I Used To Save All My Rejection

You Do It A Day At A Time. You Just Put Your Rejection Slips In A Shoebox And Tell Yourself One Day You're Going To Autograph Them And Sell Them At Auction.

I Also Believe My Home State Is Cursed By Ignorance And Poverty And Racism, Much Of It Deliberately Inculcated To Control A Vulnerable Electorate. And I Believe Many Of The Politicians In Louisiana Are Among The Most Stomach-churning Examples Of White Trash And Venality I Have Ever Known. To Me, The Fact That Large Numbers Of People Find Them Humorously Picaresque Is Mind Numbing, On A Level With Telling Fond Tales Of One's Rapist.

The Best Thing About Being A Best-selling Writer Is Being A Best-selling Writer. More Seriously, Today I Can Write Full Time And Pay The Bills.

Then The Sun Broke Above The Crest Of The Hills And The Entire Countryside Looked Soaked In Blood, The Arroyos Deep In Shadow, The Cones Of Dead Volcanoes Stark And Biscuit-colored Against The Sky. I Could Smell Pinion Trees, Wet Sage, Woodsmoke, Cattle In The Pastures, And Creek Water That Had Melted From Snow. I Could Smell The Way The Country Probably Was When It Was Only A Dream In The Mind Of God.

The Real Gladiators Of The World Are So Humble In Their Origins And Unremarkable In Appearance That When We Stand Next To Them In A Grocery-store Line, We Never Guess How Brightly Their Souls Can Burn In The Dark.