Lil had always believed that a person's duty was to make the best of the hand they were dealt. No use wondering what might have been, she used to say, all that matters is what is.
I am not a storyteller . . . not like the others. I only have one tale to tell.
She was the breeze on a summer's day, the first drops of rain when the earth was parched, light from the evening star.
She says there are stories everywhere and that people who wait for the right one to come along before setting pen to paper end up with very empty pages.
Will history remember us, I wonder? I do hope so - to imagine that one might do something, touch an event somehow, & thereby transcend the bounds of a single human lifetime!
Some say I'm an overnight success. Well, that was a very long night that lasted about 10 years. But while I do, of course, now feel the pressure having had books that have been very successful, I just know I have to concentrate on writing for myself. I can't worry about genres or markets or what might be commercial or not. That never works.
We're all unique, just never in the ways we imagine.
People might think writing is a hard business, but it's nowhere near acting.
In retrospect, it seems like everything in my life led to me becoming a writer. I just didn't realise it at the time.
I'd pretty much given up hope of being published, so I just wrote the book I wanted to read.
I love the structural part of the writing process.
She did as she felt, and she felt a great deal.
Doors lead to things and I've never met one I haven't wanted to open.
I sound contemptuous, but I am not. I am interested--intrigued even--by the way time erases real lives, leaving only vague imprints. Blood and spirit fade away so that only names and dates remain.
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