It’s not that I bounce ideas off of my children as much as it is that having children has had a profound effect on the way I see the world. They have mined my soul. They’ve made me a better person and therefore a more empathetic writer.
Red Sox fans have been pushed to the brink over the years, but that’s how faith grows stronger.
If I’d learned nothing else, it was this: If you want to be a great writer, be a man. If you can’t be a man, write like one.
I try not to divide plot and character. I get to know a character by what they want and fear and how those internal forces play out in their lives.
Writing stories is the habit of lying put to good use.
People know the difference between good and evil in their hearts-if they search them. Religions twist good and evil. Their differences are the kind that need to be taught because they aren’t natural.
Omission is a sin only if, in the process of deceiving, you forget the truth. Lying is a sin only if, in the process, the lie becomes the only truth.
The intricacy of plotting a thriller is akin to writing formal poetry.
If you look at the world one way, it takes from you – it’s a thief of time, energy, creative mojo. But if you look at the world another way, it gives you an endless supply of motivation.
Try to think of writing as a gift – more complexly put: it is the curse and the cure.
Writers are socially observant. We find people endlessly fascinating, and real life is mysterious. Sometimes it’s hard to stop staring at the strut and squawk of my fellow man. They can be quite inspiring. Sometimes it’s hard to stop talking to them to see what in the world they’re thinking.
What does it mean to be Catholic and not a Catholic? I feel adrift, homeless. My Catholic imagination allows me to see the soul as a lit breath, seeking the divine. It persists.
The truth is that for those 86 long years when the Red Sox went without a World Series win, fans were not only in a recession, but trapped in a longstanding, deeply entrenched sports depression.
Our imaginations are strong as children. Sometimes they get shoved aside, these imaginations. They get dusty and mildewed with age. The imagination is a muscle that has to be put to use or it shrivels.
When you’re in the world looking for only one thing, you find it or it finds you. The obsession can be mutual.
The lessons learned in journalism also apply. Writing for NPR has taught me to cut a piece in half and then in half again – without losing the essence. Apply that to the swollen prose of a bulky novel and you might reveal a beautiful work.
But there it is: Everyone is alone, for life, and maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
Our love is our burden.
Is it wrong to kill something that wants to kill you?
You learn to exploit genre for the more important things – to my mind – like story, character, image, language.