With The First Kiss His Mouth Will

I Certainly Wanted To Write A Book That Was Honest About New Orleans Without Explaining It To Death, So Much So That The First Draft Contained References Absolutely Incomprehensible To Anyone Who Hasn't Lived Here For Several Years.

It Was Like Discovering That Your Innermost Fires And Terrors, The Things You Believed No One Else Could Fathom, Were In Fact The Basis Of A Recognized Philosophy. Some Part Of You Felt Intimately Invaded, Threatened; Some Other Part Fell To Its Knees And Sobbed In Gratitude That It Was No Longer Alone.

Delete Nothing. Move Nothing. Change Nothing. Learn Everything.

You Hold Onto What You Have; You Do Not Give It Up Easily, Even When You Know It Is Poisoning You.

In France, For Instance, One Magazine Writer Was Convinced That On The Road Had Been A Huge Influence On Lost Souls And Was Crushed To Learn That I Hadn't Read The One Until After I'd Written The Other.