I think so often, especially if the work is perceived of as being drawn from life, the woman, not her book, is reviewed.

If one writes the rules then one can contradict oneself. It's all about rhetoric, about official narratives.

I'm just too lazy. I wish I could be someone that has wild affairs - all of my favorite nonfiction novels are about these wild affairs and postmarital agonistes - but to be honest, I'm someone that doesn't deal well with instability.

My rage and sense of alienation as to how women have been written, have allowed themselves to be written, in so many ways, has political roots.

My writing has always been considered extremely important, even though I make slim-to-no money at it.

The hope in literature is that we are allowed to be imperfect, to write of our imperfection, without being overly critiqued for being unlikeable.

I hope what I do when I draw from other people's lives is pay tribute. To try to understand what it means in our society to be silenced. To try to understand how class and gender intersect with that. To try to understand how being named and classified within the context of psychiatry can intersect with all that, as well.