#writ

It never ceases to amaze me how prosaic, pedestrian, unimaginative people can persistently pontificate about classical grammatical structure as though it's fucking rocket science. These must be the same people who hate Picasso, because he couldn't keep the paint inside the lines and the colors never matched the numbers. ↗

— Abbe Diaz

#structure #writing #science

My style of songwriting is influenced by cinema. I'm a frustrated filmmaker. A fan once said to me, 'Girl, you make me see pictures in my head!' and I took that as a great compliment. That's exactly my intention. ↗

— Joni Mitchell

#compliment #exactly #fan #filmmaker #frustrated

Each age tries to form its own conception of the past. Each age writes the history of the past anew with reference to the conditions uppermost in its own time. ↗

— Frederick Jackson Turner

#anew #conception #conditions #each #form

Other people, including me, have written books with main characters who were old and rich. Or old and brilliant. Old sages, old wizards, old rich people. ↗

— Elizabeth Moon

#brilliant #characters #including #main #me

With Sean Penn, he wants to be surprised. He doesn't necessarily want what he's written, although we'll do what he's written. He likes the danger of acting. ↗

— David Morse

#although #danger #likes #necessarily #penn

I make time to write. ↗

— Stanley Tucci

#make #time #write

You learn a lot, writing fiction. ↗

— Penelope Lively

#learn #lot #writing #you

I've made this decision not to talk to the press about anything that's gone on in my life, but just to write music about it. They can interpret it themselves. ↗

— Bijou Phillips

#anything #decision #gone #i #interpret

Had Mary Shelley fretted so? Maybe yes, maybe no. She’d begun her classic work on a dare. Had culled a dream to bring it into being. But it was not lost on Laura that the story might be a prolonged exercise in Shelley’s personal terrors. The subtitle of the work was 'Prometheus Unbound,' and Laura wondered if Shelley herself was not Prometheus in the form of the wandering monster, who desperately sought love and acceptance but was ultimately driven to face an icy landscape that seemed almost fantastical—the way our own subconscious could be, white and frozen-slippery. ↗

— L.L. Barkat

#mary-shelley #writers #writing #dreams

I'm always writing, even when I'm not at my desk. I write on my hands. I used to write on my kids' hands, too, but they don't let me any more. When I'm driving I sometimes write all the way up my arms. ↗

— Jodi Picoult

#any #arms #desk #driving #even