Friday, 1 January, 2016


“That was enough dialogue for a few pages — he had to get into some fast, red-hot action.

The story flowed like a torrent. The margin bell chimed almost staccato, the roller turned with almost piston-like continuity, the pages sprang up almost like blobs of batter from a pancake skillet. The cigarettes gave up their ghosts, long thin gray ghosts, in a good cause; the mortality rate was terrible.

His train of thought, the story’s lifeline, beer-lubricated but no whit impeded, flashed and sputtered and coursed ahead like lightning in a topaz mist, and the loose fingers and hiccuping keys followed as fast as they could.” — Cornell Woolrich

Photo: Winter timber cut and stacked on Slievereagh in County Limerick, Ireland. The main uses for wood pulp are paper and board. Fiction is a byproduct.

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