Every few years, I think, 'Maybe now I'm finally smart enough or sophisticated enough to understand 'Ulysses.'' So I pick it up and try it again. And by page 10, as always, I'm like, 'What the hell?'
In order to write novels for a living - it's not pathological, but I do think and worry and brood and fidget about stuff that I'm working on.
The pen is mightier than the sword, and is considerably easier to write with.

