You spend your whole life looking for something, and along the way you’re gonna find things. The key to life is learning to be happy with whatever you happen to find — because it probably won’t be what you expected.

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It’s easy to write a lot. It’s much more difficult to write less and still say something.

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Writing fiction is sadistic. You create characters, and then you do awful things to them — that makes a story.

*Reading* fiction isn’t much better.

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Why do i write the stuff i write? I guess i just write; and what comes out, comes out.

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In life, you do the best you can with the opportunities that come along. Sometimes great things happen; sometimes not so great.

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For me, maybe it’s not worth doing things in real life. I’m not going to remember things very well; i may as well just read about something — i’ll get about the same experience as if i actually did it. Now that Sandi is gone, i have even less reason to do anything new IRL.