I'm very disciplined, but the one thing that I have addictive behavior about is the Internet.

I often envy my friends who are visual artists. Visual artists have other things to work with. Other media. I envy my sculptor friends: they have hunks of matter. Marble. Wood. It's physical, which I find very appealing. What we have is nothing, is just glaringly blank.

All there is to do, right at this very moment, is to breathe in, breathe out, and kiss the joy as it flies.

I found myself doing so much public speaking, more and more and bigger and bigger.

Music inspires me and puts me in the right mood, but to actually listen to it when I write - I find it gets in the way.

My journals were a clearing house - a garbage can. Once I was writing seriously, I understood that this was the stuff that didn't belong in my work.

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?