We all think that we are uniquely complex, that no one can see what we are thinking – yet we also believe that we have the rare ability to read others. This fascinates me at the moment.
You bring your own weather to the picnic.
Kids don’t do what their parents say-they do what they see their parents do. So who was to blame here?
William Goldman’s Marathon Man was a novel that taught me about suspense. I was maybe 16 years old when I read it and I remember thinking, “You could put a gun to my head and I wouldn’t put this book down.” I loved that feeling – and want to give it others.
I try to stress to my children that buying something never leads to true happiness.
The actual writing time is a lot shorter than the thinking time.
Memories, you see, hurt. The good ones most of all.
Hope is cruel. Hope reminds me of what almost was. Hope makes the physical ache return.
Genius is a curse. That’s how I look at it. Some think that the brilliant comprehend the universe in a way the rest of us can’t. They see the world how it truly is – and that reality is so horrible the lose their minds. Clarity leads to insanity.
I’m also inspired by anything that I consider great. It makes me want to raise my game too – Hitchcock movies, Hopper paintings, Springsteen concerts.
So basically your plan is to flail about helplessly.
Sure, on a larger scale, it was healthy to have people out there you cared about more than yourself. She knew that. But then there was the abject fear you would lose it. They say possessions own you. Not so. Loved ones own you. You are forever held hostage once you care so much.
A dancer on break approached him. She smiled. Each tooth was angled in a different direction, as if her mouth were the masterwork of a mad orthodontist. “Hi,” she said. “Hi.” “You’re really cute.” “I don’t have any money.” She spun and walked away. Ah, romance.
I still try to make the “next” book my “best” book. I want to grip and move you in unexpected ways.
The first sip of beer on a hot day is like that first finger-dip when you open a new jar of peanut butter.
There is the old catch-22 line that a mentally unstable person can’t know, as per their illness, that they are unstable. But that was wrong. You can and do have the insight to see your own crazy.
This was a place where tattoos outnumbered teeth.
Kate Atkinson is an absolute must-read. I love everything she writes.
In short, the satisfaction of creating, not necessarily the process, always lifts my heart.
Sometimes the loudest cries for help are silent.