Ideas aren't magical; the only tricky part is holding on to one long enough to get it written down.
The money can be decent, but I really don't recommend the work-for-hire route as an entry into publishing. Too many things can go wrong.
I think my prose reads as if English were my second language. By the time I get to the end of a paragraph, I'm dodging bullets and gasping for breath.
It's been a long time since I've written old-fashioned sword and sorcery; I'm hoping it's like riding a bicycle.
No one uses a ribbon typewriter any more, but your final draft is not the time to try to wring a few more sheets out of your inkjet cartridge.
My writing has to support more than my research habit, but I love to curl up with a book about some dusty corner of history.
When I'm not writing or tweaking my computer, I do embroidery. When I'm not plunging into the past, tweaking, or embroidering, I'm reading books about history, computers, or embroidery.
I'm one of those writers who, when writing, believes she's god-and that she hasn't bestowed free will on any of her characters. In that sense there are no surprises in any of my books.
During the many centuries that magic, here on this planet, was presumed to have worked, there were at least as many theories as to how magic worked as there were cultures and religions.
That bedrock faith that I could write was what blinded me to attempts to discourage me.
It's possible to become so comfortable with one's style and structure that one ceases to grow.
It took me about 12 years to reach my million-word mark. The challenge now is to continue to challenge myself.
There is nothing that compares to an unexpected round of applause.