Writing a novel is one of those modern rites of passage I think that lead us from an innocent world of contentment drunkenness and good humor to a state of chronic edginess and the perpetual scanning of bank statements.
For a long time I thought I could deal with my anger and hostility on my own. But I couldn't. I denied that it had affected me and yet I was so frantic on the inside with other people: I needed to be constantly reassured.
