Quote

Writing is always a process of discovery—I never know the end, or even the events on the next page, until they happen. There’s a constant interplay between the imagining and shaping of the story.

Kim Edwards

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Kim Edwards
Age: 66
Born: 1958
Born: May 4
Author
Novelist
Writer
Killeen
Texas
Imagining
Never
Process
Page
Next
Discovery
Happens
Ends
Pages
Stories
Constant
Writing
Events
Interplay
Even
Happen
Shaping
Always
Story

More quotes by Kim Edwards

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Twin threads ran through her: fear and excitement.
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Each letter has a shape, she told them, one shape in the world and no other, and it is your responsibility to make it perfect.
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Away from the bright motion of the party, she carried her sadness like a dark stone clenched in her palm.
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You can't spend the rest of your life tiptoeing around to try and avert disaster. It won't work. You'll just end up missing the life you have.
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You missed a lot of heartache, sure. But David, you missed a lot of joy.
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She saw herself moving through another life, an exotic, difficult, satisfying life.
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Then she had been a fiancee, a young wife, and a mother, and she had discovered that these words were far too small ever to contain the experience.
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It seemed there was no end at all to the lies a person could tell, once she got started.
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He wished he had some kind of X-ray vision for the human heart.
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Its impossible to control the reception of your work - the only thing you can control is the experience of writing itself, and the work you create.
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It wasn't right. He knew that, but it was like falling: once you started you couldn't stop until something stopped you.
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It's good to be in love.
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But she had felt since childhod that her life would n ot be ordinary. A moment would come- she would know it when she saw it- and everything would change.
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Grief, it seemed, was a physical place.
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He'd kept this silence because his own secrets were darker, more hidden, and because he believed that his secrets had created hers.
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After all these years, I feel so free. Who knows where I might fly?
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He could hardly imagine anymore what his life would be without the weight of his hidden knowledge. He'd come to think of it as a kind of penance. It was self-destructive, he could see that, but that was the way things were. People smoked, they jumped out of airplanes, they drank too much and got into their cars and drove without seat belts.
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Either things grow and change or they die.
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Norah watched him, serious and utterly absorbed in his task, overcome by the simple fact of his existence.
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Lately, the world felt fragile, like a blown egg, as if it might shatter beneath a careless touch.
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