Scars Crossed Her Welded Wrists.

What I Do When I Create A Character Is Put In Details From All The People I Know Who Might Be Like That Person, And Then Put In A Huge Amount Of Myself.

Every Letter Was A Love Letter.

She Was A Large, Disordered Woman, Like A Child's Drawing That Didn't Stay Within The Lines.

Depending On The Year Or The Therapist He Was Seeing, He'd Learned To Ascribe Just About Every Facet Of His Character As A Psychological Reaction To His Parents' Fighting: His Laziness, His Overachieving, His Tendency To Isolate, His Tendency To Seduce, His Hypochondria, His Sense Of Invulnerability, His Self-loathing, His Narcissism.

The Zipper Opened All The Way Down Our Spines.