I was already at an age when putting off anything was a bad idea.
For writers, so much is done in isolation. It can be easy to feel detached, or to get a little lost along the way.
I can only imagine the quiet horror that people must endure when they meet me in person.
David Cristofanos debut novel captures the essence of the human spirit, and delivers a story that is simultaneously heartwarming and heartbreaking.
I feel like it's a good time to be a writer. I'm terminally optimistic. It seems like the publishing industry is in the middle of a big transition, and that the rules of the game are still sorting themselves out.
Oftentimes, if a writer really gets her hooks into me, I'll want to read interviews, or listen to an interview, or read a literary biography or a memoir of some kind. And doing so almost always deepens my enjoyment of the author and her work.
I can think of plenty of writers whose work I revere and whose lives I know little about.
The less prudence with which others conduct their affairs, the greater the prudence with which we should conduct our own affairs.
You know, I play in small, intimate venues; I'm not an arena performer.
I'm a romantic and I kinda believed in this fairy tale. And in some ways I think that's always been to my advantage, because like if you can believe in something great, I feel like you can achieve something great.
Comfort me from wherever you are–alone, we are quickly worn out; if I place my head on the road, let it seem softened by you. Could it be that even from afar we offer each other a gentle breath?