I never start a section of the story without knowing how it will end. I also consciously try to shape the story as though it were a movie.

I'm not sure you can count as history, was Keith Richards's "Life," which he so modestly titled it. I did find it a fascinating book. Keith's a pretty honest fellow.

There was nowhere to sit except the bunk, which was covered with rotting food, and a wooden stool, upon which sat a large fur-covered lump—an old cheese, perhaps, or a dead cat.

The voice belonged to Mr. Pzyrbovich, an algebra teacher who was always called Mr. P, for obvious reasons. He has a heavy accent, which a lot of kids said made him hard to understand, although to be fair some of these kids would have never understood algebra anyway.

Magnetism, as you recall from physics class, is a powerful force that causes certain items to be attracted to refrigerators.

Eventually everyone has to die, except Elvis.

Panicky despair is an underrated element of writing.