Writing Isn’t Like Sex. Writing Is Sex.

Our minds are regular sex palaces with 24-hour admission.

Courtesy of Dreamstime

Charles Bukowski had sex into his seventies, and he was an ugly man.

“I’m exhausted but fulfilled,” one woman wrote. Sure, she’s fulfilled. She turned herself on for ten hours.

Capote essentially stopped writing after “In Cold Blood” because he was convinced he couldn’t have “good sex” again.

It’s easy to call someone a slut, a lot harder to remember where your thingy goes.

Those people just think they’re having sex. Writing worn-out phrases is the equivalent of faking an orgasm.

I did a poor imitation of Don Draper for 40 years before writing my first novel. I'm currently in the final stages of a children's book. Lucky me.

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