...water Laughing Softly Down A Black Stone

I Think The One Thing That's Changed Over Time Is That I've Come To Realise, As A Fiction Writer, The Fact That I Don't Think It Will Work Out, Doesn't Mean That It Actually Won't.

I Wonder What Proust Would Have Made Of Our Present-day Locus Of Collective Fantasy, The Internet. I’m Guessing He Would Have Seized On Its Wistful Aspect, Pointing Out Gently And With Wry Humor That Much Of What Beguiles Us Is The Act Of Reaching For What Isn’t There.

I Know I'm Famous And Irresitible - A Combination Whose Properties Closely Resemble Radioactivity - And I Know That You In This Room Are Helpless Against Me.

Being Somewhere But Not Completely: That Was Home For Danny. . . . All He Needed Was A Cellphone Or I-access, Or Both At Once, Or Even Just A Plan To Leave Wherever He Was And Go Someplace Else Really Really Soon.

I Write Fiction Longhand. That's Not So Much About Rejecting Technology As Being Unable To Write Fiction On A Computer For Some Reason. I Don't Think I Would Write It On A Typewriter Either. I Write In A Very Blind Gut Instinctive Way. It Just Doesn't Feel Right. There's A Physical Connection. And Then In Nonfiction That's Not The Case At All. I Can't Even Imagine Writing Nonfiction By Hand.