“Our first night professionally onstage,” Colbert said, the longtime Second City director Jeff Michalski told them that the most important lesson he could pass on to them was this: “You have to learn to love the bomb.”
“It took me a long time to really understand what that meant,” Colbert said. “It wasn’t ‘Don’t worry, you’ll get it next time.’ It wasn’t ‘Laugh it off.’ No, it means what it says. You gotta learn to love when you’re failing.… The embracing of that, the discomfort of failing in front of an audience, leads you to penetrate through the fear that blinds you. Fear is the mind killer.” (You’re welcome, Dune nerds.)
Who has not asked himself at some time or other: am I a monster or is this what it means to be a person?
Every writer has only one story to tell, and he has to find a way of telling it until the meaning becomes clearer and clearer, until the story becomes at once more narrow and larger, more and more precise and more reverberating.
Russia itself is a mewling, pulsating mass, full of mute madness, which needs perpetually to be described.
It is possible, I suppose, to miss home terribly, not know what home really is anymore, and refuse to go home, all at once.
The readability of many best sellers is much like the edibility of junk food. Agribusiness and the food packagers sell us sweetened fat to live on, so we come to think that’s what food is. Amazon uses the BS Machine to sell us sweetened fat to live on, so we begin to think that’s what literature is.
I believe that reading only packaged microwavable fiction ruins the taste, destabilizes the moral blood pressure, and makes the mind obese. Fortunately, I also know that many human beings have an innate resistance to baloney and a taste for quality rooted deeper than even marketing can reach.
-Ursula K. Leguin
“Sounds like I got whacked in the Niagara Falls…sorry about that.” – http://tinyurl.com/p9c6wtt
Maclean’s reviews Where Bears Roam the Streets:
in Ninth Letter
These are excerpts from the “Cheap Rooms. Low Rates.” project I’m working on with British photographer Brendan Barry. Basically, it’s my stories about his photos of empty hotel rooms: