Most people are optimists, although they may claim they are not. People who call themselves realists are often the biggest optimists of all.” Reading The Book of Lost Tales by Tolkien, the first book of the twelve in the histories of middle earth. In Tolkien's earliest conception, he creates a magic sun, called "Ur."

While I was listening to this one, I said to a friend on Google Chat, "You know... it's crazy how much Stephen King affects me.

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I confess! I have committed a sin I have avoided reading novels from The Grandmaster writer Stephen King!

The delivery mechanism to my mind is secondary for me as a writer. [...] But I did this once before with a story called Riding the Bullet and I never had so many guys in suits come up to me and ask me questions. But they didn't want to know about the story, they didn't want to know about the process, they wanted to know about the delivery system, but to me that's secondary. [...] I think people will be more interested in the business aspect of [ Ur] than they will in the story. I would never have agreed to it if I didn't think it was a pretty good story. [4] I wish that this was something that more authors understood. It's not enough to tell me a story if I don't like or don't understand the characters in it. It's not enough to craft a complicated or ingenious plot if I can't identify with the people in the story enough to put myself in their place. I have never had an issue with identifying with a King character. I may not like them, but I don't have to like them, because, like real people, they have a life of their own and do with it what they will. What they do is organic and true to their characters, and isn't shaped by King into something fake to fit the storyline.

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This... this is something special. And by special I mean horrible. Not since Dan Brown have I wanted so badly to throw what I was reading across the room. I could not, of course, as I was reading on a Kindle. He also dreamed. No images; only words. Titles! Endless lines of titles, many of them of undiscovered masterpieces. As many titles as there were stars in the sky.” If there were dreams (of pink Kindles, women in roadhouse parking lots, or low men in yellow coats), he did not remember them.”