I have to remind myself that some birds aren’t meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright.

I'm still in love with what I do, with the idea of making things up, so hours when I write always feel like very blessed hours to me.

sure, we need the gypsies. we always have. because if you don't have someone to run out of town once in a while, how are you going to know you yourself belong there?

Mister, we deal in lead.

stop now before i kill you a word to the wise from your friend PENNYWISE

The important question has nothing to do with whether the talk in your story is sacred or profane; the only question is how it rings on the page and in your ear. If you expect it to ring true, then you must talk yourself. Even more important, you must shut up and listen to others talk.

Do they see the lethal insanity of a race to the brink of oblivion, and then over the edge? Apparently not. If they did, surely they wouldn't be racing to begin with. Or is it a simple failure of imagination? One doesn't like to think such a rudimentary failing could bring about the end, yet...