Quote

I decided that if I was never going to sell anything as long as I lived, I might as well do what I want to do 'cause then at least I would've done what I wanted to do in life. What's that worth?

Janet Fitch

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Janet Fitch
Age: 68
Born: 1955
Born: November 9
Author
Journalist
Novelist
University Teacher
Writer
LA
California
Janet Elizabeth Fitch
Never
Wanted
Sells
Would
Wells
Lived
Life
Might
Decided
Well
Worth
Done
Cause
Writing
Least
Going
Causes
Long
Anything
Sell

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Love could never bloom in a concrete block room.
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Appealing to the five senses is the feature that will always set writing apart from the visual media. A good writer will tell us what the world smells like, what the textures are, what the sounds are, what the light looks like, what the weather is.
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like a kid kicked out of class. humiliated and free.
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Her fingers moved among barnacles and mussels, blue-black, sharp-edged. Neon red starfish were limp Dalis on the rocks, surrounded by bouquets of stinging anemones and purple bursts of spiny sea urchins.
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Wasn't that the way it always was? You didn't know, you couldn't tell, you just let it happen... Perhaps they didn't know themselves. Sometimes the line was very fine.
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I imagined my soul taking in these words like silicated water in the Petrified Forest, turning my wood to patterned agate. I liked it when my mother shaped me this way. I thought clay must feel happy in the good potter's hand.
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I've been depressed many times in my life. But under it all I'm an optimist.
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The sound of her laughter was sticky as sap, the smell of night-blooming jasmine soft as a milk bath.
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What is real is always worth it.
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I felt like time was a great sea, and I was floating on the back of a turtle, and no sails broke the horizon.
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What can she possibly teach you, twenty seven names for tears?
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Being in the library is so addictive for me that I really have to exercise self-control so I can get some writing done at home.
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You paid for every second of beauty you managed to steal.
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Beauty was empty as a gourd, vain as a parakeet. But it had power. It smelled of musk and oranges and made you close your eyes in a prayer.
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this was the wonderful thing about strangers. they were big blank pieces of paper, you could draw watever you like on their impresionable surfaces
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The best you'll ever do is to understand yourself, know what it is that you want, and not let the cattle stand in your way.
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Death like a lover, caressing him, promising him peace, running its fingers through his hair, its tongue in his ear. She put her own two fingers in her mouth. Im so sorry. And pulled the trigger
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Let me tell you a few things about regret...There is no end to it. You cannot find the beginning of the chain that brought us from there to here. Should you regret the whole chain, and the air in between, or each link separately as if you could uncouple them? Do you regret the beginning which ended so badly, or just the ending itself?
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Your protagonist is your reader’s portal into the story. The more observant he or she can be, the more vivid will be the world you’re creating. They don’t have to be super-educated, they just have to be mentally active. Keep them looking, thinking, wondering, remembering.
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A womans mistakes are different from a girls
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