In fiction, you can feel good about resistance without actually resisting anything.
You loved his talent first. You hope that he will not love you less, for all that you do not now achieve.
I thought I was the exception to every rule about writing being a hard living. I got exactly what I deserved.
Can writing change the shape of our organs? Do brains warp into book-making shape?
To all the wonderful would-be authors out there: Do as I say, not as I do.
Eat your meals standing up. Don’t sneak onto Mt. Kilimanjaro.