From the Office of Admissions

Let’s not call them confessions, okay? Because that reeks of guilt. And for many of the following, I feel no guilt whatsoever.

I admit…

• I am immediately turned off by best-selling books because I hold fast to an erroneous belief that for something to be popular, it must cater to the lowest common denominator and I prefer to believe I am far above that line.
• I am not above that line.
• I pick up a book based on its cover and only rule out a possible purchase if the blurb on the back bores me to tears. Otherwise, I’ll buy it and give the author every opportunity to surprise me.
• I read more “debut” novels than any other category and am frequently pleasantly surprised.
• I believe the sophomore slump for writers is usually more about lack of time to write than lack of talent.
• I believe some writers only have one good book in them.
• Great writing intimidates me to the point of wanting to give up.
• Great writing inspires me to superglue my ass to the chair and write until I get it right.
• I’m constantly conflicted by great writing. And I spend way too much money on superglue.
• If people ask me what my favorite book is, I tell them “Tender Is the Night” when I want to sound smart and well-read, or “Go, Dog. Go!” if I just want them to stop asking me questions.
• I haven’t read Anna Karenina, War & Peace, The Brothers Karamazov or anything by Danielle Steel.
• I have at least 15 books sitting around my apartment (or on the back seat of my car) that I recently purchased and haven’t yet read. I will buy at least 15 more books before I’ve read half of the ones I already own.
• I am infinitely more bothered by poor characterization or lazy plotting than misspellings or other typos.
• I am quick to fall in love with a writer whose book makes me remember what it’s like to feel the deepest feelings of longing and loss. Then I stalk her with charming and clever emails. When presented with a restraining order, I am initially disappointed to discover that the language in the restraining order is boilerplate and not from the writer’s pen. At first, this hurts. But then I realize she is only choosing this approach because she knows the distance it creates between us will inevitably cause me to remember what it’s like to feel the deepest feelings of longing and loss. She is so clever. I love her.
• Sometimes I believe it when people refer to me as “brilliant.”
• Not really.
• I love my job, even though it occupies my brain 24/7.
• I have no idea what I’m doing 23/7.
• The best measure I have of whether or not my novel-in-progress is any good comes when I go back to re-read an old section and find myself wondering who’s been tampering with my file and re-writing all the crap so it’s actually entertaining and witty.
• I suffer from low self-esteem.
• I love everybody.
• Except when I hate everyone.
• I labor over every Tweet, every e-mail, and every blog post (except maybe this one).
• When I write a short story, I don’t always know where it’s going. This, despite the fact that I usually write the last sentence first.
• I am pretty sure John Irving does this, too.
• I would never compare myself to John Irving.
• Unless he tends to fall in love with writers who make him feel the deepest feelings of longing and loss and subsequently stalks them. Then we might have something in common.
• Unlike how I write my stories, I didn’t start with the last line of this blog post and therefore I have no idea how I’m going to end it.
• Or do I?