I'm Trying To Be Less

I Have Insane Curiosity As To What Happened In All These Events. I Will Never Know. I'm Not A Researcher. I Don't Possess That Kind Of Mind. I Have A Researcher Who Compiles The Fact Sheets And Chronologies That Allow Me To Write These Big Books Of Mine.

My Guys Are Morally Weak, And They Reach Toward A Tenuous Knowledge Of Self-sacrifice, And Sometimes It's Too Late. I Find That Moving. It's Not A Life I'd Want To Live. But, Then, I'm Not Completely My Books.

"war Gives Men A Plain-and-simple Something To Do ... Women Write Diaries In The Hope That Their Words Will Beckon Fate." It's A Romantic Manifesto.

I Want To Have Enough Data, So I Won't Write Myself Into Thin Air, So That I Can Extrapolate And Give You This Secret Human Infrastructure. The Only Way I Sate My Own Curiosity Is To Create This From Scratch. There Must Be Commanding Love Stories. There Must Be Great Moral Cost.

The 250-page Outline For American Tabloid. The Books Are So Dense. They're So Complex, You Cannot Write Like I Write Off The Top Of Your Head. It's The Combination Of That Meticulousness And The Power Of The Prose And, I Think, The Depth Of The Characterizations And The Risks That I've Taken With Language That Give The Books Their Clout. And That's Where I Get Pissed Off At A Lot Of My Younger Readers.