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What right does an American mutt like me have to depict in fiction the lives of a Salvadoran family?

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.

Part of my desire to be in London related to its writers.

This box is full of wires, energy that moves in ways I can hardly fathom.

home is his hands, our bowls, so many gay fridge magnets.

I’ve wavered in confidence, but never on whether I was going to write.

Suddenly John was there, in slim blue jeans and a rough white shirt.

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.

If you’re not having fun, then there isn’t a big impetus to stay alive.

Mentors can suggest to you what more you are capable of.

A romp through everyday dramas with Hemingway, Kafka, and more!

If the kind hearts had fat purses, how much better everything would go!

Heaven preserve me from the Epidemic of a Proud Ignorance!

It’s been a rainy, relatively windless fall, the aspen leaves clinging.

In narrative terms, sex is the propeller that moves the story along.

What’s the most useful criticism you’ve received? “Keep writing.”

Henry Chinaski is just so deplorable and lovable; he makes me laugh.

I simply wrapped my arms around Maxey and held on for dear life.

I’ve found that love has provided my life’s happiest moments.

A friend of my father’s once told me, “You’ll never be a writer.”