I Kept Staring Into The Blackness Of

When We Sat Down To Eat I Took Inventory Of The People In The Room, And The Remnants Of My Good Mood Evaporated When I Realized How Very Little I Had In Common With Them – The Career Dads, The Responsible And Diligent Moms – And I Was Soon Filled With Dread And Loneliness. I Locked In On The Smug Feeling Of Superiority That Married Couples Give Off And That Permeated The Air – The Shared Assumptions, The Sweet And Contented Apathy, It All Lingered Everywhere – Despite The Absence In The Room Of Anyone Single At Which To Aim This.

I Write Books To Relieve ­myself Of Pain. That's The Prime Motivator To Write. Period.

After A While You Learn That Everything Stops.

Writing A Novel That Works Is An Extremely Difficult Thing To Do. It Requires A Level Of Skill And Dedication That Always Surprises Me.

Disintegration---i'm Taking It In Stride.