And I Loved This Moment For All

… In The Relentless And Meaningless Manner One Searches For Something In A Nightmare, Coming On Doors That Won’t Open Or Drawers That Won’t Shut, Struggling Over And Over Against The Same Meaningless Thing, Not Knowing Why The Effort Seems So Desperate, Why The Sudden Sight Of A Chair With A Shawl Thrown Over It Inspires The Mind With Horror.

In The Spring Of 1988, I Returned To New Orleans, And As Soon As I Smelled The Air, I Knew I Was Home. It Was Rich, Almost Sweet, Like The Scent Of Jasmine And Roses Around Our Old Courtyard. I Walked The Streets, Savoring That Long Lost Perfume.

Go Where The Pleasure Is In Your Writing. Go Where The Pain Is. Write The Book You Would Like To Read. Write The Book You Have Been Trying To Find But Have Not Found. But Write. And Remember, There Are No Rules For Our Profession. Ignore Rules. Ignore What I Say Here If It Doesn't Help You. Do It Your Own Way. Every Writer Knows Fear And Discouragement. Just Write.the World Is Crying For New Writing. It Is Crying For Fresh And Original Voices And New Characters And New Stories. If You Won't Write The Classics Of Tomorrow, Well, We Will Not Have Any.

I Had Many Wonderful Experiences, Received Beautiful Letters, And My Christian Books Received Substantive And Thoughtful Reviews. But There Was Always Argument, Dispute, Questions As To What I "really" Believed, Lectures From Here And There On "the Real Truth," Etc.

We Shall Live Even In This State Of Living Death, We Shall Love, We Shall Feel, We Shall Defy All Who Would Judge And Destroy Us.