Some people are going to be impatient no matter what. If I wrote two books a year, someone out there would be pissed I wasn't writing three.

I have had a few gentlemen let me know they find my manly beardiness somewhat alluring. Never any ladies though.

When left to its own devices it tends to make me look as if I’ve been set afire.

He had a bright, reckless tenor that was always wandering off, looking for notes in the wrong places.

I'm kind of balanced between excited about the potential of the project, and the knowledge that I shouldn't get my hopes up. I like to be practical, and the truth is, these deals fall apart all the time.

The myth stems from the belief that writing is some mystical process. That it's magical. That it abides by its own set of rules different from all other forms of work, art, or play.But that's bullshit. Plumbers don't get plumber's block. Teachers don't get teacher's block. Soccer players don't get soccer block. What makes writing different? Nothing. The only difference is that writers feel they have a free pass to give up when writing is hard.

If I'd been whoring before class and waved a corset at him, no one would have thought twice about it!