Sometimes stories cry out to be told in such loud voices that you write them just to shut them up.

There is no such thing as a happy ending. I never met a single one to equal "Once upon a time.

I was built with a love of the night and the unquiet coffin.

He lay back, put his arm over his eyes, and tried to hold onto the anger, because the anger made him feel brave. A brave man could think. A coward couldn't.

When you start, it's very cold, an impossible task. But then maybe the characters start to take on a little bit of life, or the story takes a turn that you don't expect ... With me that happens a lot because I don't outline, I just have a vague notion. So it's always felt like less of a made thing and more of a found thing. That's exciting. That's a thrill.

Clear communication between selves - the surface self and the deep self - is the enemy of self-doubt. It slays confusion.

never's the word God listens for when he needs a laugh.