I'm a lousy journalist.
I knew I'd have to go to work in real estate or something else or I could never finish my novel.
Writers are the lunatic fringe of publishing.
It's astonishing what some women will put up with just to have a warm body. Some of the brightest women I know are just obsessed with that search. It's very sad.
I was 37 years old. I wanted to support myself by writing.
I was dictating to my mother when I was 5.
I'd like to get out of here without having to talk to the producer.
My abiding theme is separations.
The more interesting the 9-to-5 work is, the more it takes away from my real work, which is writing.
It takes far less courage to kill yourself than it takes to make yourself wake up one more time. It's harder to stay where you are than to get out. For everyone but you, that is.
My first book took five years to write and I made $1,000 on it. The second took three years and I made $3,000. All this time I was a housewife being supported by a husband. I was very lucky.