I don’t ask writers about their work habits. I really don’t care. Joyce Carol Oates says somewhere that when writers ask each other what time they start working and when they finish and how much time they take for lunch, they’re actually trying to find out, ‘Is he as crazy as I am?’ I don’t need that question answered.
We are all unreliable narrators of our own lives.
但我爱她,她可以褪色,可以萎谢,怎样都可以;但我只看她一眼,万般柔情,涌上心头。
A writer is someone who spends years patiently trying to discover the second being inside him, and the world that makes him who he is.