The Sea Pronounces Something, Over And Over,

When You Write, You Lay Out A Line Of Words. Soon You Find Yourself Deep In New Territory.

Noticing And Remembering Everything Would Trap Bright Scenes To Light And Fill The Blank And Darkening Past Which Was Already Piling Up Behind Me. The Growing Size Of That Blank And Ever-darkening Past Frightened Me; It Loomed Beside Me Like A Hole In The Air And Battened On Scraps Of My Life I Failed To Claim. If One Day I Forgot To Notice My Life, And Be Damned Grateful For It, The Blank Cave Would Suck Me Up Entire.

I Cannot Imagine A Sorrier Pursuit Than Struggling For Years To Write A Book That Attempts To Appeal To People Who Do Not Read In The First Place.

Put Yourself Out Of Your Misery.

Novels Written With Film Contracts In Mind Have A Faint But Unmistakable, And Ruinous, Odor.