You don’t market-research a novel; you really are writing it for yourself. It’s a hobby, in many ways. The problem becomes what you do when you’re confronted by criticism. You just don’t listen to it.
BRET EASTON ELLISI don’t really need to pretend, because it’s who I am, an emotional vampire. I’ve just come to expect it. Vampires are real. That I was born this way. That I feed off of other people’s real emotions. Search for this night’s prey. Who will it be?
More Bret Easton Ellis Quotes
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That’s how I became the damaged party boy who wandered through the wreckage, blood streaming from his nose, asking questions that never required answers.
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I don’t know why I write what I write.
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Open the hood of a car and it will tell you something about the people who designed it, is just one of many phrases I’m tortured by.
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And though the coldness I have always felt leaves me, the numbness doesn’t and probably never will. this relationship will probably lead to nothing… this didn’t change anything. I imagine her smelling clean, like tea.
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I kept staring into the blackness of the woods, drawn into the darkness as I always had been. I suddenly realized how alone I was. (But this is how you travel, the wind whispered back, this is how you’ve always lived.)
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Everyone I know who is successful has issues with their father, regardless of whether it was sports or business or entertainment.
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Do you know what Ed Gein said about women?’ […] ‘”When I see a pretty girl walking down the street I think two things.
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Exploitation is a harsh word, I know that, but on a certain level, to me that is the central Hollywood story.
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Why was I holding on to something that would never be mine? But isn’t that what people do?
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My mask of sanity was a victim of impending slippage. This was the bone season for me and I needed a vacation.
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Women aren’t very bright,” Rip says. “Studies have been done.
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People just… disappear,” he says. “The Earth just opens up and swallows people,” I say, some what sadly, checking my Rolex. “Eerie.” Kimball yawns, stretching. “Really eerie.” “Ominous.” I nod my agreement. “It’s just”- he sights, exasperated- “futile.
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I don’t want to care. If I care about things, it’ll just be worse, it’ll just be another thing to worry about. It’s less painful if I don’t care.
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There’s no use in denying it: this has been a bad week. I’ve started drinking my own urine.
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I really believe that readers are smart and sophisticated enough to realize that the author is not the narrator of his novels.
BRET EASTON ELLIS