There was nothing … and nothing … and then the car bumped up again. There was a muffled pop, the sound of a small pumpkin exploding in a microwave ove...
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Some part of me knew from the first that what I wanted was not reality but myth.
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I have seen many cases like N. during the five years I've been in practice. I sometimes picture these unfortunates as men and women being pecked to de...
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It is completely raw, the sort of thing I feel free to do with the door shut—it’s the story undressed, standing up in nothing but its socks and unders...
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The heart also knows things, and so does the imagination. Thank God. If not for heart and imagination, the world of fiction would be a pretty seedy pl...
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Bad writing is more than a matter of shit syntax and faulty observation; bad writing usually arises from a stubborn refusal to tell stories about what...
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A few of the gunslingers dance, but only a few. And they were the young ones. The other ones only sat, and it seemed to me they were half embarrassed ...
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...and still the hands did their trick, like over-eager dogs that want to do their rolling—over trick for you not once or twice but all night.
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The Man in Black fled across the desert, and the Gunslinger followed
