I am a twenty-something writer who lives alone in Manhattan, in a dream apartment with a doorman and even a walk-in closet. But unlike Carrie Bradshaw, I left my Mr. Big for good.
He describes writing as being less like riding a bike, and more like working out at the gym: Use it or lose it.
I love unreliable narrators. I love having to pay close attention to the words I’m reading to figure out whether I should take them at face value or whether they are complete bullshit. I love playing detective while I read. I love twists and turns and being slapped in the face by the unexpected.
The writer’s life is rife with rejection. Get used to it.
Choosing to follow the creative path is not for the weak of heart. People who prefer a linear life should steer clear of making a living through words.
Creating a villainous character is so much more than giving a fictional person a devil-may-care attitude; with it comes a great degree of complexity, which is by no means easy to navigate.
This book cross references EVERY SINGLE PERSONALITY TYPE with every single other personality type.
I agreed that we are not very compatible. Yet by now each of us is so much a part of the other’s life that neither wants to give up our friendship. We got out of bed, Ronna in her pink bathrobe, and talked as friends till 4 AM.
In many of these stories, there is no happy ending. The woman doesn’t rise up and slay her male antagonists. They just suffer and die despite their best efforts. That is real horror.
All you need to do to publish a best-selling book is take a selfie of your foot. Seriously.