writers-life

I travel to the ancient world by reading ancient books.

I love reading.

You can only write well, what you have experienced.

Writers are creatures of habit, as are humans, but writers aren__ necessarily human, are they?

The internet is killing the art of writing. The big "publish" button begs you to publish even before you go back and make one single edit, and as if this was not enough, you have instant readers who praise your writing skills!-

If rejections were cash, I'd be rich

I am so over you, Rejection. You can't get to me like that anymore. I won't let you squash my hopes and dreams. (Slams door) So there!

The worst reviews, by my mind, are those from individuals who enjoy entertaining themselves by writing something bad about books they actually never read, which is as clear as day from what they__e saying. It__ even more puzzling for an author to check some of these __onest_ reviewers_ pages and see that they created their profile with one goal in mind; to post you a bad review, as there__ nothing else they wanted to rate.

Trying to get an agent is like standing in line to be picked for kickball. Pick me! Pick me! ...Dang, last again.

In the writers mind, even a backstory has a backstory.

I believe the best reviews are any of those wherein readers share their true opinion, no matter how many stars they rate my work. When I receive responses from appreciative people thanking for useful and amusing reading, it feels like my wings stretch up and blood carries the highest happiness circulating in my veins. I think many writers will understand what I mean by that.

He stares at meâ__aking me inâ__ith his lips slightly parted. I struggle to hold myself in place as we gawk at each other. I want so desperately to run, but something is holding me back, keeping me in place.

I think the best thing about being a writer is getting to dream. It's constantly viewing life through the "what if?" lens.

Paradise of Lailah Gifty Akita is reading, wondering and writing.

Imaginative writers often project their own monsters and meanings on basic facts.

In our Impulsive nature to write and repulsive nature to read that has led to a decline in literary genius in our times!

The novelist is condemned to wander all his life. Homeless and blind like Oedipus he wanders until death. And so let us protect the novelist and adore him, with pity, honor, and love.

Creativity bleeds from the pen of inspiration.