Leaving Things Behind And Starting Again Is

I Was Aware, In Those Early Days Of Motherhood, That My Behaviour Was Strange To The People Who Knew Me Well. It Was As Though I Had Been Brainwashed, Taken Over By A Cult Religion. And Yet This Cult, Motherhood, Was Not A Place Where I Could Actually Live. Like Any Cult, It Demanded A Complete Surrender Of Identity To Belong To It.

How Can There Be So Many Mothers In The World But So Little Sense Of What It Might Be To Become One?

Childhood, After All, Is Not An Ending, But Rather A State Full Of Potent Curiosity.

As Writers Go, I Have A Skin Of Average Thickness. I Am Pleased By A Good Review, Disappointed By A Bad. None Of It Penetrates Far Enough To Influence The Thing I Write Next.

To Become A Mother Is To Learn A Whole Language - To Relearn It, Perhaps, As It Was The Tongue To Which We Were Born - And Hence Gain Entrance To A Forgotten World Of Comprehension.