I Never Wanted To Be Mainstream As

I Do Wish I Could Write Like Some Of The American Women, Who Can Be Clever And Heartfelt And Hopeful; People Like Lorrie Moore And Jennifer Egan. But Ireland Messed Me Up Too Much, I Think, So I Can't.

I Have No Place Left To Live But In My Own Heart.

There Is Nothing As Tentative As An Old Woman's Touch; As Loving Or As Horrible.

And What Amazes Me As I Hit The Motorway Is Not The Fact That Everyone Loses Someone, But That Everyone Loves Someone. It Seems Like Such A Massive Waste Of Energy -- And We All Do It, All The People Beetling Along Between The White Lines, Merging, Converging, Overtaking. We Each Love Someone, Even Though They Will Die. And We Keep Loving Them, Even When They Are Not There To Love Any More. And There Is No Logic Or Use To Any Of This, That I Can See.

Imagine That You Are Dying. If You Had A Terminal Disease Would You ­finish This Book? Why Not? The Thing That Annoys This 10-weeks-to-live Self Is The Thing That Is Wrong With The Book. So Change It. Stop Arguing With Yourself. Change It. See? Easy. And No One Had To Die.