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Large meadows are lovely for picnics and romping, but they are for the lighter feelings. Meadows do not make me want to write.

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I peeled the skin off a grape in slippery little triangles, and I understood then that I would be undressing every item of food I could because my clothes would be staying on.
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The writing I tend to think of as ‘good’ is good because it’s mysterious.
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Idea Mind Quite Side Stretch Trying
That she might not actually know us seemed the humblest thing a mother could admit.
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Actually Admit Humble might Mother Seem She
My eyelids are my own private cave, he murmured. That I can go to anytime I want.
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I’m obsessed with adolescence. I love to write about people in their 20s.
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AIMEE BENDER

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Pouring over me, but it was a different kind, siphoned from a different, and tamer, body of water. I was her darling daughter; Joseph was her it.
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Sometimes, she said, mostly to herself, I feel I do not know my children…
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I give boring people something to discuss over corn.
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Not getting bored of my own story and/or character is one of the main struggles.
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