I Try Not To Think Too Much

There Is Part Of Me That Longs To Have The Back-to-the-earth Life - Make My Own Bread, Grow My Own Wheat, Just Be Really Self-sufficient - But I Am Not, At The Moment, Willing To Give Up The Luxury Of Modern Life, And Amazing Schools For My Kids, And Things That I've Come To Rely On That Are Parts Of Society.

It's Not Easy To Make Friends When You're An Adult Writer Outside Of Academia, Especially When You Work Alone In A Little Room For Twelve Hours A Day, And So I Wrote Toward What I Most Longed For.

Writing By Hand Is A Way Of Letting Mystery Into My Writing. But I'm Constantly Trying To Figure Out How To Do This Job. It's A Work In Progress.

You Had To Pick Up A Landline To Make Sure Your Best Friend Wore A Matching Outfit To School. I Do Remember People Talking More. Nostalgia Is Dangerous, Though.

I Think Attempting To Make Art Is A Utopian Process In Itself, Definitely. Nothing I Do Is Ever Equal To The Ideas In My Head. You Do The Best You Can, You Do It With Patience And Love, And Then You Give Up. The Moment You Give Up Is When You Know The Book Is Done.