For twenty or so years, I wrote children’s books, largely because I lived in a house with children. When they grew up, I started writing short stories. I like the precision required, the necessity of focusing on small moments and quiet revelations.
Literary Autobiography
I came to writing "late", in my early thirties, though writing fiction had always been a dream, one which for years I shoved to the back of my mind and the bottom of my soul as something that was impractical and indulgent. Also something I’d probably not “succeed” at.
Words Keep Me Alive
Books not only offered me friendship; they also spoke about tragedies that made my own loss seem bearable.
Anne Frank Keeps Me Going
Anne isn’t listening. She doesn’t have time. She’s left already, half-way down the street, her back to me, her hair bobbing. Her shoulders are thin, her sweater threadbare. Her knees are knobby, her hem uneven. One shoe buckle beats against the asphalt. She carries a diary.
Ted Morrissey’s Autobiographical Statement
Those are overt examples of Mary Shelley’s influence, but I know she and her creations seep into my narratives in all kinds of strange ways. Only recently have I recognized that even my current novel in progress, “The Isolation of Conspiracy,” from which “The Artist Spoke” is excerpted, owes a great deal to her.
MoMA Now – Learning to Live Without a Canon
"MoMA Now" includes the works of over four hundred artists. I got seasick at first when I realized that Picasso and Matisse each are represented only a couple of times by my recollection, and Leger and other touchstones once among over four hundred creatives. That means the MoMA curators have blown up the canon.