QUOTE : When I am stuck in a book, the feeling is similar. I ask myself what is supposed to happen now. Why is this wrong? Why is what I am writing about this character a lie? How is it possible to lie in fiction? Believe me, it is. When I find the truth I know it. What is that knowing? It is not theoretical. It is emotional. The sentence on the page feels right because it answers a feeling in me, and that feeling is a form of remembering. Art is always made for someone else. That someone is not a known person. She or he has no face, but art is never made in isolation. When I write, I am always speaking to someone, and the book is made between me and that imaginary other.