You're...writing for other writers to an extent-the dead writers whose work you admire, as well as the living writers you like to read.
Raymond CarverThere was this funny thing of anything could happen now that we realized everything had.
Raymond CarverShe serves me a piece of it a few minutes out of the oven. A little steam rises from the slits on top. Sugar and spice - cinnamon - burned into the crust. But she's wearing these dark glasses in the kitchen at ten o'clock in the morning - everything nice - as she watches me break off a piece, bring it to my mouth, and blow on it. My daughter's kitchen, in winter. I fork the pie in and tell myself to stay out of it. She says she loves him. No way could it be worse.
Raymond Carver