In This World, There Is A Kind

I Don't Want To Name Names Because They'd Be Mad At Me If I Did, But People Who Are Significant Novelists Can't Get Published By Real Publishers At This Point, Or Have To Go Through Two Years Of Trying After Writing A Novel That's Taken Them Five Or Six Years And Simply Can't Get The Thing In Print. Or It Gets In Print And It Doesn't Get Reviewed In The New York Times Book Review And Disappears Without A Trace. I Mean, It's Terrifying. I Don't Know How Anybody Can Stand It. It's Such An Enormous Amount Of Work And The Economics Of It Are Really Quite Brutal.

The Primary Thing I Should Do, Apart From Being A Good Husband, Brother, Son, And Friend, Is To Be A Citizen Activist. But I'm Afraid It Takes Away From The Writing. Not That Anything Depends On Whether I Put An Essay In 'the Nation' Or Not. But You Want To Participate.

The Smallest Indivisible Human Unit Is Two People, Not One; One Is A Fiction. From Such Nets Of Souls Societies, The Social World, Human Life Springs.

A Play Should Have Barely Been Rescued From The Mess It Might Just As Easily Have Been.

One Is Told That You're Either A Hot Writer, Or You're Finished And You're Over. But Of Course, The More You Hang Around And The More You Become Aware Not Only Of What "reputation" Is For Other Writers, But Also What Your Own Reputation Is, You Become Aware That It's Much More Complicated Than The Conventional Media Would Have You Believe.