories about certain characters because someone else owns them is a very mo...
Act as if you're a writer. Sit down and begin. Act as if you might just create something beautiful, and by beautiful I mean something authentic and universal. Don't wait for anybody to tell you it's okay.
The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness. Although the two are identical twins, man, as a rule, views the prenatal abyss with more calm than the one...
What is it about hairdressers? You tell them 'not too short' and some part of their hairdresser brain hears this as 'whack the shit out of it.' If you never say, 'not too short,' everything is fine. You say it, & it's a guarantee you'll come out read...
Dolorita Hunsickle says that the chipmunks tell your fortune if you catch them but I never did. She says a chipmunk told her she would grow up to be a famous ballerina and that she would die of consumption unloved in a boardinghouse in Prague.
But your book is wrong, Mrs. Strunk, says George, when it tells you that Jim is the substitute I found for a real son, a real kid brother, a real husband, a real wife. Jim wasn't a substitute for anything. And there is no substitute for Jim, if you'l...
Seamlessly?” Stella’s laugh escaped her mouth and it was bitter and hard. “That may be an appropriate statement, because in order to look seamless, you must need to have an entire world of shit going on under the surface. I don’t see this sea...
I tell myself I have time. But the itch forming along the back of my neck and across my shoulders says otherwise. I hate this. It’s like I’m racing a clock ticking down to doomsday without knowing how much time I have left.
Now, Max, I think we both know your parents aren't missionaries." I opened my eyes wide. "No? Well, for God's sake, don't tell them. They'd be crushed. Thinking they're doing the Lord's work and all.
