...clatter of a typwriter suggests that you're actually building something.

But I don't distinguish between being laughed with, and laughed at. I'll take either.

There are certain people in my life who didn't care to be in my book. And so I cut them out. And I had broken up with somebody. And I was, you know, really upset and depressed. And so that was, you know, reasons to keep going.

I tend to show everything I do to my family, to check they won't be offended.

I'm not afraid to write about madness. I always figure that whatever most embarrasses you is something that everyone can relate to, really...because we're just not that different. So if you think, 'Oh my god, this is so embarrassing. I can't possibly talk about that,' and you write about it, the audience is gonna be like, 'that happened to me!

I'm not a reporter but the 'New Yorker' treats everyone like a reporter.

I was just struggling with my inner vachette and pondering the depths of my own inhumanity.