It’s hard to have a relationship in this world. Other people are not the same from day to day. I might wake up next to a woman three days in a row, or three hundred, but I never know if she’ll be there the next morning, or the next hour, or if the world will change completely while I’m not looking. She might even change into another person altogether. I might recognize something in her eyes, or she might not be a woman at all. She might turn into a man. Or a mailbox. Or a region of empty space. Or a feeling. Or a song. I might only recognize her as one recognizes someone in a dream, as in the way something is actually someone, and that someone is actually someone else.
Τσαρς Γιου, “Inventory” (Sorry Please Thank You)
Από συνέντευξη του συγγραφέα (ολόκληρη εδώ):
How do you write your first drafts? With outlines and a pre-planned structure, or by writing free form and letting the story materialize as you type?
It is mostly writing free form. I don’t outline in general. I’ll just type a bunch of words or write a bunch of words long hand, and after a while they start to gain a critical mass, if I’m lucky, and some of the [parts] aggregate into sentences. And then those sentences, if they’re interesting, will just persist. It’s almost like a laboratory environment where I’m growing live cultures, and day after day I’ll go back to the same story and help it grow. And when they grow big enough, they just stick.
A lot of the times, something I thought was going somewhere will just die. And I’ll kind of watch it die because day after day it will just die out. In my mind, what I’m doing with all of these words that eventually combine with others, is like planting a bunch of seeds and seeing which ones will grow and prosper, and hope that they’ll tangle with each other and eventually form some sort of bush.