Rating 4.5/5
At the end of my adventures I was drinking a case of sixteen-ounce tallboys a night, and there’s one novel, Cujo, that I barely remember writing at all. I don’t say that with pride or shame, only with a vague sense of sorrow and loss.
Remember that the basic rule of vocabulary is use the first word that comes to your mind, if it is appropriate and colorful.
In fiction, the paragraph is less structured—it’s the beat instead of the actual melody. The more fiction you read and write, the more you’ll find your paragraphs forming on their own. And that’s what you want.
I distrust plot for two reasons: first, because our lives are largely plotless, even when you add in all our reasonable precautions and careful planning; and second, because I believe plotting and the spontaneity of real creation aren’t compatible.
Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s.
But the important thing is to push through, to not become depressed. I try to remember that we’re all amateurs at this, and every time I sit down it’s like the first time. I battle doubts all the time about whether or not this thing is working or that thing’s working, whether or not the idea is good. The one thing that I never really doubted is the language, the ability to put the words together.