You Didn’t Get The Quest You Wanted,

It's A Terrible Thing For A Book, When You Feel Like You're Supposed To Like It.

There's A Special Gut-check Moment The First Time You Write A Scene In Which Somebody Casts A Spell.

It Was So Much Easier To Be Angry. Being Angry Made Him Feel Strong, Even Though-- And This Contradiction Did Nothing To Diminish His Anger-- He Was Angry Only Because His Position Was So Weak.

Book Tours Are Excellent Things, And One Is Lucky To Get To Go On One, But They Have A Way Of Leeching Away One's Will To Live.

The Idea Of Some Kind Of Objectively Constant, Universal Literary Value Is Seductive. It Feels Real. It Feels Like A Stone Cold Fact That In Search Of Lost Time, By Marcel Proust, Is Better Than A Shore Thing, By Snooki. And It May Be; Snooki Definitely Has More One-star Reviews On Amazon. But If Literary Value Is Real, No One Seems To Be Able To Locate It Or Define It Very Well. We're Increasingly Adrift In A Grey Void Of Aesthetic Relativism.