So long as readers keep reading and my publishers keep publishing, I plan to keep on writing. I'd have to be an idiot to be burnt-out in this job.
Lee ChildRead
Male authors always take care to make their heroes at least one inch taller than they are, and considerably more muscular. Just as female authors give their heroines better hair and slimmer thighs.
Interpretation
This quote humorously reflects on how authors often exaggerate the physical traits of their characters.
Lee Child's quote highlights the tendency of male and female authors to embellish the physical attributes of their protagonists, suggesting that there's an inherent desire to create idealized versions of themselves or to meet societal standards of beauty. This exaggeration serves both to entertain readers and to play into the tropes prevalent in literature, poking fun at the unrealistic portrayals of characters in fiction.
In practice
In a discussion about character development during a writing workshop.
So long as readers keep reading and my publishers keep publishing, I plan to keep on writing. I'd have to be an idiot to be burnt-out in this job.
People, Reacher was certain about. Dogs were different. People had freedom of choice. If a man or a woman ran snarling toward him, they did so because they chose to. They were asking for whatever they got. His response was their problem. But dogs were different. No free will. Easily misled. It raised an ethical problem. Shooting a dog because it had been induced to do something unwise was not the sort of thing Reacher wanted to do.
Reacher said, "So here's the thing Brett. Either you take your hand off my chest, or I'll take it off your wrist.
The way to write a thriller is to ask a question at the beginning, and answer it at the end.
It gives me some kind of chance to survive the night." "How are those better odds? If you come back with me, you're guaranteed to survive the night." "No," Reacher said. "If I come back with you, I'm guaranteed to die of shame.
Nobody likes to see a stupid guy wise up.
I want to give a really BAD party. I mean it. I want to give a party where there’s a brawl and seductions and people going home with their feelings hurt and women passed out in the cabinet de toilette. You wait and see.
Somewhere around the place I've got an unfinished short story about Schrodinger's Dog; it was mostly moaning about all the attention the cat was getting.
I play the guitar. I taught myself how to play the guitar, which was a bad decision... because I didn't know how to play it, so I was a shitty teacher. I would never have went to me.
Absurdity is what I like most in life, and there's humor in struggling in ignorance. If you saw a man repeatedly running into a wall until he was a bloody pulp, after a while it would make you laugh because it becomes absurd.
"Multiple exclamation marks," he went on, shaking his head, "are a sure sign of a diseased mind."
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