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Each morning my characters greet me with misty faces willing though chilled to muster for another day's progress through the dazzling quicksand the marsh of blank paper.
- John UpdikePhoto by ian dooley on Unsplash
Each morning my characters greet me with misty faces willing though chilled to muster for another day's progress through the dazzling quicksand the marsh of blank paper.
- John UpdikeMost of American life consists of driving somewhere and then returning home,...
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Writing criticism is to writing fiction and poetry as hugging the shore is to...
The Founding Fathers in their wisdom decided that children were an unnatural...
We were alone. Where I could not say hardly imagine. All was black and such a dense black that after some minutes my eyes had not been able to discern even the faintest glimmer.
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