“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
“Today I fed him right off the bat, and only checked Facebook twice.” — 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 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
“Oh God, for a few who will love me in tiny ways every single day of my flashing existence. For a mere… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“I feign knowledge of writing: that I know something about it, that I should have learned something after all these years, that… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“If a book can save—redeem us from the mediocrity of the mundane—surely, there must be a God.” — 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
“I’ve had a fountain pen surgically implanted in my left index finger to save trouble. My body is tattooed with line upon… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“When I pour a bowl of Uncle Sam’s cereal, I never know if I should stand when I eat, salute it first,… — 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
“I read a book, am vortexed in with no escape; my face contorts, eyelids frost, breath comes short, body longs, heart stop-starts.… — 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
“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
“I suck the words word-dry to me, assimilated orderly at breakeye speed still hard and harder softer then line-lined book-dry ‘til not… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“Writing is making love under a crescent moon: I see shadows of what’s to come, and it’s enough; I have faith in… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“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
“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 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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
“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 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. Reach in… — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
“Today I fed him right off the bat, and only checked Facebook twice.” — Chila Woychik Copy Share Image
“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 Image
