I would not know how I am supposed to feel about many stories if not for the fact that the TV news personalities make sad faces for sad stories and happy faces for happy stories.
The only story that seems worth writing is a cry, a shot, a scream. A story should break the reader’s heart.
If a script writer had come up with a story resembling what you have just achieved, even the Hollywood studios would have refused.
If you start thinking about being likable you are not going to tell your story honestly.
The single story creates stereotypes, and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story.
When we realize that there is never a single story about any place, we regain a kind of paradise.
Stories matter. Many stories matter.
I write from real life. I am an unrepentant eavesdropper and a collector of stories. I record bits of overheard dialogue.
Power is the ability not just to tell the story of another person, but to make it the definitive story of that person.
I hate to think that all my current experiences will someday become stories with no point.
I chose to tell the story visually, so that anyone of any age, from any country, could understand it.
One story sounds good until another is told.
This moment will just be another story someday.
That was always my hope that that is exactly what I would do. It was always part of the dream of this story – to write the novel and then direct the movie.
The inside jokes weren’t jokes anymore. They had become stories. Nobody brought up the bad names or the bad times. And nobody felt sad as long as we could postpone tomorrow with more nostalgia.
The inside jokes weren’t jokes anymore. they had become stories.
Not everyone has a sob story, Charlie, and even if they do, it’s no excuse.
We live in a world made up more of story than stuff. We are creatures of memory more than reminders, of love more than likes.
My life story is the story of everyone I’ve ever met.
Writing’s funny, it’s like walking down a hall in the dark looking for the light switch, and suddenly you find it, flip it on, and then you discover the hallway you passed through is papered with the novel you’ve written.