Caroline B. Cooney Quotes

I decided to write short stories because they got rejected quicker.

Breakfast was only worth having when somebody else made it for you.

People think they own time. They have watches and clocks and digital pulses. But they are wrong. Time owns them.

People nearly always believe, and are willing to back it up with weapons and cruelty, that their religion and way of life is better than the other person's

I approach serious subjects, and I like to have the good guys win and have the parents among the good guys

My favorite book is always the one I'm working on at the moment

I love writing and do not know why it is considered such a difficult, agonizing profession.

If you write a story based on a real person, you're trapped by the details of the real person and his life. It gets in the way of writing your own story.

Actually my first eight books were historical novels, but they were never published

I wrote eight full-length adult novels in my twenties. None of them were published

in Los Angeles ... was the thinking-est crowd on earth: how to get ahead, how to mold a better body, how to have a better relationship, how to score, earn, fight, win, get published, be a star.

But sometimes, in tight corners, when your back is against the wall and the world is against you, you have to fight back in unexpected ways.

What more can life hold, than to know that because of your story, somebody out there has decided to read again!

I'm one of the lucky writers: plots come easily to me

I believe my readers are crazy about their parents and want to be just like them when they grow up

Guys with nice person names try to be sympathetic.

Lying on the front passenger seat, as if it didn't matter, was Rose's Diary. It Mattered.

I believe my voice is pretty much the same. I've written 75 books, so I'm better at it now than I was earlier in my career

When in doubt, shut up.

She had gradually changed her name. "Jane" was too dull. Last year, she'd added a "y", becoming Jayne, which had more personality.

But I found my family. I found the right thing to do. I found the way home.

Seventh grade had a full complement of creeps, weirdos, future criminals, and nerds.

She had never had a daydream that dreamed itself, like nightmares. That crawled out of her brain like a creature of the dark. A daymare.

She had a sense of herself being brain dead: running on tubes and machines.

She was a mind floating in an ocean of confusion.

If I were a seagullI wouldn't have to stick aroundIf people argued- I would fly off, swerve, wheel, dip, scream.a thousand wings of company if I have friendstwo strong wings of my ownIf I don't