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The Writing LifeI used bravado to protect myself when we lived in poverty.
We caress the rough. Sensuous, delectable, and yet sorrowful.
Identify where you came from, where you are, and where you wish to go.
You can go from one town square to another and never fall in love.
Ah, yes, Rita reminded herself: I won. Her Mistress of Mayhem award.
I am always hungry & wanting to have sex. This is a fact.
If they don’t give you a seat at the table, bring a folding chair.
I’m a theatrical lyricist. I would never choose to look fat in public.
Frank Conroy
Audio clips of Pultizer Prize winner Jennifer Egan on her work.
How many times had I passed it in a taxicab or walked within sight of it?
Ring, ring, ring at 2 a.m. means meth’s got my brother in the slammer again.
The rich man adorns himself and the elegant man gets dressed.
Grass grows, birds fly, waves pound the sand. I beat people up.
“You look like you’re about to fall over,” he says. “Are you all right?”
Youth! Goodness! Joy! Hope! Strange things to bring to a place like this.
Her knees seemed about to give way, and he quickly grabbed her elbow.
We were assigned straight to the lion’s muzzle, the Sardasht front.
It was more fun to get drunk with a friend than with a lover.
I’ve wavered in confidence, but never on whether I was going to write.
Do we hunger after conflict as much as we hunger after justice?
No one in Lagos slouches. Bravado pulsates through the room.
I came to computers while trying to run away from literature.
I’m told that even during war, she took the time to put on lipstick.
The best writers talk a story the way they put it down on the page.
In the best fiction, there exists a palpable sense of discovery.
It’s wrong to say the lightning is pink is nothing other than to say it’s not.