Anecdotes don’t make good stories. Generally, I dig down underneath them so far that the story that finally comes out is not what people thought their anecdotes were about.
In Hollywood, the woods are full of people that learned to write but evidently can’t read. If they could read their stuff, they’d stop writing.
Do not place a photograph of your favorite author on your desk, especially if the author is one of the famous ones who committed suicide.
It took me fifteen years to discover I had no talent for writing, but I couldn’t give it up because by that time I was too famous.
I write the last line, and then I write the line before that. I find myself writing backwards for a while, until I have a solid sense of how that ending sounds and feels. You have to know what your voice sounds like at the end of the story, because it tells you how to sound when you begin.
It begins with a character, usually, and once he stands up on his feet and begins to move, all I can do is trot along behind him with a paper and pencil, trying to keep up long enough to put down what he says and does.
Writing is not necessarily something to be ashamed of, but do it in private and wash your hands afterwards.
If you have an idea that you genuinely think is good, don’t let some idiot talk you out of it.
A writer without interest or sympathy for the foibles of his fellow man is not conceivable as a writer.
I have long felt that any reviewer who expresses rage and loathing for a novel is preposterous. He or she is like a person who has just put on full armor and attacked a hot fudge sundae or banana split.
Socially, a journalist fits in somewhere between a whore and a bartender. But spiritually he stands beside Galileo. He knows the world is round.
Keep a small can of WD-40 on your desk — away from any open flames — to remind yourself that if you don’t write daily, you will get rusty.

























