“Many a book is like a key to unknown chambers within the castle of one’s own self.”

(24 July 2005)
Unfit for Mass Consumption (blog entries), 2005
Context: There are many words and phrases that should be forever kept out of the hands of book reviewers. It's sad, but true. And one of these is "self-indulgent." And this is one of those things that strikes me very odd, like reviewers accusing an author of writing in a way that seems "artificial" or "self-conscious." It is, of course, a necessary prerequisite of fiction that one employ the artifice of language and that one exist in an intensely self-conscious state. Same with "self-indulgent." What could possibly be more self-indulgent than the act of writing fantastic fiction? The author is indulging her- or himself in the expression of the fantasy, and, likewise, the readers are indulging themselves in the luxury of someone else's fantasy. I've never written a story that wasn't self-indulgent. Neither has any other fantasy or sf author. We indulge our interests, our obsessions, and assume that someone out there will feel as passionately about X as we do.

Source: Little Women

True/Slant, "The Most Bizarre E-mail I Have Ever Received" http://trueslant.com/barrettbrown/2010/06/30/the-most-bizarre-e-mail-i-have-ever-received/, 30 June 2010.

Song lyrics, Highway 61 Revisited (1965), Like a Rolling Stone

Aeneis, Book I, lines 889–890.
The Works of Virgil (1697)

1979

Rules 2 Rule