He Pulled Away, But His Eyes Held

We Were Always Getting Away With Something, Which Implied That Someone Was Always Watching Us, Which Meant That We Were Not Alone In This World.

When She Saw My Messy Desk, She Said She Was The Same Way, And There Was No Dust On The Tv, And I Was Easy To Love. People Just Need A Little Help Because They Are So Used To Not Loving. It's Like Scoring The Clay To Make Another Piece Of Clay Stick To It.

I Was A Lot Dumber When I Was Writing The Novel. I Felt Like Worse Of A Writer Because I Wrote Many Of The Short Stories In One Sitting Or Over Maybe Three Days, And They Didn't Change That Much. There Weren't Many, Many Drafts. That Made Me Feel Semi-brilliant And Part Of A Magical Process. Writing The Novel Wasn't Like That. I Would Come Home Every Day From My Office And Say, "well, I Still Really Like The Story, I Just Wish It Was Better Written." At That Point, I Didn't Realize I Was Writing A First Draft. And The First Draft Was The Hardest Part.

The Life You Live In Front Of An Audience Is Like An Altered State - It's Not Totally Real. I'm Always, Even In The Course Of One Day, Trying To Find Ways To Balance Both Sides.

I Suppose The Daily Disciplines Are Just A Reflection Of The Qualities Of My Inner World - A Mixture Of Paralysis And Terror And A Lighter, Freer, Kind Of Rebellious Woman. So Those Are Just Constantly Pushing Against Each Other, And That's Played Out In Every Area Of My Life.