It Doesn't Ever Occur To You, As

Yes, Writing Is Essential To Me. It's My Way Of Living In The World.

Nobody Would Know Me From My Own Description Of Myself; Which Is Why, When Called Upon (rarely, I Grant) To Provide An Account, I Tailor It, I Adapt, I Try To Provide An Outline That Can, In Some Way, Correlate To The Outline That People Understand Me To Have -- That, I Suppose, I Actually Have, At This Point. But Who I Am In My Head, Very Few People Really Get To See That. Almost None. It's The Most Precious Gift I Can Give, To Bring Her Out Of Hiding.

I've Discovered Over The Years That The Simplest Explanation Is Almost Always The Right One; And That Hunger Of One Kind Or Another - Desire, By Another Name - Is The Source Of Almost Every Sorrow.

There's A Reason Why Trainspotters Are Not Girls, There's A Reason Why There's The Myth Of The Slightly Autistic Male Genius, There's A Reason Why Gertrude Stein Believed That Her Self-presentation Was Male. One Could Argue That Was Susan Sontag Also. The Things That We Associate With Femaleness Are Not The Single-minded, Exclusive Pursuit Of A Vocation, Whether It Be Art Or Anything Else. It Is Not A Model That Is Widespread In Our Culture, It's Not Something We Think Of For Women.

Anyway, These Books I Love, They’re All Books By Men—every Last One Of Them. Because If It’s Unseemly And Possibly Dangerous For A Man To Be Angry, It’s Totally Unacceptable For A Woman To Be Angry. I Wanted To Write A Voice That For Me, As A Reader, Had Been Missing From The Chorus: The Voice Of An Angry Woman.