I'm not sure I would call it agony but there is a kind of cyclic frustration. You get one story right and then here comes another one. When does that end? What I'm trying to do is get it to end right now, by recognizing that that cycle is writing. That is: trying to understand the frustrations and setbacks (and agony) as part of a bigger chess game you are playing with art itself.

The best thing that ever happened to me is that nothing happened in writing. I ended up working for engineering companies, and that's where I found my material, in the everyday struggle between capitalism and grace. Being broke and tired, you don't come home your best self.

As one gets older, this question of death, becomes more vexing and urgent.

If you could press a button and your ego investment was less, the toothache would be less. Or less tragic at least.

Anyone can be shamed, but feeling guilt requires empathy within.

The bottom line for me is that life is short and art is long.

I'm not a natural criticizer - I prefer to like and praise and so on.