Writing A Novel Is Not

A Curtain Of Stars, Miles Of Them, Are Scattered, Glowing, Across The Sky And Their Multitude Humbles Me, Which I Have A Hard Time Tolerating. She Shrugs And Nods After I Say Something About Forms Of Anxiety. It's As If Her Mind Is Having A Hard Time Communicating With Her Mouth, As If She Is Searching For A Rational Analysis Of Who I Am, Which Is, Of Course, An Impossibility: There... Is... No... Key.

You Don't Market-research A Novel; You Really Are Writing It For Yourself. It's A Hobby, In Many Ways. The Problem Becomes What You Do When You're Confronted By Criticism. You Just Don't Listen To It.

Exploitation Is A Harsh Word, I Know That, But On A Certain Level, To Me That Is The Central Hollywood Story.

Fear Never Shows Up And The Party Ends Early.

The Numbing Lists Of Things You Were Supposed To Have As An American To Make You Happy, Which Ultimately, Of Course, Don't. Those Aren't The Things That Make You Happy.