Disclaimer: there’s a danger in getting carried away. The kind of “healthy snobbery” I’m talking about can quickly turn into a highfalutin elitism, which is unhealthy and even destructive.

As I’ve said, art shouldn’t be about self-expression or self-indulgence. Art shouldn’t be about self. The paradox is that art is necessarily created by a Self, and will necessarily draw some measure of attention or consideration to the artist. But the aim ought to be for the thing to draw attention, ultimately, to something other than the Self.

Being a writer doesn’t just mean writing. It means finishing.

“Trash all those books about writing. Just sit down and write the darn book.”

Not only that, even after the book is finished, there’s a good chance that a lot of your friends will never read it. Either they’re not readers, they’re not into the genre, or they just don’t have the time. It’s best not to ask your friends if they’ve read your book because the awkward shuffling of feet is unbearable.

If you wait until the conditions are perfect, you’ll never write a thing.

There are conventions we all recognize, and most popular songs these days fall into some version of that. It’s not a bad place to start, and it’s a tried-and-true way to structure a song.

I’ve spent the last twenty years arranging words, not just with the awareness that someone might read them over my shoulder, but with the intention of having them read. Now, when I write my prayers, when I spot an intense beauty burning at the roadside and am moved to write about it, I obey the compulsion but promptly delete the file. I could fill

when she asked me what kind of books I liked to read, the prevailing feeling I remember is bashfulness, just a few inches shy of outright embarrassment.