There is a stereotype out there about writers. They’re talented and frustrated and hit the bottle way too often. Maybe the reason some talented writers are frustrated and drink to excess is because of what they’re asked to write. Example:
A good novel tells us the truth about its hero; but a bad novel tells us the truth about its author.
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.
My aim is to put down what I see and what I feel in the best and simplest way I can tell it.
Reading and weeping opens the door to one’s heart, but writing and weeping opens the window to one’s soul.
It took me fifteen years to discover I had no talent for writing, but I couldn’t give it up because by that time I was too famous.
I write the last line, and then I write the line before that. I find myself writing backwards for a while, until I have a solid sense of how that ending sounds and feels. You have to know what your voice sounds like at the end of the story, because it tells you how to sound when you begin.
Critics are people who sit on the mountaintop and look down on the battlefield. When the fighting is finished, they take it upon themselves to come down from the mountain and shoot the survivors.
Writers aren’t people exactly. Or, if they’re any good, they’re a whole lot of people trying so hard to be one person.
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.
Every writer with half a brain knows to surround himself or herself with editors who are smarter, far more articulate and infinitely better looking.