Charles de Lint
Charles de Lint
Charles de Lintis a Canadian writer of Dutch origins. In 1974 he met MaryAnn Harris, and married her in 1980. They live in Canada...
NationalityCanadian
ProfessionWriter
Date of Birth22 December 1951
CountryCanada
nice years two
The thing I like so much about short stories is that there isn't as much of an investment of time so I'm free to experiment more. If it doesn't work out, I've only lost a week or two of work. If I screw up a novel I've lost at least a year's worth of work. But the nice thing is that those experiments with short stories can be carried over to novels when the experiments do work.
song years space
An now the silences come in a single lifetime, in a single year... when species die, leaving a silent space in the world song that can never be filled.
dark night years
I'm a writer and this is what I do no matter what name we put to it. Year by year, the world is turning into a darker and stranger place than any of us could want. This is the only thing I do that has potential to shine a little further than my immediate surroundings. For me, each story is a little candle held up to the dark of night, trying to illuminate the hope for a better world where we all respect and care for each other.
years stories goes-on
There are no happy endings... There are no endings, happy or otherwise. We all have our own stories which are just part of the one Story that binds both this world and Faerie. Sometimes we step into each others stories - perhaps just for a few minutes, perhaps for years - and then we step out of them again. But all the while, the Story just goes on.
writing use different
Writing music uses a whole different process that involves a lot of noodling and just seeing what comes.
white differences black
You know how we'd get along better? If everybody'd just remember how we're all related. White, black, Asian, skin. No difference. All the bloodlines go back to that one old mama in Africa.
honesty lying stories
I've always believed the lies we use to make our fictions reveal the truth with far more honesty than any history or herstory or life story.
darkness stranger innocent
I'm not...' Angharad began, but then she thought. Not what? Not a bad person? Perhaps. But had she never known anger? Never held unkind thoughts? The stranger's observation was valid. No one was innocent of darkness.
notebook running writing
I write on a computer, but I've run the complete gambit. When I was very young, I wrote with a ballpoint pen in school notebooks. Then I got pretentious and started writing with a dip pen on parchment (I wrote at least a novel-length poem that way). Moved on to a fountain pen. Then a typewriter, then an electric self-correct. Then someone gave me a word processor and I was amazed at being able to fit ten pages on one of those floppy discs.
magic invisible stills
That's the thing about magic; you've got to know it's still here, all around us, or it just stays invisible for you.
way too-much odd
There was too much going on here -- too much that strayed from odd all the way over into seriously weird.
writing play careers
I never even considered writing a career option. I just liked the play of words. I was certainly interested in story, but the stories I was telling then were in narrative verse and prose poems, short and succinct, except for one novel-length poem written in narrative couplets.
real knowing want
The real trouble comes from not knowing what we really want in the first place.
sight world language
Even, she thought, even without the gift of witchsight, there was more beauty to be found in the world than could ever be snared in language or music. And with the sight...