Writing well involves walking the path of most resistance. Sitting still, being patient, allowing the lunatic dream to take shape on the page, then the shaping, the pencil on the page, breathing, slowing down, being willing–no, more than willing, being wide open–to press the bruise until it blossoms.

Everything I know about life I learned from the daily practice of sitting down to write.

You can start your day over anytime.

What was going on inside of me became louder because everything around me became quieter.

Success is so fleeting, even if you get a good book deal or your book is a huge success, there's always the fear: What about the next one?

When I sit down with my notebook, when I start scribbling words across the page, I find out what I’m feeling.

I remember getting my first cell phone in New York, getting into a taxi and thinking "This is the end of solitude in the back of a taxi." What used to happen in the back of a taxi? You looked out the window. My brain has become less able to spend lengths of time without shifting, and I worry about that.