Now it’s time for Jonathan Fisher to have a few minutes of fame. Page 99 from the paperback edition of The Writer.
“We’re such hypocrites. No one wants a funeral audience of three guys, like Stendhal. That’s why I was relentless, that’s why no matter how many publishers turned me down, no matter how many people told me to stop writing and get a normal job, I didn’t listen.
When the entire world seems to reject you, that’s when your art becomes more important than ever. That’s when you write to live, not the other way around. Continue reading
The title says it all. Page 99 from the paperback edition of my first novel, Jazz.
She looked happy as she danced, twisting and twirling her waist and hips, and bending her legs as if to ride on the sonic waves of the trumpet. It was as if she was controlling the rhythm, as if her movements were the driving force behind that jazz song.
When the tune ended, Amber smiled, a strange, crazy smile, and said, “Will you take me home? Will you stay with me tonight? I don’t want to be alone.” Continue reading