“I guess there are never enough books.”
“Many people hear voices when no one is there. Some of them are called mad and are shut up in rooms where they stare at the walls all day. Ot...”
“You have to surrender to your mediocrity, and just write. Because it’s hard, really hard, to write even a crappy book. But it’s better to wr...”
“Writers end up writing about their obsessions. Things that haunt them; things they can’t forget; stories they carry in their bodies waiting ...”
“I just woke up one day and decided I didn’t want to feel like that anymore, so I changed.”
“Writing is hard work. A clear sentence is no accident. Very few sentences come out right the first time, or even the third time. Remember th...”
It's Just Fan Fic...
I got an email from a reader earlier. The sender was a lovely young woman who had just re-read my first published fic and wanted to tell me how much she enjoyed it—how it made her feel, how it made her smile, how it made her cry, how it made her excited to get home each night and curl up in bed wit...
“Marry me. Let’s spend our nights eating cereal on the floor when there is a perfectly fine table behind us. Marry me. We can go to the mov...”
Lemony Snicket goes up to the counter and orders a caffé Americano. It is bitter. The barista is armed. The man in the corner has poisoned someone’s drink. The espresso machine is on fire. Lemony Snicket begins to run down the street as the Starbucks explodes. He is being chased. He spills his coffe...
“There are two typos of people in this world: those who can edit, and those who can’t.”
Austen goes up to the counter and orders a cinnamon spice latte. The barista is a bore. The man behind her in line orders exactly what she orders; he too is a bore. He is handsome in the conventional sense, but there is no chance they could ever be married.
Pablo Neruda goes up to the counter. The air in the shop is sultry-sweet; The barista is beautiful, sensuous, warm - A caramel macchiato with eyes like stars. She has a flower behind her ear. She gives him a cup of tea. Moonlight streams in from the windows. He could stay here forever, Drinking his ...
Margaret Atwood goes up to the counter, but the Starbucks is no longer serving coffee. In fact, coffee has ceased to be manufactured. Atwood recalls the taste of coffee— sweet and bitter, a little melancholy— but she can’t quite recreate it perfectly. It’s gone, like the worl...
Zelda goes up to the counter and orders a drink all by herself. Her husband and Ernest Hemingway panic and have her removed from the Starbucks. The barista picks up her drink and tastes it. It is delicious.
Bradbury goes up to the counter and orders a grande coffee black. He drinks it too quickly. “Be careful, sir!” the barista warns. “It was a pleasure to burn,” replies Bradbury. “Oh,” says the barista. “You’re talking about censorship!” Bradbury is furious about being misinterpreted and storms out of...
“Your self-esteem shouldn’t depend on whether you publish, or whether some editor or writer you admire thinks you’re any good.”