Elf made his way fuzzily back to the drawer, trying to think nasty thoughts about his tormentor (Mungo the dog) but he couldn't, as he was too little and his mind was formless and without messages.( Elf the tiny kitten Mungo tormented )

An idyllic childhood is probably illusion.

writers just kept on staring at nothing until they wrote something. Might be two minutes or two weeks.

And so it continued all day, wynde after wynde, From a room beyond came the whistle of a teakettle. Now, you really must join me. I've some marvelous Darjeeling, and some delicious petit fours a friend of mine gave me for Christmas.

You can't be blocked if you just keep on writing words. Any words. People who get 'blocked' make the mistake of thinking they have to write good words.

I cleared my throat - it isn't frogs you get in your throat; it's memories.

Writing is an antisocial act.