The Los Angeles Times published a story on February 11, 2021, focusing on the tale of novelist Sheri Holman. She’s Read More...
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.
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.
Socially, a journalist fits in somewhere between a whore and a bartender. But spiritually he stands beside Galileo. He knows the world is round.
If you have an idea that you genuinely think is good, don’t let some idiot talk you out of it.
I have long felt that any reviewer who expresses rage and loathing for a novel is preposterous. He or she is like a person who has just put on full armor and attacked a hot fudge sundae or banana split.
You may be able to take a break from writing, but you won’t be able to take a break from being a writer.
The most valuable of all talents is that of never using two words when one will do.
Thank your readers and the critics who praise you, and then ignore them. Write for the most intelligent, wittiest, wisest audience in the universe: Write to please yourself.
A writer without interest or sympathy for the foibles of his fellow man is not conceivable as a writer.
I get up in the morning, torture a typewriter until it screams, then stop.
There are three primal urges in human beings: Food, sex, and rewriting someone else’s play.
No one can write decently who is distrustful of the reader’s intelligence or whose attitude is patronizing.
Anecdotes don’t make good stories. Generally, I dig down underneath them so far that the story that finally comes out is not what people thought their anecdotes were about.
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.

























