Over the past week, I’ve been using all the time I would be out drinking to work like a madwoman on freewrites and...
We get it, Shailene Woodley. You’re better than all of us and the only person who will survive the apocalypse because you sleep in a tree.
So a few months ago my ex-boyfriend (we’ll call him B.) decided he wanted to be a writer. I was trying not to be a complete dick about his...
Yesterday, while my grandfather was dying, I led a book group discussion on Rousseau’s Confessions, another man’s attempt to...
I’m a finalist for the L.A. Times Book Prize for Fiction! Alongside my dear friend Lauren Groff, Michael Chabon, Ben Fountain, and Lydia Millet. All of whom are obviously amazing writers.
I’ve never been nominated for anything before.
This is an inelegant response but…I’m pretty fucking psyched.
Book clubs and readings, yoga, sushi, and one of the most searing headaches I’ve had in my life that lasted straight through two business meetings and one dinner. I was not exactly myself that day, but you don’t always get to be yourself. Sometimes you have to be someone else.
I’m drinking too much coffee. All I do is drive everywhere, and when I arrive at my destination, I talk about myself for a while. Still, I am having fun! The response in the book clubs has been intense, to say the least. Everyone has an opinion about these characters. I like hearing what people have to say. Please keep talking to me. I love that people care even a little bit.
My film agents told me they would send me the first season of “Girls” because I do not have cable anymore and I think they pitied me. So that is something to look forward to when I return home.
And finally: Last night’s reading was the jam!