I Spend Far Too Much Time On

You Should Never Read Online Comments If You Want To Keep Thoughts Above The Belt.

I Tell Myself It's A Virtue, My Failure To Sleep In My Own House, Or At All. I Tell Myself That I Spend More Hours Than Most People Aware That I Am Alive, And That Over A Lifetime This Adds Up To More Living, More Aliveness. I Am More Alive Than The Rest Of My Family. Which Is My Greatest Night Fear. Which Is Why I Hunt. I Don't Ever Want To Be More Alive Than They Are.

I Always Think It's Useful To Get An Outside Opinion.

Like Semmering Academy, The Grove School Was A Gothic Pile Of Bricks Run By 1950s-era Chalk Drones, Which Maintained Its Cultural Viability By Perpetuating A Weirdly Seductive Anxiety Throughout Its Community. Mary Herself Was A Victim Of The Seduction; Despite The Trying And Repetitive Emotional Requirements Of Her Job, She Remained Eternally Fascinated By The Wicker-thin Girls And Their Wicker-thin Mothers, All Of Them Favoring Dark Wool Skirts And Macintoshes And Unreadably Far-away Expressions; If She Squinted, They Could Have Emerged Intact From Any Of The Last Seven Decades.

It's Fascinating To Imagine Two Successful Writers In One House. But When You Think About It, It Isn't Very Unusual. In Fact, So Many Writers Have Writer Spouses.