Said Hamlet to Ophelia, I'll draw a sketch of thee. What kind of pencil shall I use? 2B or not 2B?
For years, I had no time for exploratory travel.
Music was language in our house. It was air. . . . . I feel certain that if I absorbed any lessons at all in the first months and years of my life, they must have been about the work that went into making a beautiful sound.
I enjoy the more floaty, exposed, elegant singing.
I haven't really been able to transfer into that extraordinarily other worldly creature, other than I hope on stage.
I don't like to sing loud.
I would love to do more private concerts.
We were greeted by the minister whose inclusive, non-judgemental smile was no more than a whisker away from a smirk. Have I made it clear? I don't like belief systems and even less like those that peddle self-righteousness. I have no doubt the minister was a sincere man, but I am not as impressed by the idea of sincerity as the sincere seem to be.
Now, as a reader, you shouldn't feel the decisions the writer makes about this DNA, or it would be boring beyond belief. But, as a writer, you're struggling to make these decisions. What should the title be? What's the first line? The point of view? And the struggle with the decisions is because you're trying to figure out WHAT IS THE NOVEL, WHAT IS THE NOVEL?
I hope to find the perfect band as well, I really do, and I'm working very hard to find that band.
Make no more giants, God!But elevate the race at once!