On Palm Sunday, Jesus rides into town on the back of a mule while locals strew pine boughs in his path because there is a shortage of palm fronds. He and the disciples ski most of the week but Friday...
Clyde tossed the loop over the moose's head where it slipped down onto her neck and then he took off south. The moose reared up on her hind legs in a Hi Ho Silver maneuver. Folks back on the lodge deck reached for their cell phones. That's the American way to handle a crisis nowadays. Grab a phone, first.
A student, a teacher, a principal and the governor of North Carolina were lost in the southwest desert for three days and nights. The food ran out, then the water ran out. They had no internet service. They knew that without water they would surely die....
After a few days of sitting there like an African violet in need of sunlight, I get up and fix a pot of Kenya AA coffee. Then I pop Shane into the DVD player. It's a scientific fact that a person cannot remain in the dumps throughout a full viewing of Shane.
Jim Harrison has a list of writers who committed suicide within a month of finishing a novel. Last I heard, he had 35 names. It goes along with the postpartum metaphor. You've been holding the universe and your body together by sheer will for so long, that when you allow yourself to let go, you tend to let go of everything at once and the results can be messy.
I knew for certain I would never die in the middle of a book. Others may, but I'm not about to bite the big one until I read The End of whichever story I'm consuming at the moment. Remembrance of Things Past comes in seven volumes and I figured, with time out for recreational reading, it would take a year to read each volume, so I had just given myself seven more years to live.
Phil said, "We called a motel and the man there said they were full, and so was ever'body else. We don't want to be any fuss, but your daddy said that if we ran into trouble, you might put us up for a night." "Or two," said Eustacia.
Did you ever wonder why certain mid-major to major studios seem to receive so many more Oscar nominations than others? The answer in some -- but God knows not all -- cases is that they pay for them. Not directly, of course. Oscar voters cannot be bribed. But Golden Globe voters can. And Golden Globe winners often win Oscar nominations.
If you go on a book tour, I would advise against behaving like a jerk. The media escorts gossip. With a minimum of prodding, they dish the dirt. Jeffrey Archer is a legend for his bad behaviour. Next most arrogant, rude and demanding are the editors from the Chicken Soup for the Soul series. Think about that.
Fiction writers write a series of lies that add up to Truth. Capital T. Nonfiction writers write a series of facts that add up to a point of view, if you are kind, and a lie, if you are tacky. I write novels, which means my lies are Truth. Bill O'Reilly's lies are lies. Your sanity depends on your ability to tell the difference.
I know you are all on virtual tenterhooks about the state of my colon, so here is the report: As I was lying on the skinny hospital bed on wheels, slowly rising out of the anesthesia, the curtain parted and in floated the angel of the Lord. The angel saith (in a New Orleans accent): "Your doctor messed up. He ripped you a new anal cavity."
If you plan to work in the movie business you must accept that everyone lies and it's normal behaviour and your job is to figure out what they really mean. Richard Price once said, " 'Thank you,' in Hollywood, means 'You're fired'." It is my experience, the studios said "Thank you," but the producers said nothing.
If I'd known where Brad Pitt lived I could have boxed up his mail and taken it to him. It would have made a nice icebreaker with Jennifer Aniston. (This was ten years ago.) But I didn't know and I didn't think they wanted the mail anyway, so I did what any other normal American would have done with a pile of unsolicited mail addressed to Brad Pitt -- I opened it.
For much of my youth, I lived outdoors. I figured that's the price you pay for chasing your own dream instead of someone else's. Lord knows, I'd rather write than pee indoors. Nowadays, it's called being homeless but back then it was living outside and was a perfectly respectable way to make time for doing what you loved to do.
I'm at the stage in my career where public shunning might do me good, so here is my take on literary copulation. I would advise skipping the thrusting manhood or angry urethras and going with emotions. Make the sentences read as poetry -- man on top, iambic, woman on top, trochaic or even serpentine free verse.
I wrote five novels about my problems and then I ran out of problems. I have always thought a novelist with nothing to say should shut up, so I did, waiting patiently for new problems to appear. In the meantime, I wrote screenplays because you don't have to have anything to say to write a movie. You just have to be able to give good meeting.
On our way to Yellowstone the other day, before it closed because of stupidity, we came upon a major bear jam up around Pacific Creek. The token idiot from Utah wandered out in the field for a close-up. Suddenly, the interesting nature lesson became one of those Darwin Award deals.
These self-evident truths were written by Rowdy Talbot, who was the narrator of a book I wrote called Rowdy in Paris. The book is about a cowboy -- Rowdy -- who goes to Paris to retrieve his stolen belt buckle and ends up making France safe for Starbucks.
Do not date a woman whose mother is named after food -- Brownie, Sugar, Honey, Cupcake -- or whose father is named Bubba, Butch, Dutch, or Killer. Consider it a red flag if she sleeps in shoes, curlers, or a car. Or if she has more prescriptions than you.
There are four things I keep nearby at all times, generally in my pocket. 1) A photo of my now six-year-old daughter taken when she was one and in a Chinese orphanage. 2) My Food Stamp card from 1973. 3) A card Julie Sheppard from Wichita, Kansas, gave me after a reading. And 4) this letter.