I Don't Know Anything But Writing Practice,

Friends Open The Door For Me To Write. Then I Get Paid Attention To And It Allows Me To Write Other Books. The Great Spring And The Thirtieth Anniversary Of Bones Just Came Out And While I'm Happy And Excited About That, I've Already Finished A New Book. That's What Practice Does. You Don't Get Caught.

If You Love The Work, It Will Love You Back.

As Writers We Live Life Twice, Like A Cow That Eats Its Food Once And Then Regurgitates It To Chew And Digest It Again. We Have A Second Chance At Biting Into Our Experience And Examining It. ...this Is Our Life And It's Not Going To Last Forever. There Isn't Time To Talk About Someday Writing That Short Story Or Poem Or Novel. Slow Down Now, Touch What Is Around You, And Out Of Care And Compassion For Each Moment And Detail, Put Pen To Paper And Begin To Write.

We Have To Look At Our Own Inertia, Insecurities, Self-hate, Fear That, In Truth, We Have Nothing Valuable To Say. When Your Writing Blooms Out Of The Back Of This Garbage Compost, It Is Very Stable. You Are Not Running From Anything. You Can Have A Sense Of Artistic Security. If You Are Not Afraid Of The Voices Inside You, You Will Not Fear The Critics Outside You.

It Used To Be With Chocolate. I Would Put Chocolate In My Studio And Say, "you Know, Nat, There's This Chocolate You Can Have If You Get Over There." And Usually If I Got Over There, I Would Start Writing. Sometimes I Need Get Out Of The House And Go To A Café And Write. Sometimes I'll Write With Other Friends To Get Myself Going. And Sometimes I Just Say "ok, Nat, Enough. Go One Hour. Keep Your Hand Going." I'll Do Whatever It Takes.