I like to work fast. I despise not having the right tool or, worse, knowing I have it but not being able to find it. It's a pointless delay that wrecks my pace - and mood.
For whatever reason, whenever I'm having a get-together, I'll turn on my projector and play YouTube videos of 'Russian driving fails.' Russians all have dashboard cameras in their cars, so there are all these videos of crazy wrecks and people almost getting hit in the street. It's a conversation starter, for sure.
It's short-track racing. You're going to get that and it's going to happen. I don't know why everybody thought it was the end of the world when wrecks were going to happen. Like I said, with close-quarter racing like that it's going to get heated.
Novel writing wrecks homes.
The floor of Christendom and elsewhere is littered with wrecks made by old prophets. God won't stand nonsense from any man. Every man has to choose between Christ and Barabbas, and every Christian between God and some old prophet.
Every barbershop has a guy who wrecks shop every time he comes in. He has the whole barbershop laughing. That doesn't mean he's a comedian.
I am not like Stephen King, who writes one book, then writes another. I finish a book and go off and... look for wrecks. Then, six months later, I might start another book.
People have said I belong in a rubber room because I look for wrecks, and when I find them, I just do a survey. I don't look for treasure or artifacts.
Well, I've been in a few car wrecks.
People are beautiful wrecks.
