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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.

Kim Edwards

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Kim Edwards
Age: 66
Born: 1958
Born: May 4
Author
Novelist
Writer
Killeen
Texas
Thing
Work
Reception
Control
Create
Impossible
Experience
Writing

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That there were other worlds, invisible, unknown, beyond imagination even, was a revelation to him.
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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.
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Photography is all about secrets... The secrets we all have and will never tell.
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After all these years, I feel so free. Who knows where I might fly?
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You missed a lot of heartache, sure. But David, you missed a lot of joy.
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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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It's good to be in love.
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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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He wished he had some kind of X-ray vision for the human heart.
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She had died at age twelve, and by now she was nothing but the memory of love-- nothing, now, but bones.
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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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I love to swim, and I love being near water.
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She saw herself moving through another life, an exotic, difficult, satisfying life.
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The city of Pittsburgh gleaming suddenly before her . . . so startling in its vastness and its beauty that she had gasped and slowed, afraid of losing control of the car
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Either things grow and change or they die.
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The thing is, I used to like that: feeling special because I knew something no one else did. It's a kind of power, isn't it, knowing a secret? But lately I don't like it so much, knowing this. It's not really mine to know, is it?
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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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Once, this whole world had been hidden beneath a shallow sea.
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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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Lately, the world felt fragile, like a blown egg, as if it might shatter beneath a careless touch.
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