I Know What To Do With My

I Think A Fairly Common Behavior Among Fiction Writers Is That They Want To Help. They're Generally Charitable People. They're Interested In The World. They're Curious, They're Empathetic. They Understand Suffering. They Don't Turn Away From That. But What They Do Is Essentially Useless. Except For The Sake Of The Thing Itself.

I Think If There Hadn't Been The One Passage Of The Book That Mostly Abandons The Humor, And Focuses Very Intently On One Person's Struggle With Cancer, It Wouldn't Have Been A Critical Success. So That Was A Very Deliberate Decision, To Say "well, If You Think It's All Fun And Games, It's Not." So That Was My Approach: We're Going To Have As Much Fun As I Can Possibly Provide, But The Serious Things That Might Normally Pass By You Are Not Going To Be Lost.

Things Could Be Worse And Things Could Be So Much Better.

If Someone Were Plucked From The Group And Given Those Responsibilities, They Might Find Themselves Growing More Aloof, Just By Virtue Of That Promotion. Suddenly The Group Culture Excludes You. I Saw This In My Own Working Life, And I Don't Think It's A Coincidence - I Sensed A Kind Of Loneliness In Middle Managers Especially.

I Think It's A Very Bad Idea For Someone To Start Writing For A Readership.