Welcome to the Ghostwriters Central blog. This blog will be authored by me, for the time being. We do hope you will find it to be useful, informative or entertaining. Or all three. –Michael McKown.
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.
Do not place a photograph of your favorite author on your desk, especially if the author is one of the famous ones who committed suicide.
Reading and weeping opens the door to one’s heart, but writing and weeping opens the window to one’s soul.
The most valuable of all talents is that of never using two words when one will do.
There are three primal urges in human beings: Food, sex, and rewriting someone else’s play.
Books aren’t written, they’re rewritten. Including your own. It is one of the hardest things to accept, especially after the seventh rewrite hasn’t quite done it.
A writer without interest or sympathy for the foibles of his fellow man is not conceivable as a writer.
Editor: A person employed by a newspaper, whose business it is to separate the wheat from the chaff, and to see that the chaff is printed.
Ever heard of a carpenter not going to work because he has “carpenter’s block”? If a writer can’t write, it’s because he doesn’t really want to, he isn’t ready to get it on paper or he’s just plain lazy.
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.
Every writer with half a brain knows to surround himself or herself with editors who are smarter, far more articulate and infinitely better looking.
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.
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.
Asking a working writer what he thinks about critics is like asking a lamppost how it feels about dogs.
If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all.
Socially, a journalist fits in somewhere between a whore and a bartender. But spiritually he stands beside Galileo. He knows the world is round.
What I loved most about calling myself a reporter was that it gave me an excuse to show up anyplace.

























