I Write Every Day. Even If I'm

I Didn't Get Fired." "you Didn't Punch Your Boss And Get Fired From The Tribune? That's What I Heard." "i Punched What Could Loosely Be Called A Colleague For Cribbing My Notes On A Story And Since The Editor–who Happened To Be The Asshole's Uncle–took His Word Over Mine, I Quit." "to Write Books. Is It Fun?" "i Guess It Is." "i Bet You Killed The Asshole In The First One You Wrote." "you'd Be Right. Beat Him To Death With A Shovel. Very Satisfying.

She Gazed Toward The Marsh That Grew Thicker, Deeper, Greener With Approaching Summer. Mosquitoes Whined In There, Breeding In The Dark Water. Alligators Slid Through It, Silent Death. It Was A Place Where Snakes Could Slither And Bogs Could Suck The Shoe Right Off Your Foot. And It Was A Place, She Thought, That Went Bright And Beautiful With The Twinkling Of Fireflies, Where Wildflowers Thrived In The Shade And The Stingy Light. Where An Eagle Could Soar Like A King. There Was No Beauty Without Risk. No Life Without It.

...those Who Love Suffer When Who They Love Suffers.

Roarke's Brow Cocked As He Noted Casto Take In The Black Satin That Slithered Over Eve's Body. In The Manner Of Men Or Unfriendly Male Dogs, Roarke Showed His Teeth.

[as A Writer] You Have To Have The Three D's: Drive, Discipline And Desire. If You're Missing Any One Of Those Three, You Can Have All The Talent In The World, But It's Going To Be Really Hard To Get Anything Done.