I Wanted To Pull Away From The

In New York I Was Always So Scared Of Saying That I Wrote Fiction. It Just Seemed Like, 'who Am I To Dare To Do That Thing Here? The Epicenter Of Publishing And Writers?' I Found All That Very Intimidating And Avoided Writing As A Response.

Gogol Remembers Having To Do The Same Thing When He Was Younger, When His Grandparents Died...he Remembers, Back Then, Being Bored By It, Annoyed At Having To Observe A Ritual No One Else He Knew Followed, In Honor Of People He Had Seen Only A Few Times In His Life...now, Sitting Together At The Kitchen Table At Six-thirty Every Evening, His Father's Chair Empty, This Meatless Meal Is The Only Thing That Seems To Make Sense.

If I Stop To Think About Fans, Or Best-selling, Or Not Best-selling, Or Good Reviews, Or Not-good Reviews, It Just Becomes Too Much. It's Like Staring At The Mirror All Day.

She Had Listened To Him, Partly Sympathetic, Partly Horrified. For It Was One Thing For Her To Reject Her Background, To Be Critical Of Her Family's Heritage, Another To Hear It From Him.

Pack A Pillow And Blanket And See As Much Of The World As You Can.you Will Not Regret It.