“Nonfiction. I didn’t choose it as much as it chose me. It squatted and birthed me one raw winter day then jerked… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“I think that’s why I write—the not knowing and the blasted good feeling I get out of it all.” — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“Writing makes me hard, like a fisherman, and brown from the heat. Tossing out and reeling in is a job for visionaries… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“I speak, I speak, and truth at that. Writers are a curious breed: brooding, fickle, alternately loving and hating their work—and each… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“A writer hopes never to offend, but if he must, pray let him offend the gods before the reviewers.” — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“When reading a book, one hopes it doesn’t turn into a painful process. Predictable is bad enough. Laborious is acceptable if the… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“Writing is a beast to tame, an energy to transform. Whip that toad into a prince and French kiss it to life.… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“You want to get your book to press. You rush it through. Revision number twenty—done. Do you really need twenty more? Yes.… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“The Page awaits the Inspiration even as Inspiration roams the world of man, seeking a Page upon which to unfurl itself, body… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“Split your skull—a hatchet works well enough. Take a more delicate instrument—a scalpel, perhaps—and make a hand-sized slit; it doesn’t matter where.… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“This piece of earth I billet grows small. Bullets of time dart past, dropping shards of opportunity at my feet. And until… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“I don’t need to write. Madness or suicide are other options, though not nearly as compelling. But I want to create; I… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“Only seconds slip by without me scrambling for the aid of someone better, more knowledgeable, to walk beside. Writers are good for… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“I see an actress smoking a cigarette in an old Fred McMurray movie. She’s clever and beautiful and manipulative. I feel envy. I suddenly… — Chila Woychik Copy Share
“Support our troops!” we cry, but I say, “Love our veterans!” And when he neglects church, take him cookies anyway. Sing him a song.… — Chila Woychik Copy Share
“The setting sun threatened to consume me—it could have, you know. It would have been a beautiful death with an honorable eulogy: slain by… — Chila Woychik Copy Share
“sunset and evening star hunching and bending sleeping and slipping virus pneumonia coughing and crying hope in the small things heaven looks brighter aching… — Chila Woychik Copy Share
“I was a late bloomer. I was still naïve about what 16 year olds today have known for years. I remember sitting up and… — Chila Woychik Copy Share
“Split your skull—a hatchet works well enough. Take a more delicate instrument—a scalpel, perhaps—and make a hand-sized slit; it doesn’t matter where. Reach in… — Chila Woychik Copy Share
“PLEASE TELL ME YOU KNOW OF SYLVIA PLATH Conventions bleed my soul squeeze me old wear me grey like a headstone in transit. It’s… — Chila Woychik Copy Share
“I don’t want to believe in boxes or one-way relationships; I’m naïve, you see. I’d rather moon the moon than flip off a friend,… — Chila Woychik Copy Share
“God, O God, where art thou? Thou art as distant to me as the lady combing rice in the Yunnan Province of China or… — Chila Woychik Copy Share
“I should have been conceived during Woodstock; it’s in my blood: that burning desire to turn an absolute on its head and see what’s… — Chila Woychik Copy Share
“Only seconds slip by without me scrambling for the aid of someone better, more knowledgeable, to walk beside. Writers are good for that. They… — Chila Woychik Copy Share
“I’m engaged in the dance of the ages and the search for a song to go with it. Though Templeton’s A Veritable Smorgasbord is… — Chila Woychik Copy Share
“This piece of earth I billet grows small. Bullets of time dart past, dropping shards of opportunity at my feet. And until the rift… — Chila Woychik Copy Share
