As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake.
AIMEE BENDERAs a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake.
AIMEE BENDERI am not happy, help me — like a message in a bottle sent in each meal to the eater, and I got it. I got the message.
AIMEE BENDERShe is the first gesture that creates a quiet that is full enough to make the baby sleep. My genes, my love, are rubber bands and rope; make yourself a structure you can live inside. Amen.
AIMEE BENDERI felt the crumpled paper that had taken the place of my lungs expand as if released from a fist.
AIMEE BENDERNot getting bored of my own story and/or character is one of the main struggles.
AIMEE BENDERAs soon as you laugh from nerves or make a joke or say something just to say something or get all involved with the bushes, then you blow open a window in your house of desire and it can’t heat up as well. Cold draft comes in.
AIMEE BENDERMom loved my brother more. Not that she didn’t love me – I felt the wash of her love every day.
AIMEE BENDERI admired that stride; it was like he folded space in two with it.
AIMEE BENDERI knew if I ate anything of hers again, it would lkely tell me the same message: help me,
AIMEE BENDERWhile she cut the mushrooms, she cried more than she had at the grave.
AIMEE BENDERYou’re the perfect girl’, he said, rubbing his chin. ‘You expect nothing.
AIMEE BENDERI have had with novel writing, and I have put to bed big chunks of work that just didn’t sustain my interest.
AIMEE BENDERThe writing I tend to think of as ‘good’ is good because it’s mysterious.
AIMEE BENDERWith my hand in his, I looked at all the apartment buildings with rushes of love, peering in the wide streetside windows that revealed living rooms painted in dark burgandies and matte reds.
AIMEE BENDERKissing George was a little like rolling in caramel after spending years surviving off rice sticks.
AIMEE BENDERBefore she knew it was candles, did she think she’d done it herself? With the amazing turns of her hips.
AIMEE BENDER