When I Was A Child I Truly

A Common And Usually Unfortunate Answer Is “write About What You Know.” Nothing Can Be More Limiting To The Imagination, Nothing Is Quicker To Turn On The Psyche's Censoring Devices And Distortion Systems, Than Trying To Write Truthfully.

As A Rule Of Thumb I Say, If Socrates, Jesus And Tolstoy Wouldn't Do It, Don't.

Talking, Talking. Spinning A Web Of Words, Pale Walls Of Dreams, Between Myself And All I See.

The True Artist Plays Mad With His Soul, Labors At The Very Lip Of The Volcano, But Remembers And Clings To His Purpose, Which Is As Strong As The Dream. He Is Not Someone Possessed, Like Cassandra, But A Passionate, Easily Tempted Explorer Who Fully Intends To Get Home Again, Like Odysseus.

Writing A Novel Is Like Heading Out Over The Open Sea In A Small Boat. It Helps, If You Have A Plan And A Course Laid Out.