Isolation offered its own form of companionship

That's what books are for... to travel without moving an inch.

A writer has to true to him or herself. Period. That’s it!

The sky was different, without color, taut and unforgiving. But the water was the most unforgiving thing, nearly black at times, cold enough, I knew, to kill me, violent enough to break me apart. The waves were immense, battering rocky beaches without sand. The farther I went, the more desolate it became, more than any place I'd been, but for this very reason the landscape drew me, claimed me as nothing had in a long time.

I would not send a first story anywhere. I would give myself time to write a number of stories.

On the screen I saw tanks rolling through dusty streets, and fallen buildings, and forests of unfamiliar trees into which East Pakistani refugees had fled, seeking safety over the Indian border.

Writing is one of the most assertive things a person can do.