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It's difficult to write a book where a character is on virtually every page of the book but you cannot refer to his or her gender. it gets rid of every his, her, she and he.

-William Least Heat-Moon

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It's Difficult To Write A Book Where

William Least Heat-Moon

It's difficult to write a book where a character is on virtually every page of the book but you cannot refer to his or her gender. it gets rid of every his, her, she and he.

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    <p style="font-size: 1.2rem; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 10px;">"it&#039;s difficult to write a book where a character is on virtually every page of the book but you cannot refer to his or her gender. it gets rid of every his, her, she and he."</p>
    <footer style="font-size: 1rem; font-weight: bold;">— William Least Heat-Moon</footer>
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Book Writing Character

More From William Least Heat-Moon

She comes to me when she wants to be fed. and after i feed her -- guess what -- she's off to wherever she wants to be in the house, until the next time she gets hungry. she's smart enough to know she can't feed herself. she's actually a very smart cat. she gets loved. she gets adoration. she gets petted. she gets fed. and she doesn't have to do anything for it, which is why i say this cat's taught me more about women, than anything my whole life.

I know when i grew up, it was, if it was daylight outside, get outside. well, now, with the technological age of computers and everything, everyone's inside virtually going everywhere they want to go, virtually having relationships, virtually traveling across the neighborhood, virtually going to that island.

She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. she was beautiful, for the way she thought. she was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. she was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. no, she wasn't beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. she was beautiful, deep down to her soul. she is beautiful.

You cannot hammer a girl into anything. she grows as a flower does, she will wither without sun; she will decay in her sheath as a narcissus will if you do not give her air enough; she might fall and defile her head in dust if you leave her without help at some moments in her life; but you cannot fetter her; she must take her own fair form and way if she take any.

Eventually she came. she appeared suddenly, exactly like she'd done that day- she stepped into the sunshine, she jumped, she laughed and threw her head back, so her long ponytail nearly grazed the waistband of her jeans. after that, i couldn't think about anything else. the mole on the inside of her right elbow, like a dark blot of ink. the way she ripped her nails to shreds when she was nervous. her eyes, deep as a promise. her stomach, pale and soft and gorgeous, and the tiny dark cavity of her belly button. i nearly went crazy.

You must learn her. you must know the reason why she is silent. you must trace her weakest spots. you must write to her. you must remind her that you are there. you must know how long it takes for her to give up. you must be there to hold her when she is about to. you must love her because many have tried and failed. and she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept. and, this is how you keep her.

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