We hope that this verdict will go a long way in dispelling this 18-month science fiction argument that they used.

You look like the vamp who bled the cat.

Oh no, real life is escape. The great terrors, the horrors–we hope–of your life come from reading fiction.

How have people come to be taken in by The Phenomenon of Man? We must not underestimate the size of the market for works of this kind [pseudoscience/’woo’], for philosophy-fiction. Just as compulsory primary education...

Most stories are not about peoplebut about life, an addiction like the rest of themthat destroys you even as you love it,but you love it anyway and can never get enough.

The problem with a lot of people who read only literary fiction is that they assume fantasy is just books about orcs and goblins and dragons and wizards and bullshit. And to be fair, a...

Grayson: Fiction is just a lie anyway.Brianna: But it’s not – it’s a different kind of truth – it would be your truth at the time of the writing, wouldn’t it?

You deserved it.

It is not my job to explain the story or understand the story or reduce it to a phrase or offer it as being a story about any specific person, place, or thing. My job...

Sweet as sugar. Let’s get back to why you won’t let me put my hands on you.

Everyday, God gives us the sun- and also one moment in which we have the ability to change everything that makes us unhappy. Everyday, we try to pretend that we haven’t perceived that moment, that...

From Flood, Flash, and Pheromones–coming soon:As Cassie’s body hurled toward him in the swirl, she realized the brevity of the situation. This was it. This was the moment that determined whether she lived to see...

But then, that’s the beauty of writing stories—each one is an exploratory journey in search of a reason and a shape. And when you find that reason and that shape, there’s no feeling like it.”[Peter...

As he drove away from his handiwork, knowing he’d left no survivors, the killer looked at the rising smoke and gave himself a pat on the back for another assignment well done…

Science fiction writers, I am sorry to say, really do not know anything. We can’t talk about science, because our knowledge of it is limited and unofficial, and usually our fiction is dreadful.

What are we, Charlie’s Angels?

…all I knew were novels. It gave me pause, for a moment, that all my reference points were fiction, that all my narratives were lies.

As a reader you recognise that feeling when you’re lost in a book? You know the one – when whatever’s going on around you seems less real than what you’re reading and all you want...

I knew nothing of death, and, for some unexplainable reason, I was beginning to feel guilty for that. -Jessica

I wonder, what kind of life would I have had if it hadn’t been for my mother’s tea-and-cookie parties? Perhaps it’s because of them that I’ve never thought of women as my enemies, as territories...

As I pen these words to leave a lasting record, I wonder myself where it all began.

I get tired of hearing some science-fiction fans saying that characterization isn’t important in SF. In point of fact, I think it’s probably more important in SF than in mainstream fiction. After all, if the...

A good friend will help you move, but a true friend will help you move a body.

If you want to know the reality, just subtract the things that you think are real from your mind. Now the remaining is the reality.

I once believed that life was a gift. I thought whatever I wanted I would someday possess. Is that greed, or only youth? Is it hope or stupidity? As far as I was concerned the...

Maryanne Burkhard and I have set up a B W Wrighthard profile on Goodreads. If any of you would like to friend us there, we would really appreciate it. And if you’re feeling really generous...

The days I’d passed with my mom before she died were still there, it seemed, seared into the corners of my heart.The atmosphere of the station brought it all back. I could see myself running...

Writing is the one thing I know I will never grow tired of in life; the one thing I could do until the day I die and still feel like I haven’t done enough.

Being a single parent on a part-time basis is tricky to navigate. That is what a racing widow has to do.

Ranerio wrapped his hand around mine, guiding my fingers like Lucius had done when he’d shown me the latch behind the dressing-room door mirror. But while the warrior I loved had been offering me an...

Cynicism can blind one to subtler virtues

Although the villagers rose with the sun to work the fields, attend to the animals, bake their bread, and begin their long list of chores, for me, Leya Truelong, this was a day like no...

I believe a family just isn’t complete without skeletons. My dearest momma clean bit off my daddy’s nose right around the time they divorced.

Darkness crept through. Shadows pried at doors, teased dull edges of recollections that never quite took hold. Memories that would have shriveled under the blinding sun of daylight. And reason.

Is it possible that the Pentateuch could not have been written by uninspired men? that the assistance of God was necessary to produce these books? Is it possible that Galilei ascertained the mechanical principles of...

Fiction shows us the past as well as the present moment in mortal light; it is an art served by the indelibility of our memory, and one empowered by a sharp and prophetic awareness of...

I refuse to live in a constant fighting match, Landon. It will not do!’ ‘And I’ve tried living without you, and it just won’t do!

Her eyes were a rich dark brown that were so deep, they reminded me of my sleepless nights, awake, staring into complete darkness. I felt compelled to look deeper, searching for something inside her, but...

Good fiction’s job is to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.

Respect the dead, learn from them, do not follow or avenge them.

For truth is always strange; stranger than fiction.

Fiction may amuse us, but reality instills lessons to be imbibed through experience; to ‘live’ this stark reality called ‘life’ as a blessing, whereas some foolishly waste it by following fiction and fictitious characters.

By the time I was sixteen I had read many books and I had become a freethinker.

Hell, he now understood, went beyond simple torture. Hell inflicted agony with intermittent reprieves to maintain the hope of peace. Hell was not endless dark, but rare rays of sunlight to keep one’s eyes longing...

Beauty as we feel it is something indescribable; what it is or what it means can never be said.

The last image I registered was Ethan and my hand – linked, bound and unbreakable.

It is ourselves we encounter whenever we invent fictions.

It was a strange feeling, like touching a void.

Kate stops grinding the knife and begins to pass it over the length of the stone. Turning her wrist, she pulls the blade, swiping one side after the other, honing it to a fine edge....

…there are books…which you can’t tell people about, books so special and rare and yours that advertising your affection feels like a betrayal.