Brian Lumley Quotations

Now, after 18 years, not a sign of Lovecraft in my work.

A literary critic is someone who can't write, but who loves to show he would have been a wonderful writer if only he could!

Writers are in the entertainment business, and it gives me lots of pleasure to entertain my readers.

But I've found that to talk too much about movies is the kiss of death. If it happens then it happens, is all.

But other vampire stories? Well, no, I really haven't read too many, and I can't say I'm crazy about romantic vampires anyway - to me the vampire is simply an evil monster.

But there's a little guy who sits astride my brain with a whip, and if I'm away from the machine for more than a couple of hours during the day, this little guy's lashing away.

I have friends who read my books in Greek.

I'll know when the ideas aren't fresh anymore. And I'll know when writing doesn't give me a thrill anymore.

If I had killed Crow off I can think of least six novels I would never have written, 400,000 words' worth of very necessary experience.

Now, when I was in the Army, writing was my hobby.

The amazing thing now is that most of those so-called critics who were telling me to find my own voice seem to have lost theirs.

We've got one life and the older we get the more we come to realize how short it is.

And I have to consider myself fortunate, because there are plenty of writers who spend most of a lifetime looking for that certain something without ever finding it.

German readers are much like Brits or Americans: They read for the thrill of it, the occasional shudder down the spine, knowing it's not real - but looking over their shoulders anyway, just in case.

I should think just about every young writer - which I was at the time - would be influenced by HPL. As an American writer of weird fiction, he was at the top of the class.

If, like Harry Keogh, I could talk to the dead - God, there are an awful lot of people I would like to speak to! Not least my father. Being in the army for 22 years, I didnt see enough of him, and I know there are a great many things I could have learned from him.

There are lots of other things that I haven't done, places I haven't seen. So eventually I'll have to find time for those things while there still is time.

But while our parting was mutually acceptable and even expedient, still it was painful. And I would like to think it hurt both of us, for I certainly felt it: a wrenching inside, like some small but improbably necessary organ was no longer in there, that it was missing, torn or fallen out. And at the time I'd thought that was the end of it; what was missing was gone forever

The Army was my bread and butter.

He went on about monsters, sleeping in great caverns underground and especially under the sea, waiting for a chance to take over the surface world.

He commented that maybe I could write a mythos tale for a book he would soon edit, called Tales of the Cthulhu Mythos. Of course I got to work on it right away. Hey, I mean, this should happen to every aspiring writer!