There Aren't Many Shy Writers Left.

I Love To Imagine Inside The Head Of A Woman.

I Envy Those Writers Who Outline Their Novels, Who Know Where They're Going. But I Find Writing Is A Process Of Discovery.

I'm Afraid That - Not Necessarily Deliberately, But Consistently - I've Made A Kind Of Laboratory Out Of My Life, Where I Mix The Stuff In The Test Tubes To Create Explosions - Possibly Resulting In Interesting By-products. I Mean, Not Deliberately - I'd Be Crazy To Deliberately Do That - Or Maybe Not.

What I'm Nostalgic For Is The Idea Of An Edge In New York. There Used To Be These Fringes Of The City Where Civilization Sort Of Ended, And Therefore Young People Could Live Cheaply, Or Open Nightclubs Or Art Galleries, Or Even Squat. That Fringe Moved Out To New Jersey And Brooklyn. The Whole Idea Of The Metropolis Is The Centralization Of Like-minded Souls, And When The Central Real Estate Becomes Too Expensive, The Dreamers, The Young Poets, And The Artists Will Go Elsewhere.

I Think It's Dangerous To Think You Know What You're Writing. I Usually Don't Know, And Usually I Just Discover It In The Course Of Writing. I Envy Those Writers Who Can Outline A Beginning, A Middle, And End. Fitzgerald Supposedly Did It. John Irving Does. Bret Easton Ellis Does. But For Me, The Writing Itself Is The Process Of Discovery. I Can't See All That Far Ahead.