Nonfiction, qua label, is nothing more or less than a very flexible (easily breakable) frame that allows you to pull the thing away from narrative and toward contemplation, which is all I've ever wanted.

Resolution and conclusion are inherent in a plot-driven narrative.

I don’t know what’s the matter with me, why I’m so adept at distance, why I feel so remote from things, why life feels like a rumor.

Genre is a minimum security prison.

Our culture is obsessed with real events because we experience hardly any.

With relatively few exceptions, the novel sacrifices too much, for me, on the altar of plot.

I'm wonderfully self-lacerating, probably to my character's detriment. I'm terribly open to critique.