To Write A Short Story, You Have

Shopping For Clothes Is Like Masturbation - Everyone Does It, But It Isn't Very Interesting And Therefore Should Be Done Alone, In An Embarrassed Fashion, And Never Be The Topic Of Party Conversation.

Sometimes I Ask Myself If Writing Novels Is Even Respectable.

Writing Is Both The Excursion Into And The Excursion Out Of One's Life. That Is The Queasy Paradox Of The Artistic Life. It Is The Thing That, Like Love, Removes One Both Painfully And Deliciously From The Ordinary Shape Of Existence. It Joins Another Queasy Paradox: That Life Is An Amazing, Hilarious, Blessed Gift And That It Is Also Intolerable.

What Makes Humans Human Is Precisely That They Do Not Know The Future. That Is Why They Do The Fateful And Amusing Things They Do: Who Can Say How Anything Will Turn Out? Therein Lies The Only Hope For Redemption, Discovery, And-let’s Be Frank—fun, Fun, Fun! There Might Be Things People Will Get Away With. And Not Just Motel Towels. There Might Be Great Illicit Loves, Enduring Joy, Faith-shaking Accidents With Farm Machinery. But You Have To Not Know In Order To See What Stories Your Life’s Efforts Bring You. The Mystery Is All.

Forgiveness Lives Alone And Far Off Down The Road, But Bitterness And Art Are Close, Gossipy Neighbors, Sharing The Same Clothesline, Hanging Out Their Things, Getting Their Laundry Confused.